Warning: spoilers for The Princess Bride!

Molly and Sherlock's coffee choices were exactly opposite. She liked milky unsweetened coffee while the detective took it black with two (and sometimes even three) sugars. He'd never bothered to make it for her, of course, but he had noticed her preference on the coffee front. It would have been hard not to observe while staying with her for a couple of weeks after faking his suicide. Now that Sherlock was back, resurrected, reinstalled in Baker St and resurgent in his career, he had a new respect for Dr Molly Hooper. She was the woman who counted. He wasn't yet sure what she counted for but observation and deduction would help him arrive at the answer, as always.

It was a sunny day in June but in the underground windowless morgue of St Bart's Hospital, it could have been any time of the year and any weather. As Molly had the early shift, she already had 3 hours of work under her belt when Sherlock appeared at 10am.

"Morning, Molly. I brought you some coffee."

"Well, you must want something."

"You wound me. Can't a man just bring his friend some coffee?"

"A man could but you usually have ulterior motives. Now what is it today? You need a spleen for microwaving? Or you want a whole body to throw off a roof? Oh no wait, we did that in March!"

"You are hilarious. I want nothing more than to check on my lab experiments, and I was under the impression I didn't need permission for that! Enjoy your coffee."

Sherlock stalked over to "his" lab bench and got to work.

Molly gathered she had said something wrong but she had already devoted too much time to dissecting Sherlock's thoughts to be bothered on this occasion. She took a sip of the coffee and was delighted to discover it was exactly as she took it. Feeling a little guilty, she called out to him.

"Excellent coffee. Didn't realise you knew how I took it. It's just right, like Goldilocks. Thanks."

Sherlock mumbled something about noticing everything and resumed peering into the microscope.

"Where's John today?"

"He's working at the clinic. At least that's what he's pretending to do. He's really only taken extra shifts there so he can chat up a new nurse, Mary something."

Molly smiled. She never thought she'd see the day where she gossiped with Sherlock Holmes. He had changed so much in the past few years, partly John's influence and partly because faking your own death was pretty life-altering.

"So you've pre-approved this new lady then?"

"No, I have merely checked her out. She seems acceptable. But they all do until they start coming over to Baker St."

"Your perfect future is exactly the same as your present, isn't it? You and John, confirmed bachelors, solving crimes and eating takeaways."

Sherlock looked up at her, and for some unknown reason, seemed a little embarrassed.

"I wouldn't say that. It's unrealistic to think that neither of us will undergo material changes in our lives. John is very likely to settle down someday. It might even be with this new one."

"He hasn't asked her out yet!"

"True, but his usual modus operandus is to ask a woman out for coffee first, or bring coffee to her, which is less threatening than dinner, and he progresses from there. I've made a study of it," he added proudly.

"Gosh, well, I wouldn't be in a hurry to publish the dating habits of Dr John Watson on your blog, Sherlock. You'll give away all his secrets!"

Sherlock scoffed at her warning. He had already put it up two weeks ago, but, perhaps proving that no one read it, John hadn't had a single call or jibe about it.

"Out of curiosity, as a woman, do you feel less threatened by the idea of coffee than dinner?" he continued.

"Are coffee and dinner euphemisms here?"

"No," spluttered Sherlock. Dinner euphemisms always brought up interesting memories, though he chose not to share that fact with Molly.

"Hmm. I suppose so. If one is going out for dinner, there are expectations."

"Of what?"

"Social niceties, making an effort with appearance, fighting over the bill, whether you might kiss at the end of the evening. Coffee could be seen as an easier, afternoon option – taking up less time. A whole evening out with someone might be a bit much on first acquaintance," explained Molly.

"So this would only apply if you had no prior involvement?" he mused.

"I suppose so. But it depends on the context of the previous connection."

"Fascinating."

And here, Sherlock appeared to lose interest and went back to his microscope.

A few days later, Molly was working a later shift, when Sherlock arrived in, again with coffee for her, and this time with John in tow.

"Thought you might need this to get through to midnight," he said.

"Thanks. Actually, things changed, and I get to leave shortly but I appreciate the boost anyway. What are you two here for?"

"We need to look at a body, and someone couldn't wait until tomorrow!" said John.

"It's essential that we see it now."

"Which body?" said Molly calmly.

"It needs to be less than 24 hours old and male, but otherwise it doesn't matter."

"Oh so this is for science, rather than a particular case?"

"Yes."

Molly shrugged. She was used to the detective's unusual requests at this stage.

"So how's it going with Mary?" she asked John.

"How do you know about Mary?" John asked, astonished.

"Oh a little birdy told me…" she nodded in Sherlock's direction.

"Right, must remember that for future reference. It's going rather well. We've had a couple of dates."

"You see, Molly, I was right, they've progressed to dinners. Soon they'll be on to phase 3," interrupted Sherlock.

"Oh yes, what was phase 3 again?"

"It's "John cooks dinner for the lady and kicks me out of the flat for the evening", and it's happening tomorrow night. Could you possibly entertain me?"

"Wait, what do you mean phase 3? Have you been plotting out my dating habits?" John asked.

Molly and Sherlock looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"No…John, not at all. He just knows you really well…" replied Molly, winking at Sherlock.

"How about we go to the cinema, Sherlock?" she continued.

"The cinema? Couldn't we stay here and do experiments instead?"

"No! I'm here quite enough as it is. If you want to be here alone doing experiments, that's fine with me. I'll let Mike know."

"Alright, you've twisted my arm, but I get to pick the film. I'll text you," said Sherlock, with an air of being much put upon.

John looked curiously at Sherlock and then Molly, who shrugged.

When it came, Sherlock's text gave no information other than an address and a time for the following evening. Molly was pretty easy going when it came to films, so she happily compiled with the instructions and showed up. Sherlock was already there waiting for her.

"Hey. What are we seeing? I didn't know this place was a cinema."

"It's a private screening room. The owner owes me a favour. We're watching 2 movies: one for me and one for you."

"And they are?"

"Mine is The Usual Suspects. I want to go back over what I missed. I'm still annoyed that I didn't figure out the whole Kaiser Soze thing first time around."

As they went inside, Molly realised they would be the only people in this small screening room. This meant Sherlock would be able to talk during the films and there was nothing she could do about it. He was terrible for talking during TV – worst of all if there were detective stories on.

"Right, and what's the film you've chosen for me?"

"The Princess Bride."

Molly gripped Sherlock's arm excitedly. "How did you know I'd like to see that on a big screen?"

"I deduced," he replied, looking very pleased with himself.

Molly had never been in a private cinema before – it was great: big comfy seats, with footrests, whatever alcohol she fancied, no one in the way of the screen. If Sherlock hadn't been so intent on discussing the plot out loud, it would have been perfect. At least she had seen these films before. She did her best to ignore his running commentary and nursed a glass of beer. They took a short interval between the movies.

"Well, it's completely obvious to me now what I missed before. I don't know how I missed those clues originally."

"Could it be that you were just enjoying the film and not trying to beat the characters to the plot?"

Sherlock glared at her.

"Of course not. Isn't that the point of mysteries on television? So you can work it out first and be smug?"

"Maybe for you! Now, serious question. Have you seen The Princess Bride before?"

"No, why?"

Molly sighed. As much as she loved this film, Sherlock was sure to have questions during it.

"Ok, a few pointers: it's meant to be funny, it's mocking a whole genre of films and just try to suspend your disbelief."

"As long as there's no flying people or random singing, I can cope."

They started to watch and Sherlock started questioning. Why were the places all named after old money? It was unrealistic that the grandfather would read the whole book aloud in so few sittings. Why was Westley such a pushover? But once they got to the bit with pirates, he shut up and allowed himself to be swept along with the plot. He quite agreed with the grandson about the unnecessary kissing bits. Molly watched the whole thing with shining eyes, softly mouthing some of the best lines and a huge smile on her face. As the story came to an end with one final kiss, she turned to Sherlock.

"What did you think?"

"It was…not terrible."

"Not terrible?! Oh come on. It was brilliant. It's a masterpiece."

"I wouldn't go that far. The fights were good. They'd obviously done their homework on sword masters and techniques."

"Trust you to know something like that. Well, I loved it. Again. Thank you for picking this."

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Sherlock flinched slightly but said nothing. He looked at his watch.

"I think it's probably safe to go home now. I'll drop you off in the cab on the way."

When the cab pulled up to her building a few minutes later, an uncomfortable silence had sprouted between Molly and Sherlock.

"Right, well, if we were on a date, I'd invite you in for coffee but…as it is, I'll see you during the week, yeah?"

"Indeed. Thank you for keeping me company tonight."

She grinned and exited the car. Sherlock told the driver to take him to Baker St.

"She wanted you to come in, mate," said the driver conversationally.

Sherlock groaned inwardly. He hated chatty cabbies.

"No, she didn't."

"Course she did, and you wanted to as well. Her place is in the opposite direction to yours, it don't make sense to share a cab. And that comment about coffee."

"Yes, why do people always say that? Surely they don't want to be awake half the night drinking caffeine so late."

"Ha, I think you'll find that the coffee is a euphemism for something else that would keep you awake half the night. Have you been living on Mars or somethin'?" the cabby laughed to himself.

Sherlock sat back, enlightened. But of course the driver was right: he did want this, he just wasn't entirely sure how to achieve it.

Molly walked slowly up the stairs to her third floor flat. What a lovely evening. It was the best date she'd ever had. Oh wait. Was that what it was? Did he know that? It seemed she had been on a date without realising it. This was where a female best friend would be very handy. Was John even on a date tonight? Oh crap, and she'd made a joke about coming in for coffee. Molly cringed at the thought of such idiocy. Maybe she should text him. After some thought, she had composed the text.

Thanks for a fun evening.

Love M.

How could it take 17 minutes of rewrites to come up with something so prosaic? Still it was better than nothing.

His response was immediate.

No problem

SH

No problem? What kind of answer was that?