Run || Victorian AU
Molly sat on the train, her fingers playing idly with her fathers pocket-watch, a painful reminder of his absence. Running the pad of her thumb over the engraved design, his initials, carved so delicately into the shinning silver. The ticking of its steel mechanisms thrumming against her skin. After her mothers death, her father- unable to cope, devoted his life to taking care of her and her sister, lavishing them with attention and gifts, they never wanted for anything.
Haley was always dressed in the finest cloth, always fashionable, following the latest trends, and Molly, Molly had any book she wanted, no matter the subject. As a doctor, he was hardly home, so both she and Haley adored what little time they got to spend with their gentle mannered father, but then he got sick. He didn't tell them at first, but they saw it. The paleness of his skin, the dark circle that only seemed to grow under his eyes, the air of death that hung around his proud shoulders. He passed in barely under a year, a disease of the blood he said.
After his death, all of his fortune, their inheritance was transferred to the care of Siger Holmes. An old friend and colleague of her fathers. Since they had no family to speak of, Mr. Holmes opened his home to them. Molly was barely in her twenty second year, studying mathematics and science within her own home, seeing how formal education frowned on women with scholarly ambitions. Her sister, following her fathers death, wed her long-time suitor and was living happily in marital bliss in Hampshire. Leaving Molly with control and the burden on their large estate, not so large as the Holmes, but large enough to be of great hassle.
She would stay with the Holmes, for as long as she wanted, or that is at least what Mr. Holmes had promised, finding her interest in medical science fascinating, rather then disgusting, he assured her that she would be able to continue her studies uninterrupted with a private tutor, if she so wished.
All of this preyed on her mind as the rumble of the engine filled her hears, as bare trees whisked by and dull chatter invade her compartment.
She was alone, but the walls were thin and she could hear nearly every word spoken by the strangers next door, but eventually the train came to a rattling halt, and with the help of the conductor, she was in London. On the cobblestones platform, a bag in one hand, a handkerchief, and a calling slip in her hand as she looked for her party.
