AN: A Sherlolly Regency au with arranged-marriage fluff. Because it's Friday. 😘
It wasn't like the poets wrote. There was no sudden realisation, no grand epiphany that knocked him off his feet, the sun didn't suddenly come out from behind the clouds and dawn upon him.
It was a gradual realisation, a slow romance of the heart, stealing him away one heartbeat at a time.
He knew what was happening all along. Oh, he had tried to resist and put distance between them, but he was drawn to her like a honeybee to a flower. Eventually, all his protests faded and he let himself fall freely, happily.
And now it was time. She suspected, he knew. But was dubious, no doubt of his own making for his cold disregard early in their acquaintance.
He had surely been a fool.
As the sun was rising over the garden, he stepped out onto the veranda and searched for his wife, catching her just down the path by the rose bushes, the hem of her dress damp with dew.
He quietly came upon her, yet to be noticed, and took a moment to memorize the sight of her in the early morning light, with gold and red hues dancing across her profile.
As Molly reached out to touch the petals of a particularly vibrant rose, he did the same. She drew back and looked up at him, her brown eyes wide in surprise.
Carefully, he plucked the flower from its stem, never looking away from her, and gently, reverently, tucked it behind her ear, letting his hand linger against the warmth of her cheek.
Her eyes fluttered at his touch and he delighted in the blush that darkened the apples of her cheeks.
Slowly, he leaned down, his hand coming around to cradle the back of her head, his fingers getting lost in the softness of her hair. He held back before their lips touched and waited, hoped, that she was willing to fall, as he had done.
He felt her small hand on his cheek just as she lifted her face and closed the distance, her lips brushing against his, once. Twice. Then again, more confidently.
It would be easy to get carried away. But now was not the time, he knew. They had an entire future together to look forward to and this was their beginning.
With great reluctance, he broke their embrace. Suddenly shy once more, she would have stepped away, but for him catching her hand as she pulled it back. He pressed a tender kiss to her palm, her skipping heartbeat matching his own.
He smiled and stepped back, holding out his arm. With an answering smile, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.
As they continued on through the gardens, Sherlock found his gaze drawn more often to Molly than to the flora and he smiled to himself, very much looking forward to courting his wife.