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darnedchildSummary: A short fic for Molly Hooper Appreciation Week (Summer 2017) - Day 3 - Where My Gals At (Fanworks focusing on Molly’s relationships with female characters in Sherlock) Molly attends Mary Morstan's hen night.
Rating: T
A/N - I got nothing
Hen Night
“Molly! Over here!”
Molly thanked the hostess and pointed toward a table near the centre of the restaurant. “That’s them.”
She wove her way past the other diners and walked right into the open arms of Mary Morstan, bride-to-be.
Mary gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You’re late.”
“Two guesses why.”
One of the bridesmaids—Jenny? Janine!—waved down a passing waiter to take Molly’s order. “And bring her a cosmo, she’s already missed the first round.” The waiter met Molly’s eyes to make sure she wanted the drink, then assured the table that he’d be back shortly.
Mary waited until he was gone to ask, “Didn’t you tell him you had plans?”
“I did. John did. Twice. But you know how Sherlock gets when he’s on to something. If it had been an actual case, I probably would have had to cancel; but he was playing around with a chemical analysis of something he’d found in a garbage bin, and I threatened to cut his lab access for the week if he didn’t go away. He pouted, but he left.”
Both women grimaced.
Molly shrugged out of her jacket and ran her hands over her hair to make sure the damp strands were still tucked into a braid. Thankfully she’d thought ahead and had a change of clothes in her locker at Barts, after Sherlock and John left she had taken a quick shower and managed to find a cab in relatively short order.
She listened to the other women catch up with each other as they ate supper. Molly had only met two of them before, Janine and Agnes; but the other two women seemed nice. By the time everyone was finished eating, they were all laughing and smiling like friends.
“Where to next?” Agnes asked as they gathered up their jackets and purses.
“Oh, uh, a little place Mary’s Mrs Hudson recommended the other day. She said it’s perfect for a tasteful, traditional sort of hen night. I figure we can stop in to say we did, so we don’t hurt her feelings; and if it’s dreadfully dull, we can move on.” Janine took her duties as maid-of-honour very seriously. She ushered the others out toward the street.
Molly grabbed Mary’s arm and pulled her to the side as they waited for the hired car to come around. “Did she say Mrs Hudson?”
Mary nodded. “Yeah. I thought that was nice of her. I invited her to come, but she said something about her hip, and suggested we drop in and mention that she’d sent us.”
“Oh dear.” Molly closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer upward that no one would end up needing to be bailed out of jail before the night was through.
இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—
“Dear Lord,” Mary gasped as the driving bass assaulted them as soon as they opened the door to the club.
“Ladies,” an attractive host in a pair of silk lounge pants, slippers, and little else greeted them. “I’m Nathan, and welcome to Dreamers. A bride-to-be, I see.” He nodded to the novelty sash Mary had draped across her chest. “By any chance, would you be the Morstan bachelorette party?”
Janine’s eyes widened in anticipation. “Yes, we are.”
Nathan’s earlier customer service smile deepened. “Martha called to let us know you might be showing up tonight. We left one of our best tables open, right next to the stage.”
“The stage?” Carol whispered as they followed Nathan through the entryway to much larger room.
‘The stage’ consisted of a raised circular platform in the middle of the main room, with a metal pole mounted in the centre. At the moment there was an incredibly fit man in a pair of bum hugging briefs pulling himself up the pole like a monkey.
As Nathan pulled out a seat for Mary and indicated the other women should sit, the dancer wrapped his legs around the pole and let go with his hands. He leaned back and slowly spiralled downward with only the powerful grip of his thighs and a miracle to keep him from dropping like a stone.
“I bet you could bounce a coin off that arse,” Freya blurted. She immediately blushed and dropped her gaze, but the damage was done. As the dancer finished his descent and got his feet underneath him, he paused to aim a wink in Freya’s direction.
“I’m to let you know that the first round of drinks are on Martha.” Nathan tilted his head to indicate the two other men currently circulating the room, both wearing the same sort of lounge pants as the host. “She asked me to make sure they went on her tab. Enjoy your night, ladies.”
Mary grinned. “God bless Martha Hudson.”
இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—
Mary followed Molly into the ladies, and quickly ducked into the stall next to Molly. “I can’t wait for this wedding to be over. Don’t get me wrong, I love that we’re getting married; but I’ve been so stressed I can barely keep anything down. And I have to wee all the time!”
Molly laughed as she dealt with her trousers and settled down to take care of her own business. “Just another week.”
“We’re going to have to pour Carol and Agnes into the car tonight. I barely touched my Tahitian Fantasy and Agnes volunteered to take one for the team and finish it. Poor girl hasn’t stopped giggling since that buff blond pulled off his chaps to ‘You Can Leave Your Hat On’.”
Molly finished and moved to the sinks to wash her hands. “He did look good in that hat and those chaps.”
“He looked better without them,” Mary giggled as she joined Molly at the sink. She met Molly’s eyes in the mirror. “Thank you for coming tonight. I wish . . . I wish we’d become friends a little sooner. I would have loved to have you stand up with me in the ceremony.”
Molly blinked several times, and she felt her throat tighten up. “I would have liked that too. Maybe next time.”
She gasped in horror, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “No, that’s not, I didn’t mean . . . Can we just pretend I didn’t say that last bit?”
Mary started laughing so hard she had to lean against the sink counter to keep upright. “You are a treasure, Molly. A fucking treasure. Okay, okay. Deep breaths.”
Both women drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, although Mary almost broke into another fit of giggles.
“Right. Jonathon the Detective in a Hat is up, and we absolutely can not miss a knock-off Sherlock Holmes stripping down to his skivvies.”
Rating: T
A/N - I got nothing
Hen Night
“Molly! Over here!”
Molly thanked the hostess and pointed toward a table near the centre of the restaurant. “That’s them.”
She wove her way past the other diners and walked right into the open arms of Mary Morstan, bride-to-be.
Mary gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You’re late.”
“Two guesses why.”
One of the bridesmaids—Jenny? Janine!—waved down a passing waiter to take Molly’s order. “And bring her a cosmo, she’s already missed the first round.” The waiter met Molly’s eyes to make sure she wanted the drink, then assured the table that he’d be back shortly.
Mary waited until he was gone to ask, “Didn’t you tell him you had plans?”
“I did. John did. Twice. But you know how Sherlock gets when he’s on to something. If it had been an actual case, I probably would have had to cancel; but he was playing around with a chemical analysis of something he’d found in a garbage bin, and I threatened to cut his lab access for the week if he didn’t go away. He pouted, but he left.”
Both women grimaced.
Molly shrugged out of her jacket and ran her hands over her hair to make sure the damp strands were still tucked into a braid. Thankfully she’d thought ahead and had a change of clothes in her locker at Barts, after Sherlock and John left she had taken a quick shower and managed to find a cab in relatively short order.
She listened to the other women catch up with each other as they ate supper. Molly had only met two of them before, Janine and Agnes; but the other two women seemed nice. By the time everyone was finished eating, they were all laughing and smiling like friends.
“Where to next?” Agnes asked as they gathered up their jackets and purses.
“Oh, uh, a little place Mary’s Mrs Hudson recommended the other day. She said it’s perfect for a tasteful, traditional sort of hen night. I figure we can stop in to say we did, so we don’t hurt her feelings; and if it’s dreadfully dull, we can move on.” Janine took her duties as maid-of-honour very seriously. She ushered the others out toward the street.
Molly grabbed Mary’s arm and pulled her to the side as they waited for the hired car to come around. “Did she say Mrs Hudson?”
Mary nodded. “Yeah. I thought that was nice of her. I invited her to come, but she said something about her hip, and suggested we drop in and mention that she’d sent us.”
“Oh dear.” Molly closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer upward that no one would end up needing to be bailed out of jail before the night was through.
“Dear Lord,” Mary gasped as the driving bass assaulted them as soon as they opened the door to the club.
“Ladies,” an attractive host in a pair of silk lounge pants, slippers, and little else greeted them. “I’m Nathan, and welcome to Dreamers. A bride-to-be, I see.” He nodded to the novelty sash Mary had draped across her chest. “By any chance, would you be the Morstan bachelorette party?”
Janine’s eyes widened in anticipation. “Yes, we are.”
Nathan’s earlier customer service smile deepened. “Martha called to let us know you might be showing up tonight. We left one of our best tables open, right next to the stage.”
“The stage?” Carol whispered as they followed Nathan through the entryway to much larger room.
‘The stage’ consisted of a raised circular platform in the middle of the main room, with a metal pole mounted in the centre. At the moment there was an incredibly fit man in a pair of bum hugging briefs pulling himself up the pole like a monkey.
As Nathan pulled out a seat for Mary and indicated the other women should sit, the dancer wrapped his legs around the pole and let go with his hands. He leaned back and slowly spiralled downward with only the powerful grip of his thighs and a miracle to keep him from dropping like a stone.
“I bet you could bounce a coin off that arse,” Freya blurted. She immediately blushed and dropped her gaze, but the damage was done. As the dancer finished his descent and got his feet underneath him, he paused to aim a wink in Freya’s direction.
“I’m to let you know that the first round of drinks are on Martha.” Nathan tilted his head to indicate the two other men currently circulating the room, both wearing the same sort of lounge pants as the host. “She asked me to make sure they went on her tab. Enjoy your night, ladies.”
Mary grinned. “God bless Martha Hudson.”
Mary followed Molly into the ladies, and quickly ducked into the stall next to Molly. “I can’t wait for this wedding to be over. Don’t get me wrong, I love that we’re getting married; but I’ve been so stressed I can barely keep anything down. And I have to wee all the time!”
Molly laughed as she dealt with her trousers and settled down to take care of her own business. “Just another week.”
“We’re going to have to pour Carol and Agnes into the car tonight. I barely touched my Tahitian Fantasy and Agnes volunteered to take one for the team and finish it. Poor girl hasn’t stopped giggling since that buff blond pulled off his chaps to ‘You Can Leave Your Hat On’.”
Molly finished and moved to the sinks to wash her hands. “He did look good in that hat and those chaps.”
“He looked better without them,” Mary giggled as she joined Molly at the sink. She met Molly’s eyes in the mirror. “Thank you for coming tonight. I wish . . . I wish we’d become friends a little sooner. I would have loved to have you stand up with me in the ceremony.”
Molly blinked several times, and she felt her throat tighten up. “I would have liked that too. Maybe next time.”
She gasped in horror, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “No, that’s not, I didn’t mean . . . Can we just pretend I didn’t say that last bit?”
Mary started laughing so hard she had to lean against the sink counter to keep upright. “You are a treasure, Molly. A fucking treasure. Okay, okay. Deep breaths.”
Both women drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, although Mary almost broke into another fit of giggles.
“Right. Jonathon the Detective in a Hat is up, and we absolutely can not miss a knock-off Sherlock Holmes stripping down to his skivvies.”