Authors note: This is an AU fanfic. Different setting, different people. Sherlock may seem a little out of character at times, even though I am going to try my hardest to portray the Sherlock we know and love. This was originally started as a Benedict Cumberbatch fanfiction, but I get weird when it comes to writing about actual people. So I decided to turn it into a Sherlock fic, and I really hope you enjoy it. And with that I will leave you to read my story. I hope you enjoy.

The cottage was small and drafty, the floorboards creaked relentlessly, the roof had a leak, and Molly Hooper wanted to weep with joy whenever she walked through the front door.

The place was not perfect by far, but it was something she could call her own.

On her bed sat her suitcase still yet to be unpacked. She'd been 'moved in' now for almost a month, but was still living out of her suitcase.

Then again it had been almost a month now and her abusive ex has yet to contact her. Maybe she was finally free. Shaking her head as if that would remove those thoughts she walked across the creaky floorboards to the bathroom and inspected herself in the mirror. Dark circles laid in prominent rings around her dark brown eyes, and her skin was paler and sicklier than usual. Her usually shiny brown locks were a lackluster, dishwater kind of color. All in all she looked a bit like a ghost. With a heavy sigh she abandoned her reflection and reached for her suitcase, rummaging around for a moment looking for the envelope of money she kept stashed in it. Carefully she removed a few bills and slipped them into her pocket.

Desperately in need of groceries, Molly set out for the store. The town was small, only one grocery store, if you could even call it that. It was more like a glorified bait shop. She pushed open the door of the place, a little bell tinkling as she entered.

"Hello there, Dear. Anything I can help you with?" An older woman with her silver locks piled into a bun, peeked over her glasses at her. Molly smiled and her and shook her head. "I don't think so."

"People here are so kind." She thought. She wasn't used to kindness. She was used to harsh words and closed fist. Shuddering, she stood up a little straighter and made her way around the store, gathering what she needed in a little shopping basket.

She set the basket onto the counter when she had finished filling it with the things she had needed. Among them:

Cereal

Tampons

A tube of toothpaste

A box of crackers

and a block of cheese.

"Is that all you needed?" The woman asked as she calculated the cost.

Molly thought for a moment "Actually, do you have any books?" She asked.

The woman smiled sheepishly. "Well, uh we actually are all sold out. We don't get many books in, and when we do, Mr. Holmes buys them all."

"Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes. He has his own personal library, you could say." She chuckled. "Actually, if you'd like I can give you his address. I'm sure he'd let you borrow something from him."

She was about to refuse when the woman scrawled a note on a little piece of paper and pressed it into her hand.

"I'll warn you though Miss, he's the quiet type. May come off a bit stand-offish but he'll come around."

Molly thanked her as she slipped the paper into her pocket and then gathered the paper bag of groceries into her arms.

()

"It's not too late to turn around."

The little cottage belonging to Mr. Holmes was a few feet in the distance. Molly wrung her hands nervously. She didn't feel comfortable going over there. And what was she supposed to do, exactly? Waltz up to his door and ask to borrow a book? She took a few more steps before halting in place.

No. This was ridiculous. She turned on her heel and started on the path back home. Her eyes were fixed on the ground, and she was so lost in her thoughts that as she passed the mailbox, she ran straight into a man in a long black trechcoat. Her eyes traveled upward and were met by a pair of stunning icy blue eyes.

"Pardon me." He said, the depth of his voice almost taking her by surprise.

"No, I'm sorry." She stammered, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

The man extended his hand. "Sherlock Holmes."

"Sherlock. Oh, Sherlock! Yes. The woman at the shop was telling me about you. She said you have quite the book collection."

Sherlock squinted. "Mmm yes, I suppose I do. No one else in this town really cares for reading. They're all busy doing outdoor activities." He said as if he didn't approve.

"Well, I enjoy a good book." Molly commented, almost shyly.

Sherlock nodded but looked as if his mind were somewhere else.

"Yes well, I best be going." He said, stepping around her and striding to his cottage with his long legs. Molly shook her head.

He was odd, no doubt, but it seemed like he was trying hard to be polite, and for that Molly decided she had to give him some credit.