So this is a story that I have been thinking of for a long time...I hope you find it interesting and enjoyable. This is a romance with a bit of intrigue...

Thanks for reading it and giving it a shot!

PS The time period of this story is about 1930 or so :)

Molly Hooper lifted a glass of champagne to her lips as she surveyed the cocktail party. This party had been one of the highlights during the week of high society and her grandfather was known for his opulent parties. She let her eyes dance over the sea of women and their designer dresses as well as the precious gem stones that adorned their necks, wrists, and ears. Beside each and every woman stood a fashionable man, all of whom had an air of confidence and style about them.

She sighed as she took another mouthful of champagne. Why her grandparents insisted that she come to these dreadful parties, she would never understand. She hated everything that they stood for…wealth, wealth, and more wealth. One was only someone of value if one was wealthy in her families' particular social circle and it sickened her stomach.

Molly wet her dry lips and shook her head. She wasn't being fair to her grandfather. He was one of the wealthiest men in all of England, but he was also a kind man. He had not been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He had worked very hard to get where he was today. Her grandfather had the mindset that if a man worked hard and had self-respect, then he was no less of a man than he was. However, not everyone who travelled in his circle felt the same way.

Sherlock Holmes took a glass of wine from the server stand as he entered the banquet hall. His green eyes moved through the throngs of guests seeking his target. He began to move forward when he saw Nathaniel Hooper standing in a small party of his guests, his elegant wife standing dutifully beside him. However, it was the woman standing on the other side of Nathaniel that caught his attention.

She must have felt his eyes on her because she instantly locked her gaze with his. He quickly took a moment to survey her features and found that he was most pleased with what he saw. She was fine boned, with a small narrow nose. She had wide bottomless brown eyes that seemed to have flecks of gold under the chandelier light. Her honey chestnut hair was swept from her neck into a chignon. His eyes moved to take in her figure and found that it was just as pleasing. She was small in stature, delicately formed, with small, but perfectly shaped breasts. Her waist, while slender, was by no means without shape and her hips were gently rounded. She did not have long legs, but her calves were shapely in the high heels that she wore. He found the entire effect of this woman stunning.

Slowly his eyes lifted to meet hers and he let his gaze rest on her face, allowing her to see what she stirred within him in his eyes…desire and want.

Her eyes widened for less than a second before a mask formed over her features. Not only was it a mask, but a frozen mask that seemed to penetrate him with a chill. She blanked him out and looked at him as if she were looking through him, as if he weren't even there. Then she quickly turned her back on him, moving away from Nathaniel.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and watched her as she moved away. Never had he been blanked in his life, especially not by a woman. He gulped the rest of his drink and sat the glass down on the nearby tray as he moved towards Nathaniel.

The elder man happened to turn and see him, smiling warmly when he did. "Ah, Sherlock, come here my boy, how are you this fine evening?" Nathaniel asked holding out his hand to the approaching Sherlock.

"I am well Nathaniel," Sherlock said clasping his hand. "And how about yourself, sir?"

"Splendid," he said boisterously. "Allow me to introduce you to my wife. My dear, this is Sherlock Holmes," he said, as Sherlock bowed his head in greeting. "I should very much like you to meet my granddaughter as well," he said turning to his side and noticing that Molly had moved away. "Oh blast, where is that girl?"

Nathaniel quickly surveyed the crowd and found Molly standing in a small group of guests with a forced polite smile on her face. "Blast that child," Nathaniel said under his breath. "I do so want you to meet her, come with me boy," he said, taking hold of Sherlock's arm.

"Molly dearest," Nathaniel called to her in a patiently affectionate voice. "I have someone that I would like you to meet."

Molly turned with a sincere smile on her face at the sound of her grandfather's voice, but the instant she noticed his companion, the smile froze on her face. The smile fell and she veiled her eyes as she watched their approach.

"Molly, darling, come and meet this young man," Nathaniel said. "You have heard me speak of him. He is Sir Bertram's son," he continued as both men came to stand in front of her. "This is Sherlock Holmes." He turned to regard Sherlock. "And this is my granddaughter, Molly."

Sherlock stared at her with a quirked lip, his eyes seeming to bore into her. "How do you do, Molly?" he asked silkily, her name falling from his tongue like a caress.

Tautly, she returned his gaze and his greeting. "Mr. Holmes," she said softly.

"Sherlock," the younger man repeated. "Call me Sherlock, Molly," he said smiling as he reached out and took her hand in his, pressing his lips gently to her soft skin.

"It's lovely to meet you," Molly said in clipped tones. "But I must see to the other guests." She turned and quickly walked away. She knew her behavior was rude and probably embarrassed her grandfather, but she did not care.

This Sherlock Holmes unnerved her and she did not like the way he looked at her as if she were something that needed to be captured and possessed. She could see the arrogance and haughtiness on him and she wanted nothing to do with it. All she wanted was for the summer break to be over so that she could return to University. It's not that she didn't love her grandparents, she adored them. But she hated the circles that their wealth and status required them to travel in. She looked over the crowded room again and suddenly she became filled with sadness. She wondered if, in this sea of people, if there was anyone genuine or real?

She turned her head and saw her grandfather staring at her with a darkened expression. Sherlock on the other hand was now closed and aloof to her. She felt as if that should comfort her, but it did not. In fact, it unnerved her even more so.

Molly cringed when she heard the shrill voice of her cousin Janine call to her from across the room. "Molly darling," she said as she approached Molly quickly. "You must come and meet the Watson's. John is a doctor," she said as she reached Molly and grabbed the smaller woman's wrist in a vice hold. "I thought that might interest you with your droll little desire to become a nurse."

"A doctor," Molly bit out, trying unsuccessfully to snatch her wrist away as her cousin dragged her across the hall much to the dismay of her grandfather. Molly mouthed an apology at him.

"Now Molly," Janine's obnoxious voice said over the music. "A woman doctor…truly you are so amusing at times," she said as they reached the table where a couple sat with apologetic expression on their faces as they looked mortified for Molly.

Molly looked at the fair haired man as he stood and bowed slightly in greeting. "I am Doctor John Watson and this is my wife," he said gesturing beside him. "Mary Watson."

Janine laughed loudly. "Isn't he polite Molly dearest," she said, her words slightly slurred from the amount of alcohol she had consumed. "This is my little cousin Molly. She's the one I told you about, the one who thinks she going to be a doctor someday."

John smiled and took Molly's hand in his, shaking it in greeting. "How lovely," he said genuinely. "And you are at University now?"

Molly smiled one of the few genuine smiles she had smiled that evening. "Yes, I am in my second year," she said. "It is lovely to meet you both," she said, nodding at his wife.

"Please, sit down and join us," John said, pulling a chair out for her. Molly took it graciously as John took his seat beside his wife.

"Well I'm going to go and mingle," Janine announced loudly, turning and walking away.

As if anyone bloody cares…Molly said to herself, cringing inwardly. She turned her attention back to the doctor and his wife. "I believe that you are familiar to me," she said. "You have a private practice do you not? And you teach the lab courses at St. Bart's hospital?"

John nodded. "I do indeed. Have you been in one of my classes?"

Molly shook her head. "No, not yet. I think in my third year that I will be allowed that option."

John looked relieved. "I was hoping that I was not so rude that I did not remember one of my own students," he said laughing softly.

Before Molly could answer him, John's gaze lifted over her head. "Ah, Sherlock," John said jovially. "Come and join us."

Molly's face fell and her body stiffened instantly. She swallowed hard, her mind quickly trying to think up an excuse to move without being rude.

"Why thank you John," Sherlock said, his deep baritone seeming to move over her skin. She fought the need to shiver, keeping her back ram rod straight. "If your lovely guest does not object."

Molly heard the mocking tone in his voice and she turned to look at him with her eyes narrowed. "Not at all Mr. Holmes," she said with insincere sweetness.

His eyes glittered with amusement as he took the seat beside her. Sherlock turned his attention to Mary. "How lovely you look this evening Mrs. Watson," he said, with a wicked glint in his eye.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Behave Sherlock," she said. "You are a guest in someone else's home."

One of Nathaniel's hired servers brought more champagne to the table. Molly gratefully took a glass and began people watching once again. John and Sherlock were engaged in conversation and Molly knew that she should engage Mary, but she dared not for fear that the men would want to join them. It would appear however that the fates were against her, because Sherlock spoke to her anyways.

"So tell me, Molly, "he drawled. "John tells me that you are a student at University?"

She forced herself to put on a polite smile and nodded. "Yes, I am."

"How very interesting," he said as he leaned closer to her. He stared at her with a bemused expression. She could feel her cheeks color. The bastard was making fun of her. Probably just like every other bloody man in this room, thinking a woman could be nothing more than something pretty hanging from his arm and had no other use than to spread her legs and pop out an heir.

"I'm glad you find it so, Mr. Holmes," she bit out. "If you will excuse me," she said, starting to stand, but was stopped by his hand coming over hers.

"I think I should like to dance," he said. "Would you do me the honor?"

"I really should see to the guests and…"

"Nonsense," he said standing. "That is why Nathaniel has a paid staff." He held his hand out to her, knowing that she could not refuse without embarrassing her grandfather with her rudeness. Several sets of eyes were already watching the display and it became more interesting to the guests the longer she stalled in taking his hand.

"Sherlock…" John warned.

Molly swallowed down her anger and took his hand, refusing to allow her dislike of this man make her seem ungracious in front of her grandfather's guests.

He led her to the dance floor, pulling her into his arms. He looked down at her with an insufferably smug smirk. She found herself wanting to slap the look right of his face. He must have seen this response in her expression, because his grin widened and his eyes danced wickedly.

"Do you live alone in the city?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes," she said as he twirled her in his arms. "I have a flat not far from the University."

"In deed," he said with a raised brow. "Your grandfather allows you to live alone in the city?"

"I am a grown woman," she said coldly. "I can make my own decisions."

"Of course you can," he said with an amused drawl. He swayed her to the music and though she was loathe to admit it, he was an excellent dancer. "So tell me more about yourself," he said.

"What is it you wish to know," she asked, gasping when he tightened his hold on her, pulling her flush against his body.

He shrugged as he held her. "We could start with your interests," he said. "Do you have any interest in the theater?"

Begrudgingly, she answered him. "Yes, I love the theater actually. I saw William Shakespeare's Hamlet preformed last weekend at the theater. It was sublime," she said honestly.

"How fortunate that we share the same interests," he said dryly. "Because I was hoping to find a companion for the upcoming showing of Twelfth Night, I would be honored if you would accompany me."

"I have already seen it thank you," she said, trying to pull away from him, but he held her in a vice grip.

"And I'm sure you would enjoy seeing it again," he said as his gaze moved over her head. A large grin of satisfaction appeared on his face. "Nathaniel," he called as he spun Molly so that she could see her grandparents joining them on the dance floor. "I was just suggesting to Molly, that she allow me to escort her to the National Theater's performance of the Twelfth Night this coming Saturday."

Nathaniel was positively beaming. "A most excellent idea," he said excitedly. "Capital! Thank you so much for your considerate invitation Sherlock, I am sure that Molly would be delighted to accept." Nathaniel said looking affectionately at Molly. "She's spends so much time with her nose in a book. I keep telling her that a young girl her age needs to get out more and enjoy her life. After all, she's never going to meet any young men keeping to herself."

"You're quite right, I'm sure," Sherlock said. "Then how about it sweet Molly," he purred, causing an involuntary shiver to move down her spine. His lips quirked as he felt her tremble in his arms.

Molly fixed him with a stone cold stare, but knew she could not refuse him. "I would be delighted," she said in a hard voice.

"Would you indeed," he whispered as he stared down into her face with smoldering eyes. The music stopped and he led her back to the table with John and Mary. As she sat down, he kept his hold on her hand. "Until Saturday Molly," he said softly, kissing her hand.

She watched him as he turned and left her sitting at the table.

Well guys, what do you think?

Hugs and thanks for reading!