#all-oftimenspace

Molly hiked the strap of her bag up higher on her shoulder. The contemptible thing had been nothing but annoying since she left the hospital. She should have just taken a taxi, but then again she hadn’t known her favorite café would be closed. Koffee With A K had been her place of choice since she had been in uni. It had been one of those kitschy shops that tried too hard to be ironic. They hosted poetry readings filled with the worst writers in England. Offered coffee with names like Winter Lodge White Chocolate Mocha Snowstorm. And played the latest in new age music. It was overdone and over the top, and she loved it. Unfortunately when she had gone to get her customary cup of Alpine Ginger Mountain, she had found the doors locked. She was presented with a problem. She was, in no small way, addicted to caffeine. She had just pulled a double shift at the hospital, and needed a cup of coffee about as much as she needed air. She had stood in front of the shop for several minutes trying to figure out what she would do. There were of course several popular franchises stuck on every corner, but the last time she visited one she cringed at the price and taste. She was close to despair when she remembered seeing a little café tucked away some blocks down. She had taken off without delay, ending up at the heavy old door panting and wishing that she actually drove. Regulating her breath, she looked up before her. The door was painted black with a simple sign of gold numbers. It looked for all the world like someone’s home, but the sandwich board on the sidewalk said otherwise. Slowly she entered the shop. 221 was the sort of place that movie hipsters spent their day. Inside was dark, the walls covered in Victorian patterned paper. Shadowboxes hung throughout the place, displaying various insects as well as old medical instruments. Bookshelves towered over the patrons, filled to the brim with worn, heavy volumes. What couldn’t fit on the overfilled shelves were stacked up in precarious piles, some on tables and others on the floor. Soft jazz played throughout the café, but was only loud enough to hear without straining. Molly quickly made her way to one of the corners, settling herself down into the black leather chair. She blinked when she noticed the pictures on the wall beside her. Diagrams of old medical practices were placed besides framed sketches of Victorian medical tools. Scattered about these were several Victorian post-mortem photos. The one closest to her of a husband with his dear wife. The café was far from the sort of place she normally went. The entire theme seemed to be Victorian Macabre, and she loved it. She was sure if any of her friends were with her they would be bolting for the doors. None of them had ever understood her interest in death and the seemingly morbid. And this place fit the bill perfectly. She was just pulling off her scarf when a cup of coffee was set down on the table before her. “Oh, um I haven’t ordered yet.” Molly looked up from the fine boned hands placing the cup and into the eyes of the man beside her. He was tall, thin, and had a head full of curly hair. She swallowed hard, the man was the definition of male beauty. “You don’t order here.” The man gave a swift nod of his head. Molly just blinked at him. She was about to reply when she finally noticed that nowhere in the café was there a board or menu. She looked down at the steaming coffee and back at the man. “I assure you, you will enjoy it. Take a drink.” The man’s lips curved into a slow, sinful smile. She picked up the cup, brought it to her lips, and slowly took a drink. The liquid was hot, dark, and filled with spices. There was a thickness to it, but she was sure the coffee contained no cream. Instead it had been brewed until velvety smooth. She could make out hints of cinnamon and cloves, but many of the others alluded her. There was a heat that curled over her tongue, leaving it tingling as she swallowed. She closed her eyes and let out a low moan. “What is this?” Another drink slipped into her mouth, trickling slowly past her tongue. “It’s our Belstaff brew.” The man sat himself down into the other chair. “And I take it you like it?” “It’s like sex.” Molly’s eyes flew open when she realized what she said. She had not meant to say that, not at all. Of course it was true. It was like the best sex she had ever had. Each sip was like velvet, leather, and silk. Like being tangled and tied. It was exhilarating and titillating. Her cheeks began to grow red as she imagined such things with the man in front of her. “Ahem, I mean, it is really good. Thank you.” “Next time you’ll try the Belgravia brew. I believe you may find it… just as exciting.” The man’s eyes shot straight towards her lips, his tongue peeking out to sweep across his own. Molly felt a knot clench tightly low in her belly and she thought quickly on something to dispel the tension currently growing between them. “Not that the company isn’t nice, but won’t you get in trouble for sitting down on the job?” “That is the great thing about being the owner, I rarely scold myself.” Molly swallowed another drink of the coffee, keeping her eyes on anything but the man. All she had wanted was a cup of coffee before going home, she had not planned on sexy flirting men. It probably wouldn’t bother her so much, but she wasn’t exactly dressed for this. Her old khakis, pink blouse, and cherry cardigan were not what one would call seductive. Plus, she was sure the smell of death still lingered around her. “I’m uh, I’m Molly by the way. Molly Hooper.” She gave a nod towards him, refusing to lend her hand for a shake. If he touched her when she felt as she did she was sure she would blow. “Sherlock Holmes.” The man, Sherlock leaned forward in his chair. “It is nice to meet you, Molly Hooper.” Molly just kept herself from choking when he spoke her name. If she thought the coffee was like velvet, well his voice surpassed that by a thousand. The door to the café opened, admitting a smiling middle-aged couple. Sherlock stood, gave a quick nod to the new customers and turned back to Molly. “I’ll have a slice of devil’s food prepared for you tomorrow.” Sherlock, wicked smile still in place, headed towards the counter. “Why are you so sure I will be back?” Molly set her cup down, turning to look directly at the suit clad man. He looked down at her, hair falling over one half of his face. “Because you want to know.” “Know what?” She squirmed in her seat. “How I did it. Now, drink up, Molly Hooper.” He winked at her, turned, and without another word headed back to the counter. Damn. Molly ran her fingers over the handle of her cup. She was in so much trouble. She looked back to the man. Though, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. ------------------------------------------------- Author’s Note: Prompt from @all-oftimenspace who asked for Coffeeshop AU. Hope ya like it Sugar, it kind of went a bit more sensual than I had planned. Also, Koffee With a K, is actually this fake coffeshop I created for my business class. I had to come up with a commercial and promotion campaign for it. (thankfully only written out) I also had to create an entire budget for opening it. The full name of the shop is actually: Koffee with a K, the Pretentious Coffee. It was a joke between my Da and me. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

I think she would've done too! I'm sure he would've been on the sofa/spare bedroom for a long time; I don't think there'd be a moment where she just went "I forgive you" and fell into his arms. But I think once Eurus revealed her grand plan, I can imagine Mary making a comment like 'Sherlock's sister - should I feel threatened?' while quirking an eyebrow before she acted like her husband -- "soldiers today" and all. Then you imagine her at the end, going through counselling with John and parenting Rosie in 221b. Sherlock going "look there's Mummy!" and Mary taking Rosie, John coming in with the towel on his shoulder, putting it on Mary's and tapping Rosie's nose affectionately. I'm not sure if Mary would joke about it because of its timing, but I can imagine her shooting Sherlock becoming a running joke among the 221B family. (It already kind of is.)

send me a ship + a song for an edit!!

I can see Rosie being tempestuous enough to say “I wish Mum was still here” or “Mum wouldn’t treat me like this”, but I really don’t imagine she’d wish John dead (especially if she’s got her Mum’s loyalty). We’re only told Rosie is left with friends when he’s at the therapist or when he’s looking after a recently relapsed Sherlock, and that makes good sense because who brings a baby to a therapy session? That or leaves them in the presence of a relapsed drug addict? Sherlock s4 leaves a lot of narrative gaps to fill, and John is an arsehole, but just because he leaves Rosie at a friend’s house during times where a baby’s presence isn’t actually the healthiest thing around doesn’t warrant assuming Rosie will wish him dead later on in life.

What is fascinating to me, however, is the range of reactions. American fans I’ve encountered have tended to be horrified by John’s actions, and how easily it was dismissed in the show. But British fans I speak to (including people who have been cheated on in their personal relationships)... their reactions tend to be not more forgiving as such, but more tolerant---for want of a much better word---of how it came about and how it was solved. It’s not “fuck John” but more “what an idiot -- well, at least he’ll be miserable”.

Thanks hun! Unfortunately (and I didn’t have the chance to answer the replies to the other post mentioning my birthday)...it’s tomorrow, on the 23rd. Today is my last day being 35! Buuuuut I always welcome early birthdays, since my family celebrated mine two weeks ago. It’s almost like we knew somehow this weekend we wouldn’t get to celebrate together.