Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock and Molly.
"Molly?"
It was Sherlock; he must want her for a case. Well she had just signed out of the freezing morgue she called her place of work and now Molly was able to hang up her lab coat and get a take-away back at her flat. She had no plans to give up that freedom, even for him, despite his cheekbones and his ridiculous hair.
"Molly?" The baritone voice asked again, this time sounding more concerned. Molly emerged from the cloakroom dressed and ready to go home, her sensible shoes stuffed in her bag and ballet flats gracing her feet. His face relaxed as he saw her.
"Ah Molly, there you are"
"Here I am, Sherlock. What is it?" She just managed to stop herself from saying 'what do you need?' Molly could never feel right saying that again, after the memories remained stuck in her head.
"Is it a case? I've just logged out"
"No no. I was um wondering..." He paused. Molly had never heard him so timid, so much like she used to sound around him. Something must be wrong.
He continued "...that is to say, Molly what are you doing tonight?" He must need her for a case, Molly thought. If it was any other bloke, she'd have thought he was attempting to ask her out. But Sherlock? Molly was unsure how to reply so she took him literally and told him her plans for the evening.
"Well Sherlock, since you asked, I'm going to go to my flat, feed Toby, order a Chinese and watch several episodes of Doctor Who until I fall asleep. Why?"
"Can I join you?" He whispered, barely audible. But Molly heard, Molly always hears. Molly always sees. Molly's always counted. Although the look on her face made him think she didn't understand. He decided to repeat himself. He took a step closer to her, invading her personal space and leaned his head down to her ear.
"Can I join you?"