SUMMARY: "How's about you and me play some back seat bingo?" In which, Sherlock Holmes is a stiff and Molly Hooper takes her love story into her own hands. 1950s!AU.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Inspired by a prompt/drawing on Tumblr. Enough said.
Alternate Summary: In which, Sherlock Holmes is a stiff and Molly Hooper is a badass.
CHEMISTRY
"How's about you and me play some back seat bingo, hot stuff?"
It starts out innocently enough, Molly thinks.
An experiment, that's all.
Mary – her best friend since they had been in diapers – had convinced her. She said that the only way to catch Sherlock's attention was through science.
Science, Molly sighed.
Molly could do science. Even though her mother frowned and claimed that it wasn't lady-like – Molly loved science, she wanted to be a scientist.
Maybe like Marie Curie.
Molly looks up from her chemistry notes and glances at Mary (who's too busy looking at John, the jock of the school). They had made promises to each other – as women, Mary had reiterated over and over again – they would take love into their own hands.
.
.
.
"It's all a load of stuff, Molls. I mean, why can't the girls ask out the guys? I'm tellin' you Molls, us gals gotta stick up for ourselves! We're grown women, for heaven's sakes."
Molly had been silent but she had cast Mary a wry look – Mary was the school's resident paper shaker or Pom-Pom girl. All girly and pink, no one would have ever thought Mary Morstan was two skirts away from being a hard-core feminist.
.
.
.
Mr. Lestrade, Molly's chemistry teacher, was the catalyst of the so-called experiment.
"Alright, class. Today I have an announcement to make." The class quiets down as Molly watches a few of the chicks in her class swooned (Mr. Lestrade, was known as the Silver Fox among the faculty and student body alike). "As you all should know, our school is holding the annual town science fair in three weeks' time. Your assignment is to pair off with someone in this class and come up with your own experiment to present at the fair."
The class begins to murmur and bustle – mostly with groans.
"Anderson! What have I told you about spit balls?" The man shouts.
"Sorry, Teach. Won't happen again." Molly rolled her eyes; there wasn't a bigger dipstick in the school than Anderson.
Molly looks over at Mary's desk but finds it empty – she swivels around and sees her friend canoodling with John Watson. She feels slightly betrayed but she feels proud of her outgoing friend. Mary was kind and one of the most popular girls at the school – she deserved to have her "happily ever after" as clichéd as it sounded.
She catches sight of Sherlock Holmes – resident odd ball and John's right hand man. Molly had never seen him playing any sports and he often haunted the library after school.
There were some odd rumors floating around about him – but Molly never paid heed to idle gossip. There were enough rumors about her – Molly knew that she was often called a "ditz" or "skag" behind her back especially after that incident with the frogs last year.
Most people just found it odd that someone like John could stand Sherlock.
Molly just found it odd that most people didn't notice Sherlock's brilliance.
People would often label him as a "drip" or just another "wet rag" (not like Anderson though, everyone thought Sherlock was loads better than that fink).
Not Molly though.
He was a regular Einstein, in Molly's opinion.
So, Molly gathers up all of her womanly courage as Mary would so eloquently put it and marches over to Sherlock's desk.
The look he gives her makes her knees quake – but Molly's mind snaps rigid.
If there was one thing that Molly prided herself on, it was science.
Molly could be professional. Molly would be professional.
"Do you want to be partners?" Her voice is much, much, much calmer than her shrieking girlish heart. Molly is surprised that her voice doesn't even waver despite the mental scream-off that was occurring internally.
He blinks – once, twice, and thrice – and Molly is slowly losing her cool.
She watches him look over at John (who's clearly engaged in some deep discussion about hair barrettes with Mary) before nodding.
And Molly squeals – internally, of course because there are enough damn rumors floating around – and smiles.
.
.
.
Mary would have been proud (at least, Molly thinks so) since she had been the one to set the time and place of their meetings to plan out their science project.
Chemistry lab.
After school.
Molly tries to pretend the entire day that she's not overly excited – it's just a science project, she tells herself.
She knows enough about Sherlock to know that it's highly unlikely for it to be anything else.
He had about the same sexuality as a rock.
Which is to say, not very much at all.
Unfortunately (or fortunately), Mary thinks otherwise.
.
.
.
"He's a man, Molls." Mary says as their painting their nails and listening to the radio.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Molly drawls as she flips through the magazine.
"Has he ever said that he wasn't interested in you?"
Molly furrowed her eyebrows, "I don't think he's interested in any girl."
Mary rolls her eyes, "You're missing the point! Just 'cause no girl's ever dared to ask doesn't mean he isn't interested!"
"'Sides. Sally always says that men like women who take charge."
.
.
.
Molly fusses with her hair – she still hasn't gotten over the fact that it's short (Mary had convinced her to lob it off, said it made her look like a sex pot like Grace Kelly) – and her fingers smooth over her red, satin hairband.
She also bagged Mary's lip gloss after all, if she was going to make a fool of herself why not look good while doing it?
.
.
.
Surprisingly, he's already in the lab – beakers, test tubes and a Bunsen burner are already messily scattered across the counter top.
Sherlock looks up from his work – almost stupefied by her presence – as Molly opens the door and shuts it quietly.
Suddenly, Mary's advice of be your own woman! is too hard to follow. Molly doesn't know what she was thinking – she's drab little Molly Hooper.
Molly Hooper isn't known for seducing – she's known for dissecting frogs and being a wallflower.
Molly licks her lips nervously – cherry, typical Mary – and suddenly, her courage is strengthened.
If anything, Molly didn't want to look back on this moment and regret.
She was going to take her love story into her own hands.
.
.
.
Molly marches over to him as he simply stares at her with a confused look on his face.
She tugs on his tie, forcing him to stoop to meet her eye to eye.
"Molly, what are you –"
"An experiment. We're doing chemistry, right?" Her eyes are hooded as she leans over.
Despite the blush that flecks Sherlock's face, he wears a small smirk though confused smirk.
If there was one thing that Molly Hooper understood – it was chemistry.