He answers on the second ring, 'Sh… Sher… Sherlock!' Silence follows and then a couple of seconds later a girlish giggle echoes down the line.

'Molly.' Sherlock replies, his voice devoid of emotion.

'Hi!' she giggles again, 'I just called to say how welcome you are in my… flat!' she mumbles something to someone she's with before she continues, 'and you can stay as long as you want, really. That's it.' He wants to warn her about saying his name and place of residence so loudly but he shrugs it off. It is more than likely that most people in the immediate vicinity are too inebriated to notice or even care what Molly Hooper is yelling into her phone.

'Right then, thanks Molly.' He replies, wanting to end the phone call quickly for the sake of her embarrassment in the morning. 'Be safe.' He makes a motion to put the phone down but hears what he presumes are her friends starting a chorus of drunken singing. No, he thinks listening, more like drunken chanting.

'Molly loves Sherlock, Molly loves Sherlock.'

'Oh…' Molly laughs again, 'Ignore that, 'S the…. Music! Yeah, in the club!' He hears her frantically shushing her friends, to little avail.

'Oh, For God's sake Molly! What have you told them?'

'Nothing. Sherlock? Are you mad at me?'

'No.' he says shortly, 'Where are you?'

She tells him the name of the club which she is currently stood outside.

'I don't know the name of the street.' Sherlock knows where it is but frowns as he hears the receding voices of her friends.

'Molly?'

'Yeah?'

'Stay where you are. I'll come and pick you up.'

Even though her drunken haze what he's just said registers with Molly.

'No.' Molly suddenly sounds much more sober, 'You can't! What if someone sees you, Sherlock?'

'Stay where you are.'

'Ok,' she squeaks into the phone as it disconnects.

He peers out of the window of the cab and spots her under the violent fluorescent lights of the club, looking disgruntled and cold.

'Just here cabbie,' he says to the man driving.

The cab pulls up next to Molly as he opens the door and tugs her arm to pull her inside.

As they pull away the cab lurches around a corner and Molly's head falls into Sherlock's lap. She makes a noise of defeat when she realises she doesn't have the energy to pull herself back up. Sherlock wonders what to do with himself. He can't exactly push her off when she's in this state. Tentatively, he lifts his hand and pulls his long fingers softly though her slightly curled hair, tugging out the knots. He knows that he has always felt comforted when someone strokes his dark curls, even if he pretends to hate it. She makes a noise of contentment and so he is encouraged. He continues to stroke her hair until he realises she has fallen asleep and even then he doesn't stop. He doesn't want to.