Disclaimer: I do not in fact own these characters, but i will use them as i see fit.

When Molly hears her front door rattle, she's not instantly alarmed. Since she'd only awoken a little while ago, it took her a minute to even realize what was happening. When it hits her that someone is entering her flat without her consent, alarm sets in. But when she spies the familiar silhouette of one Sherlock Holmes walk through the door, her alarm was quickly replaced with a burst of joy.

"Hello Molly." His deep baritone reverberates down her spine and Molly's suddenly wide awake. As she returns his greeting and watches him divest himself of his Belstaff and scarf, her joy is suddenly replaced with a bit of anxiety. She became instantly aware that she wasn't exactly dressed for company.

As Sherlock enters her living room, he gives Molly a smile and heads over to say hello properly. He's only just returned from a case with John. What at first appeared to be a 6 had quickly morphed into a full blown 9. It had required them to travel to Scotland, with the original intention of clearing up an inheritance dispute. Upon further investigation, a shady land deal, star crossed lovers, and a supposedly haunted carriage house were but a few of the puzzle pieces that presented themselves. He'd decided to drop in on Molly to fill her in. But first things first-he plops himself down next to her, and leans towards her, intent clear on his face.

But Molly seems resistant. Sherlock pulls back. He wonders if he has somehow transgressed. Did he do anything lately that could be construed as 'not good'? Nothing immediately comes to mind. Is she mad he didn't call or text? She knows how he gets on a case; perhaps a month was a rather long time to go without contact, but it had happened before and she was always brushing off his attempts to apologize. She said she understood, and with her cheerful grin would begin to fill him in on his experiments. And then it hit him-since the change in their relationship, he'd always returned whilst she was at St Bart's. Today was her day off though, and Sherlock had decided he didn't want to wait till Friday to see her.

He took in her appearance and noted a few things. Her hair was piled on top of her head in some sort of bun, though it was haphazardly thrown together; her face was scrubbed clean, though it had that puffy, rumpled look of someone who'd only just woken up. Indeed she was still in her cotton slip and red dressing gown, with her mother's quilt thrown over her lower half. Her hands were in fact gripping said quilt. Though she was mostly thrilled to see him, a small part of her seemed a bit panicked. He took all this in within a moment and then met her eyes, with a smile tugging at the corners of lips.

"Molly, you're having a lie in."

Molly of course knew what he'd been doing in the moment he'd taken to assess her. She was used to it by now. They'd been work colleagues for years and proper friends since his return. And in the months since they'd started seeing each other socially, his deductions only seemed to come quicker and with more accuracy. Five minutes after entering her flat the first time, he'd run down her entire morning and evening routine. She'd been giving him a tour after their fourth date-he'd taken her to a museum for an exhibit about the science and art of medicine. She'd invited him back to her place with the intention of seducing him, a plan she momentarily rethought when he so clinically laid out her day. Instead, with a smirk and glint in her eyes, she walked up to him, placed her hands on his shoulders, looked him in the eye, and informed him he forgot to mention the mornings she'd ran late because she'd gotten off in her shower thinking about him-or the nights she came home, laid in bed and done the same thing all over again. He'd had her against a wall with her leg wrapped round his hip in 3 seconds flat, his mouth biting her lips, demanding entrance. The night had turned out better than Molly could have ever imagined. That night she'd been prepared though-she'd been to the salon with Mary and had a blowout, a mani-pedi, all the bells and whistles. When they came together that evening, Molly had felt confident and beautiful.

This morning she felt none of those things. He had caught her in a lie in. She'd had all kinds of plans to get up and go for a run and to the market, then come back and clean her flat top to bottom. None of that happened-she snoozed her alarm when it went off at 8; it was downcast and drizzling and Molly was far too warm under her covers. She told herself ten more minutes. Which turned into twenty. Which turned into her shutting her alarm off completely and snuggling down until almost noon. When she awoke again, the rain had stopped and sunlight poured through her window. She thought of all of her grand plans for the day, and without any regret decided she wasn't doing any of them. After lying about for another few minutes, she dragged herself out of bed and headed for her small kitchen. She'd made herself some tea and toast and moved to her favorite spot on the coach. With her mother's quilt draped over legs, she proceeded to get lost in crap telly. And that's exactly how he'd found her not twenty minutes later. She gave him that same smirk she had given him that night, and she releases her hold on the blanket and settled her hands on her lap.

"So I am. Obviously I wasn't expecting you back, or I'd be much more presentable."

"There's no need to fret Molly-we only got back an hour or so ago. I don't think I've had a shower in at least two days. I don't see the need for you to worry about your appearance."

"Maybe you don't see the need, but I'd like to keep a bit of mystery between us. I'd have liked more time before you saw me in my comfys, unshowered, watching silly dance shows."

"Molly, I feel the need to point out again that, although I'm not in comfys as you call them, I'm not presently at my best either. And as for the show, you work arduous hours at an intense job where you deal with grieving families, inept colleagues, the idiots at Scotland Yard, and a pompous git of a consulting detective. If watching washed up celebrities attempt waltzes and cha-chas makes you happy, then by all means."

The smirk on her face turned into a full on grin. She leaned towards him to give him a proper welcome home kiss. He reciprocated in kind, grabbing her head and kissing her with equal verve. Molly pulled back and looked into his eyes.

"I missed you."

"That's good since I missed you too. And if you're up to it I'd like to take you to lunch. "

"I'd like that. But first I need a shower."

"Right. Of course."

Sherlock didn't hide his disappointment at being put off, but for Molly's sake, he supposed he could do with quick shower and change as well. With a final kiss, Molly stood up and headed toward the bathroom. When Sherlock made to head out the door, Molly's voice stopped him.

"Aren't you going to join me?"

With a familiar glint in her eyes, Molly dropped her dressing gown where she stood in front of the bathroom door. Then she grabbed the bottom of the slip and pulled it up and tossed it down too. She stood before him naked and with a wink disappeared into the bathroom. Sherlock dropped his coat and was out his clothes before he shut the door to the bathroom behind him.

Author's Note: I've edited this since my original post. I fixed a few missed words and one sentence. Thanks again for reading.