The City of Love
Aug. 3rd, 2018 10:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darnedchildSummary: What could be more romantic than a proposal in the City of Love?
Rating: G
A/N - One word prompt request – “Undercover” for Sherlolly, from @mizjoely
She wanted something with Sherlock and Molly undercover in Paris.
The City of Love
“I’m going to kill you,” Molly whispered through gritted teeth and lips that were twisted into the parody of a smile. She bent down to press her lips against those of the man before her, the one on bended knee with the Eiffel Tower as his dramatic backdrop. “Straight up murder you in the slowest, most painful way I know how,” as if she were murmuring words of love.
Molly straightened and giggled loud enough for the nearby tourists to hear, “Of course I’ll marry you!”
Sherlock sprang to his feet, put the ring on her finger, brushed his lips against hers, whispered “There he is.”, then took off like a shot in pursuit of the Parisian murderer they’d been tracking for the last two weeks.
Several gawkers gasped.
“He’ll be back. Severe anxiety.” She shrugged. “Nervous bowel.”
That scattered the small crowd fairly quickly.
She settled onto a bench and pulled out her phone, prepared for a long wait.
An hour later, someone plopped down onto the bench beside her.
“Did you catch him?”
“Her.” Sherlock frowned. “I always miss something.”
He nodded at the ring she still wore. “I meant it. The proposal.”
“So did I. The yes.”
Rating: G
A/N - One word prompt request – “Undercover” for Sherlolly, from @mizjoely
She wanted something with Sherlock and Molly undercover in Paris.
The City of Love
“I’m going to kill you,” Molly whispered through gritted teeth and lips that were twisted into the parody of a smile. She bent down to press her lips against those of the man before her, the one on bended knee with the Eiffel Tower as his dramatic backdrop. “Straight up murder you in the slowest, most painful way I know how,” as if she were murmuring words of love.
Molly straightened and giggled loud enough for the nearby tourists to hear, “Of course I’ll marry you!”
Sherlock sprang to his feet, put the ring on her finger, brushed his lips against hers, whispered “There he is.”, then took off like a shot in pursuit of the Parisian murderer they’d been tracking for the last two weeks.
Several gawkers gasped.
“He’ll be back. Severe anxiety.” She shrugged. “Nervous bowel.”
That scattered the small crowd fairly quickly.
She settled onto a bench and pulled out her phone, prepared for a long wait.
An hour later, someone plopped down onto the bench beside her.
“Did you catch him?”
“Her.” Sherlock frowned. “I always miss something.”
He nodded at the ring she still wore. “I meant it. The proposal.”
“So did I. The yes.”