One foot on the ground (Part 4)
Part 4 is posted!
If you're new, start over at Part 1
AWKWARD DATING AHOY! Well, not as awkward as it could be.
Not my characters, and I hope Moffat, Gatiss and Finnemore don't kill me.
Edited and proofed by me, so if there are glaring errors, please let me know.
Comments are like an particularly interesting corpse to Sherlock.
Also I have a question: Does Fitton exist? Where is it in proximity to London?
“What did you want to be when you grew up?” Brown eyes focused in on Martin as the innocent question was dropped from Molly’s lips.
They were at a curry house, enjoying a bit of Indian food. Amazingly, the conversation (after a few fits and starts) was flowing somewhat comfortably. Molly looked absolutely stunning in a simple blouse and flowery print skirt, hair flowing down the back.
It would’ve been work appropriate except for the fact that the top two buttons were undone. Martin was trying so hard to be a gentleman, but it was difficult for his eyes not to be drawn down to pale flesh between the chocolate brown fabric. Not to mention the necklace’s pendant -- a gold heart with a typeset “M” in the middle in the midst of some sparkly charms -- was like a set of runway lights, drawing his eyes to the vee of her cleavage.
As a result, much of the running commentary in Martin’s mind was along the lines of the following:
No! Don’t ogle there. Look up at her face. It’s a lovely face, with such a pretty mouth. I wonder what it’d be like to kiss that mouth. Oh dear lord, stop staring at her mouth. Look somewhere else. NOT THERE! Stop staring at the necklace, no matter how much it sparkles and the color of the sparkly bits remind you of the runway lights in Monaco. It’s just going to draw your eye down there and she’ll think you’re a pig.
But she looks so lovely and I wonder what her breasts look like. Not that I’ve seen breasts in awhile, but I suspect hers are quite nice. I mean, they’re not too big, so it’s too much of a handful like trying to juggle a cantaloupe. I have no idea why Arthur suggested that while we were in Lisbon.
Stop staring! She’s going to think that you’re a pig and you’re not. Well, you must be a pig, given how much you’re thinking about her breasts. You pig. Yes. I am a pig.
“Pardon?” he asked, brought back to reality by her voice.
A curious smile passed over Molly’s face -- had she read his thoughts? He could feel a hot flush spread across his face as he prayed she wasn’t a mind reader. “When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?”
He didn’t want to say the first thing that popped into his head -- an aeroplane -- because that sounded absolutely stupid. So he stammered.
“It’s silly really --” he began.
“So’s mine,” she said with a slight smile. “If you want, I’ll go first.” Her face reddened slightly. “I wanted to be a Playboy bunny waitress.”
The image of Molly, clad in that ubiquitous satin bodysuit that left little to the imagination, white cuffs and bunny ears caused him to inhale his curry down the wrong pipe as all the blood rushed from his brains to the other portions of his body. After a few hacking coughs and a sip of his beer, he was able to let out a nervous laugh.
“Really?” he coughed.
She nodded, a certain knowing look in her eyes. “Well, that or a scientist.”
“I don’t think they would have approved of you wearing bunny ears to work,” he said.
“Yes, but it was so cute, those outfits,” she replied, before ripping a piece of naan and sopping up some sauce with it. “Go on then, it’s your turn.”
“You’ll laugh.”
Her grin widened. “I just told you I wanted to be a rabbit,” she said warmly, “Go on.”
“An aeroplane,” he spat out, waiting for her to say something about how silly or foolish he was.
Instead, the smile became warmer. “That’s not that silly,” she replied. “It makes perfect sense -- I had a friend who wanted to be a sports car after watching Transformers. He’s now in marketing. At least you’re still doing what you wanted to do.”
“Well that’s also silly too,” he replied with a slight chuckle. “I mean, you can’t be a robot.”
Molly’s face split into a wide grin as her giggle joined his chuckle.
Feeling like he won something, the conversation continued. Despite his fears about morbid and gruesome discussion about dead people, Molly talked about her family, university and other random bits. Martin talked about flying and travel. It was probably the most enjoyable time they both had in a very long while. No, scratch that -- it was the most enjoyable time they had in years.
By the time they reached her door, everything felt like shaken-up soda. He enjoyed himself, and she too, and there was the delightful tingle as their fingers brushed up against each other. But there was the dread of parting and possibly cocking everything up all to hell and ending up in the undesirable friend zone.
It also didn’t help that Molly’s neighbor was staring at the two of them intently -- like a no-necked version of her father after Martin delivered her home after curfew.
“Well --” he began, glancing over at the man, who was supposedly examining his mail and newspaper in the lobby.
“Well --” she smiled slightly. “Don’t worry about Perry. He’s nice enough.”
“That could mean that he’ll be perfectly polite after he rips my arms off for making an untoward move with you,” Martin laughed nervously.
Molly moved in closer, glancing up at him. “Like what kind of untoward move?” her voice dropped slightly, but there was that bright sparkle in her eye that gave him courage.
“Well, if I put my arms around you,” he began, long limbs sliding around her.
Molly glanced over at the neighbor, who was watching surreptitiously while pretending to check his mail. “He seems to be just watching. No movement or danger”
“There’s also me telling you I had a lovely night,” he continued, moving his face closer to hers. “And then asking if I can kiss you.”
Molly bit her lip and wiggled for a moment. “Perry seems to have become bored and is now reading the paper,” she whispered, looking up at him. “I think you could kiss me now.”
Well, when someone says you can kiss them, one doesn’t go “Are you sure?” Unless you’re Martin Crieff.
But before he could form those words, she stood on her tiptoes and lightly brushed her lips against his.
It was like putting his hands on an electric fence. Martin let out a soft whimper as Molly’s hands snaked under his coat and wrapped them around his waist. Her kiss clearly conveyed interest, as well as the question of whether he felt the same.
She pulled away, uncertainty in her eyes and her lips formed in a small frown.
“I’m sorry --” she began, her body beginning to shy away from him. “I didn’t mean to be so forwa--”
Before she could finish her last word, Martin lunged. They bumped noses for a moment and Molly let out a squeak in surprise. The momentum of their bodies colliding resulted in Martin tripping over his feet, colliding into Molly and pressing her up against the door rather ungracefully. Her head fell back with a thunk against the door and she pulled away, gasping in surprise and a bit of pain.
“I’m sorry --” he began, moving his fingers up to massage her head.
“It’s all right,” she said with a silly grin before pulling his head down to hers.
Their noses bumped again, but he adjusted his head and she twisted hers just so and then everything fell into place beautifully. It was addictive -- the first kiss created the desire to taste the other just a little bit more. Then a little more. Then the question was raised as to what kind of interesting noises they’d make if one’s lower lip was nibbled on in a certain manner, which then ignited curiosity regarding what other noises they’d make.
What seemed like an instant (but probably was more like a few minutes) passed before the two of them heard a solicitous tap on the door. Opening his eyes, Martin’s gaze fell on the suspicious stare of Perry the paternal neighbor.
Nothing could have killed the sense of romance quicker. Molly giggled as she moved away from the door and it was pushed open.
“You all right Molls?” Perry asked. Up close, the man was even more intimidating, looking like a former RAF who spent most of his time bending bars with his hands. The expression he had indicated that he didn’t cotton to public shows of affection.
Molly giggled. “Yes Perry,” she said. “This is Martin.”
Perry eyed up Martin suspiciously, giving him a long stink-eye, before harrumphing. “You two should either get inside or say goodbye,” he grumbled before closing the door. “It’s just scandalous what you’re doing.”
Molly studied Martin. His eyes were bright and intense, lips shiny and slightly swollen from the kiss and his hair was disheveled. She didn’t doubt for a second that she looked as rumpled or that his body was zinging with the same energy she was feeling.
“Should we take his advice then?” Molly asked, while rummaging for her keys.
Martin’s heart felt like it was being hammered with an ice pick. Of course she wouldn’t want him to come up. It was too early -- after all it was just one date. Hopefully when she came to her senses and realized that he was such a terrible prospect she’d tell him the truth, instead of saying she was being transferred to Bolivia for work. Or dying of some sort of obscure and highly contagious disease that sounded like a hairball being hacked up.
“I guess we should,” he asked slowly, peeling his body away from hers and preparing for the long, lonely drive home. Martin was all set to leave, when he felt her hand reach out and squeeze his.
He turned to see her chewing on her bottom lip, as she stared at him intently.
Normally she wouldn’t have said the next thing. Normally she was a proper girl and who told her dates good night and then waited for a phone call that never came, or if it came, it was filled with half-hearted excuses. Instead, she was as shocked as anyone when she opened her mouth and uttered the following statement:
“Why don’t you come inside?”
He blinked, then noticed the warm smile on her face and how she held the door open, inviting him in. This time Martin was speechless, his mind a complete blank from surprise that she would invite him up in the first place. The only thing he could do was follow behind her like a little docile lamb.
Part 5
If you're new, start over at Part 1
AWKWARD DATING AHOY! Well, not as awkward as it could be.
Not my characters, and I hope Moffat, Gatiss and Finnemore don't kill me.
Edited and proofed by me, so if there are glaring errors, please let me know.
Comments are like an particularly interesting corpse to Sherlock.
Also I have a question: Does Fitton exist? Where is it in proximity to London?
“What did you want to be when you grew up?” Brown eyes focused in on Martin as the innocent question was dropped from Molly’s lips.
They were at a curry house, enjoying a bit of Indian food. Amazingly, the conversation (after a few fits and starts) was flowing somewhat comfortably. Molly looked absolutely stunning in a simple blouse and flowery print skirt, hair flowing down the back.
It would’ve been work appropriate except for the fact that the top two buttons were undone. Martin was trying so hard to be a gentleman, but it was difficult for his eyes not to be drawn down to pale flesh between the chocolate brown fabric. Not to mention the necklace’s pendant -- a gold heart with a typeset “M” in the middle in the midst of some sparkly charms -- was like a set of runway lights, drawing his eyes to the vee of her cleavage.
As a result, much of the running commentary in Martin’s mind was along the lines of the following:
No! Don’t ogle there. Look up at her face. It’s a lovely face, with such a pretty mouth. I wonder what it’d be like to kiss that mouth. Oh dear lord, stop staring at her mouth. Look somewhere else. NOT THERE! Stop staring at the necklace, no matter how much it sparkles and the color of the sparkly bits remind you of the runway lights in Monaco. It’s just going to draw your eye down there and she’ll think you’re a pig.
But she looks so lovely and I wonder what her breasts look like. Not that I’ve seen breasts in awhile, but I suspect hers are quite nice. I mean, they’re not too big, so it’s too much of a handful like trying to juggle a cantaloupe. I have no idea why Arthur suggested that while we were in Lisbon.
Stop staring! She’s going to think that you’re a pig and you’re not. Well, you must be a pig, given how much you’re thinking about her breasts. You pig. Yes. I am a pig.
“Pardon?” he asked, brought back to reality by her voice.
A curious smile passed over Molly’s face -- had she read his thoughts? He could feel a hot flush spread across his face as he prayed she wasn’t a mind reader. “When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?”
He didn’t want to say the first thing that popped into his head -- an aeroplane -- because that sounded absolutely stupid. So he stammered.
“It’s silly really --” he began.
“So’s mine,” she said with a slight smile. “If you want, I’ll go first.” Her face reddened slightly. “I wanted to be a Playboy bunny waitress.”
The image of Molly, clad in that ubiquitous satin bodysuit that left little to the imagination, white cuffs and bunny ears caused him to inhale his curry down the wrong pipe as all the blood rushed from his brains to the other portions of his body. After a few hacking coughs and a sip of his beer, he was able to let out a nervous laugh.
“Really?” he coughed.
She nodded, a certain knowing look in her eyes. “Well, that or a scientist.”
“I don’t think they would have approved of you wearing bunny ears to work,” he said.
“Yes, but it was so cute, those outfits,” she replied, before ripping a piece of naan and sopping up some sauce with it. “Go on then, it’s your turn.”
“You’ll laugh.”
Her grin widened. “I just told you I wanted to be a rabbit,” she said warmly, “Go on.”
“An aeroplane,” he spat out, waiting for her to say something about how silly or foolish he was.
Instead, the smile became warmer. “That’s not that silly,” she replied. “It makes perfect sense -- I had a friend who wanted to be a sports car after watching Transformers. He’s now in marketing. At least you’re still doing what you wanted to do.”
“Well that’s also silly too,” he replied with a slight chuckle. “I mean, you can’t be a robot.”
Molly’s face split into a wide grin as her giggle joined his chuckle.
Feeling like he won something, the conversation continued. Despite his fears about morbid and gruesome discussion about dead people, Molly talked about her family, university and other random bits. Martin talked about flying and travel. It was probably the most enjoyable time they both had in a very long while. No, scratch that -- it was the most enjoyable time they had in years.
By the time they reached her door, everything felt like shaken-up soda. He enjoyed himself, and she too, and there was the delightful tingle as their fingers brushed up against each other. But there was the dread of parting and possibly cocking everything up all to hell and ending up in the undesirable friend zone.
It also didn’t help that Molly’s neighbor was staring at the two of them intently -- like a no-necked version of her father after Martin delivered her home after curfew.
“Well --” he began, glancing over at the man, who was supposedly examining his mail and newspaper in the lobby.
“Well --” she smiled slightly. “Don’t worry about Perry. He’s nice enough.”
“That could mean that he’ll be perfectly polite after he rips my arms off for making an untoward move with you,” Martin laughed nervously.
Molly moved in closer, glancing up at him. “Like what kind of untoward move?” her voice dropped slightly, but there was that bright sparkle in her eye that gave him courage.
“Well, if I put my arms around you,” he began, long limbs sliding around her.
Molly glanced over at the neighbor, who was watching surreptitiously while pretending to check his mail. “He seems to be just watching. No movement or danger”
“There’s also me telling you I had a lovely night,” he continued, moving his face closer to hers. “And then asking if I can kiss you.”
Molly bit her lip and wiggled for a moment. “Perry seems to have become bored and is now reading the paper,” she whispered, looking up at him. “I think you could kiss me now.”
Well, when someone says you can kiss them, one doesn’t go “Are you sure?” Unless you’re Martin Crieff.
But before he could form those words, she stood on her tiptoes and lightly brushed her lips against his.
It was like putting his hands on an electric fence. Martin let out a soft whimper as Molly’s hands snaked under his coat and wrapped them around his waist. Her kiss clearly conveyed interest, as well as the question of whether he felt the same.
She pulled away, uncertainty in her eyes and her lips formed in a small frown.
“I’m sorry --” she began, her body beginning to shy away from him. “I didn’t mean to be so forwa--”
Before she could finish her last word, Martin lunged. They bumped noses for a moment and Molly let out a squeak in surprise. The momentum of their bodies colliding resulted in Martin tripping over his feet, colliding into Molly and pressing her up against the door rather ungracefully. Her head fell back with a thunk against the door and she pulled away, gasping in surprise and a bit of pain.
“I’m sorry --” he began, moving his fingers up to massage her head.
“It’s all right,” she said with a silly grin before pulling his head down to hers.
Their noses bumped again, but he adjusted his head and she twisted hers just so and then everything fell into place beautifully. It was addictive -- the first kiss created the desire to taste the other just a little bit more. Then a little more. Then the question was raised as to what kind of interesting noises they’d make if one’s lower lip was nibbled on in a certain manner, which then ignited curiosity regarding what other noises they’d make.
What seemed like an instant (but probably was more like a few minutes) passed before the two of them heard a solicitous tap on the door. Opening his eyes, Martin’s gaze fell on the suspicious stare of Perry the paternal neighbor.
Nothing could have killed the sense of romance quicker. Molly giggled as she moved away from the door and it was pushed open.
“You all right Molls?” Perry asked. Up close, the man was even more intimidating, looking like a former RAF who spent most of his time bending bars with his hands. The expression he had indicated that he didn’t cotton to public shows of affection.
Molly giggled. “Yes Perry,” she said. “This is Martin.”
Perry eyed up Martin suspiciously, giving him a long stink-eye, before harrumphing. “You two should either get inside or say goodbye,” he grumbled before closing the door. “It’s just scandalous what you’re doing.”
Molly studied Martin. His eyes were bright and intense, lips shiny and slightly swollen from the kiss and his hair was disheveled. She didn’t doubt for a second that she looked as rumpled or that his body was zinging with the same energy she was feeling.
“Should we take his advice then?” Molly asked, while rummaging for her keys.
Martin’s heart felt like it was being hammered with an ice pick. Of course she wouldn’t want him to come up. It was too early -- after all it was just one date. Hopefully when she came to her senses and realized that he was such a terrible prospect she’d tell him the truth, instead of saying she was being transferred to Bolivia for work. Or dying of some sort of obscure and highly contagious disease that sounded like a hairball being hacked up.
“I guess we should,” he asked slowly, peeling his body away from hers and preparing for the long, lonely drive home. Martin was all set to leave, when he felt her hand reach out and squeeze his.
He turned to see her chewing on her bottom lip, as she stared at him intently.
Normally she wouldn’t have said the next thing. Normally she was a proper girl and who told her dates good night and then waited for a phone call that never came, or if it came, it was filled with half-hearted excuses. Instead, she was as shocked as anyone when she opened her mouth and uttered the following statement:
“Why don’t you come inside?”
He blinked, then noticed the warm smile on her face and how she held the door open, inviting him in. This time Martin was speechless, his mind a complete blank from surprise that she would invite him up in the first place. The only thing he could do was follow behind her like a little docile lamb.
Part 5