"No, I will not." Molly Hooper shook her head very firmly, making several strands of light brown hair fall down from her neat bun. She pushed them aside with her gloved hand, only to have it fall back in to place.

"Why not?" Her mother asked. "He's a perfectly respectable young man. He comes from a very well off family. It would be a perfect match."

Molly rolled her eyes. She had to resist the urge to let out a sigh. She set down her quill and looked her mother in the eyes. "I'm nineteen mother." She protested. "I'm not ready to be married."

Her mother shook her head. She was upset with Molly and Molly knew it. "I was already married at nineteen." She told Molly for the twentieth time. "I see no reason that you shouldn't be. You already turned down Mr. Moriarty. He was a nice young man." Molly had half a mind to tell her mother that Mr. Moriarty was as nice as she insisted. "You might end up an old maid." Her mother said. She acted like ending up alone was the worst fate possible for a girl.

Molly was tired of her mother's constant reminders that she might be unmarried for her entire life, but she didn't really care. This was a time of progress. This was a time of revolution. It was a time of new inventions and giant advances in science. Molly wanted in on the action. She wanted to do something that would be remembered, not sit around drinking tea as a married woman. Not that there was anything wrong with tea, she just didn't want to be tied down by the bonds of marriage.

Her mother turned to her father, a look of exasperation on her face. Her girl had no interest in marriage and it confused her. When she was Molly's age that was all that she thought of. Molly took after her father. She preferred brains and books to dresses and dances. "She'd rather stay inside with her science experiments." She said. "It's unsuitable for a girl of her station." She placed a hand on her husband's arm. "Talk to her." She begged.

Her husband nodded. With a sigh of relief, her mother left the room. Molly's father sat down on a stool next to her. "Your mother's only concerned for your welfare." He said. Molly nodded, she knew that. "She doesn't want you to be left alone when we die." He continued. "That's all that she's thinking of."

Molly shook her head. "So, she would have me get married to a total stranger?"

Her father nodded. "She's only thinking of you."

Molly laughed. Her mother cared more about Molly finally settling down and having children than about what would happen when they died. "I shall not get married." Molly said very firmly. "I shall not let a stranger take our money away from us." Molly was their only child and heiress to the family fortune.

"You don't even know the young man." Her father protested. "You could end up falling in love."

Molly laughed. "Love is but a childish dream father." She said.

"Will you at least meet him?" He asked. He loved his little girl and did not want her to be unhappy, but the prospect of an unhappy wife was severely more terrifying.

Molly nodded. "I shall." She picked up her quill and started recording data once more. "What does the young Mr. Holmes have to say about the arrangement?" She asked.

Her father shook his head. "I have no idea."

"No. No. Absolutely not." Sherlock Holmes sat down on the armchair. "I am not getting married."

His mother sighed. "The Hoopers are a nice family." She said. "They are perfectly respectable."

Sherlock shook his head, making a black curl fall in front of his eye. He blew it out of the way, but it fell in front of his eye once more. "I do not mean to get married, and I will not." He said. "Marriage ties a man down forever. There is not escape from it."

His mother sat down in a chair opposite him, trying to ignore his comment about marriage. "You don't even know the girl." She said. "You could end up in love with her."

"Love is illogical." He said. "I am not getting married."

"Why not?" His mother asked. "You're twenty two. You can't stay a detective for your entire life."

"A detective is a fine job." Sherlock protested.

"But you don't make a lot of money dear." His mother said. "Do you?" Sherlock did not want to agree, but she was right he did not make much money with detective work. Sherlock did it simply because he enjoyed it. He really did not care for the money. He believed that money was a nuisance. If he could live without it he would. "Besides you are the second born." She said. "You know what that means."

Sherlock nodded, he knew what it meant. It meant that his older brother, Mycroft Holmes, would inherit the money. He would receive a small portion, but not much. If he ever needed any he would have to beg Mycroft. That was not something he wanted to do.

"The Hoopers have plenty of money." His mother said. "And she is the only heir. You could continue with your detective work."

Sherlock liked the sound of being able to permanently be a detective. It would give him freedom. However, he still didn't believe that he was ready for marriage. Marriage would tie him down. "I don't think that marriage is a suitable choice for me at this moment."

His mother sighed, clearly agitated with him. "Everyone else that you know is married." She said. "John got married last summer."

Sherlock already was aware of the fact. He did not need reminding that his best friend was now busy with domestic life. To busy to solve crimes. To busy preparing for the new baby to see him.

"Besides, she could solve crimes with you." His mother insisted.

Sherlock laughed. "She's a girl. She would probably pass out at the sight of blood." Most girls did. John's wife, Mary, was probably the exception. Then again, Mary had been an assassin before she decided to get married. Sherlock knew for a fact that Miss Hooper had never been an assassin before. She was of a respectable family, which meant she was a respectable girl. That meant she only knew about dresses, tea, and the weather. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but Sherlock wanted a wife who knew about more.

His mother shook her head, there was no reasoning with the boy. "You will visit her tomorrow." She said. "Just try to at least grow fond of her. You'll need to be if you're going to get married."

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, but his mother raised her hand, stopping him. "There is no arguing." She said and left the room. Leaving a very disappointed Sherlock behind her.