The fog was thicker than she’d ever seen it being and it only managed to worsen her already ill mood. Normally Molly would have loved to wander down the streets and the bridges of her home city and to delight in the eerie sight of the grey thin matter filling the air making everything look like she’d stepped through a story book and into the world of the undead. The illuminating gaslights on the streets and the few people in sight only enhanced the spooky atmosphere and the thought that any moment now something wonderfully odd and frightening would happen made her skin crawl pleasantly.
For awhile she lost herself into a world of her own and it wasn’t until her heavy bag on her shoulder inconveniently losing its position and sliding down along her arm broke her from her reverie.
Molly grimaced. Thoughts like that had always caused her trouble, first with her mother, who had at every chance she’d gotten had made sure to teach her daughters on how to behave themselves like proper women. Due to her stubborn nature she had allowed her mother’s words go in and out of her head without remembering almost nothing of them afterwards. Maybe if Molly had listened she wouldn’t be in this dreadful situation of just being let go of her position as a maid in the Lord Forrest’s household, because she had spoken out of her place.
Oh she knew how to act and behave when she was dealing with people higher above her but what she lacked was the talent to hide her headstrong attitude, morbid thoughts and even worse, her jokes. As a keen student of human anatomy, her heavy bag currently held a book of the subject, she also had an interest for collecting obituary poems and wondering through graveyards and that definitely was not proper even for a woman in the lower class like her.
It was currently almost seven in the morning and she had to find a new position today before the night fell, unless she wanted to use her hard earned money to pay for a night in a motel and for food on top of it.
Sighing, Molly stopped walking and lay her second sack down on the side walk in effort to lift her other bag to her shoulder again. After that, taking hold of the handles of the one on the street, she continued her way, only to bump into a solid body of a male after one single step.
Her eyes leveled with the stranger’s upper chest she could see that based on his clothing it was a real gentleman with whom she had collided with, and that made her even more annoyed as the man didn’t make an effort to step aside.
Tone dripping with frustration, she didn’t pause to think on her words.
“Excuse me good sir but despite my lower status that does not mean you should just walk straight into me and then expect me to give way to you since I wasn’t able to even see you.”
Her gaze fixed on the dirty pavement she waited for the man to scold her or either step aside since she was not going to budge before him. After a moment when neither of those things had happened Molly begrudgingly lifted her head to see the face of the bothersome man.
A pair of blue and green hued eyes stared back at her, barely visible below the visor of his deerstalker, focused intently on her own hazel brown ones. The invisible force of the stare made her take one small step backwards and so the rest of him was revealed to her field of vision.
Rough sketch of Sherlock and Molly dancing after their wedding…
i wanna know more about lestrade’s childhood……………….how hard it must have been to be the only 8 year old with grey hair, a 5 o’clock shadow, a strong sense of justice, and a “good cop with nothing else to lose” attitude.
- male character:
i made a mistake
oh you poor misunderstood soul
- female character:
i made a mistake
WANTON MISTRESS OF THE NIGHT, RETURN TO THE SHADOWS FROM WHENCE YOU CAME, THIS IS NO PLACE FOR YOUR SELFISHNESS PLEASE GO BACK TO YOUR HOME ON WHORE ISLAND
I’m glad the portrait of Ben Franklin stayed the same on the new $100 bill. There’s something about his slight, tight frown, the paternal hint of disappointment in his eyes and those pursed, sealed lips that seem to say, “I don’t approve of what you’re doing, but I can’t stop you from rolling this banknote into a straw and ripping a fat rail of white lightning in the Buffalo Wild Wings handicapped bathroom stall, you goddamn beautiful disaster.”
I will reblog this everyday