#experimcnts

DATES  WEREN’T  EXACTLY  SHERLOCK’S  FORTE,  but  he  was  willing  to  do  whatever  it  took  to  make  Molly  Hooper  happy. 

They  sat  on  the  settee  together,  having  a  glass  of  champaign  while  some  dreadfully  boring  movie  played.  He  was  pleasantly  tipsy,  just  ever  so  slightly,  enough  to  feel  more  at  ease  in  what  was  an  otherwise  unorthodox  situation  for  him.  He  could  smell  the  borderline  overwhelming  scent  of  candles  burning,  various  herbal  scents  lingering  all  about  her  flat  and  mixing  up in  the  air,  burning  his  nostrils.   

She  had  certainly  dressed  up,  despite  his  prior  asking  her  not  to  do  so.  A  short  dress,  and  clearly  uncomfortable  underwear  judging  by  her  consistent  shifting  and  scratching  at  the  hemlines.  He  had  elected  not  to  bring  it  up,  didn’t  want  to  spoil  the  mood.  Being  an  obnoxious  arsehole  could  use  a  day  off  from  time  to  time.  But  oh,  how  lovely  she  looked  -  hair  hair  loose  and  curled  up,  a  modest  lip  gloss  and  amount  of  makeup.  He  had  to  admit  he  appreciated  curls  on  her.  

When  he  thought  about  this  (    and  he’ll  be  honest,    he’s  thought  about  it  a  lot.      Steve  has  gotten  used  to  goodbyes,    both  said  and  sudden,    and  considering  how  he  feels  about  Tony  .  .  .      Of  course  he’s  thought  about  when  it  will  be  their  turn    ),    he  had  been  hoping  they’d  be  together.      He  had  always  been  convinced  he  would  go  first,    has  made  jokes  about  his  old  age  and  how  after  one  hundred  plus  years,    it  just  made  sense.      He  wanted  it  to  happen  in  Tony’s  arms  so  of  course  it’s  when  they’re  countries  away  from  each  other,    team  stretched  too  thin.      The  groans  and  shudders  of  the  building  that  had  already  collapsed  over  him  tells  him  he  has  little  time  and  it’s  with  shaking  hands  he  takes  off  his  gloves,    presses  a  finger  to  the  comm  in  his  ear  not  because  he  needs  to  but  because  it  feels  right.      He  switches  to  the  private  channel  before—    ❝  Tony?  ❞      Is  it  what  he  knows  is  coming  that  makes  his  voice  that  soft  or  the  slab  of  concrete  over  a  part  of  his  chest,    his  legs?

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𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐍’𝐒--- 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓. The only blessing was the medicine he’d received not too long ago starting to kick in. His head was unclear, foggy as his eyes adjusted on the figure of--  “ Tony ? ”  his words forced out, as he tried to hide his surprise and relief at seeing him there. Things had been, strained since their talk. Victor having brought past things to light and long overdue conversations. He was surprised Tony would have come here at all. “ What happened ?  Last thing I remember, I was in my study going over--- ”  The spell scrolls. Something had to have happened when he was trying to use them to learn and modify those ancient spells. His eyes then registered the calendar behind him --- November 1st, his birthday. Had he really been out for two days ?

When had it happened, he wonders, this new AGREEMENT between them. After the escape from the cursed Urca gold, the fight to gain the crew back, an entire clusterfuck of misfortunes and dumb luck, all mixed up in an outcome he’s certain neither of them had expected. But, as it turned out, all, well mostly, in their favor. 

For now, there’s a certain ‘ strained ‘ peace aboard of the Walrus. One Silver is certain will break before long, almost like a bad omen. Something is brewing, and he isn’t sure he likes it. 

However, the crew seems to have started taking a liking to him finally... the majority at least. It’s a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. Now, the pending question is where he stands with his Captain. 

The air feels cool and gentle against his forehead, calming, and putting a damper to his far too hot skin. Stress, anxiety, even the stupid DULL ache in his ribs, everything all at once swaying his thoughts away from sleep, tearing him back to reality without much rest. 

‘ How the hell did I end up here? ‘ A phrase that keeps popping up in his head more often than not as of late. 

Torn from his thoughts, he watches a silhouette move towards him, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he waits for the Captain to join him. 

“Are you stalking me, Captain?” 

𝘩𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑛 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒'𝑠 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝘩𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔, but something about it told him that it wasn't just something funny on the news or Twitter. ❝ What's wrong with you, why is your face like that ? ❞ he demanded briskly. Eying John Watson with a curiosity as he moved past him to reach his coffee. ❝ What has you in such high spirits this early in the morning ? ❞

Molly Hooper had spent her life between two roles. The first being that of the dutiful daughter, and the second, a passionate student. While her parents lived they had provided her with the best tutors, with all the books she could ever ask ,and in return - she simply had to mind the boundaries of her sex. Parties, gowns, gossip, and a lack of formal scientific study. She had all the skill, but none of the prestige.

She loved her parents deeply, and was heartbroken when they passed, but with time - the ache lessened and her yearning for freedom took hold once again. A woman of society with an inheritance as large as her own had no shortage of suitors. If she had wanted, she could have had a perfectly adequate life as a wife and mother, but Molly could have never settled for such a gilded cage. No, in the end she decided that a life of freedom was well worth the risk.

So, she settled her parents estate and took off to the sea. Yet, finding a ship willing to take a woman on board was more difficult than any high society game. She’d put out advertisements and sent letters to any respectable ship she could find - all to no avail. In the end, there was no other choice than to don trousers and choose a new name. Overnight, she became Malcolm Hooper, a sawbones seeking any vessel that could float. The binding was a bit difficult to get used to, but she did find the trousers a great improvement.

@experimcnts​​ said:  "𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭." / 𝐌𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍