Molly sighed as she slumped back into the couch cushions, pulling the blanket tighter around her as she did. Another rerun was beginning on the telly and she was resigned to the fact that the remote was simply too far away and she hadn't the strength to get up and fetch it. A nasty bug was going around the office and she's picked it up.

Canned audience laughter filled the living room when a harsh knock came at the door. Before Molly could get up, the door burst open. Sherlock snapped the door shut and ruffled his hair as he surveyed the interior of the house briefly.

"Sherlock," Molly gasped.

"You weren't at work today. You're always at work." Sherlock studied her for a moment before pursing his lips and nodding. A waste basket of tissues. An uncomfortably warm house. Bags under those usually sparkling eyes. "Ah. Influenza. Undiagnosed, but obvious. I'm assuming that means you've not filled a prescription."

Molly shook her head. "No. I haven't."

"I wasn't asking," Sherlock growled. "I knew."

"Of course," Molly mumbled to herself. She tried to casually smooth her frizzy, unbrushed hair into some sort of attractive 'd expected to stay in, warm up a can of soup, and catch up on her programs. Instead, she was now not only miserable physically, but mentally.

"I'll put on a tea," Sherlock announced, turning and heading for the kitchen.

"I'm all right," Molly called as her heart began pounding. She winced as it thudded in her congested ears. "Gah."

"Are you all right?" Sherlock poked his head out from behind the kitchen wall.

The familiar curve of his long neck made Molly smile. She nodded and sat back on the couch. "Lovely, thanks. Just the usual aches and pains with the flu." As Sherlock went back to filling the teapot, she wracked her brain, trying to understand his sudden appearance. "Sherlock," she called, "did you need something," she paused, "from me?"

The defininitive CLICK of the tea kettle on the stove announced his attention. "Need something?" In a matter of three long strides, Sherlock was standing before the sick woman with a condescending look on his face.

"I, well," Molly stammered, "you've never dropped by and as a matter of fact, how do you know where I live?" It only took a second before she rolled her eyes. "Never mind. But truly, I called in ill. Surely you could have asked my manager or,"

"Or checked on you myself and cut out any unnecessary communication with those sad little people." Sherlock clapped his hands together and stared at Molly expectantly.

"Erm, I, yes?"

"Since you haven't eagerly suggested I remove my jacket and stay a while, I'll see you tomorrow at work, Molly. I can see you're in no mood for company."

"No, no, no!" Molly exclaimed as Sherlock turned and reached for the door. "I'm just surprised is all. Please, won't you stay a while? You came all this way and the tea's not even ready."

Sherlock spun back around and beamed. "Excellent!"

"Here," Molly said as she cleared a spot on the opposite end of the couch.

Sherlock grabbed a throw pillow from her and smiled. "Relax, Molly Hooper. I may be a guest, but you are sick. Allow me. You have assisted me in much more vital things. You've been the final link in solving cases. I think I owe it to you to see that you're feeling well."

"Oh," Molly said dejectedly.

"That doesn't please you?" Sherlock asked, frowning.

"Oh, no, it does," Molly lied. Here she'd gone, thinking some subconscious desire had brought him to her house.

"What, John? No. Truth is, Molly," he said as he sat next to her, "I've gotten used to seeing you every day."

Molly struggled to refrain from letting her eyes wander to the hand Sherlock had let drop to her knee. "I suppose that's right, isn't it?"

The tea kettle whistled. "Oh, I'll fetch that, then," Sherlock said after a moment before awkwardly jumping up and striding to the kitchen.

Molly took a breath and touched her cheeks. They felt warmer than they had all day. She exhaled and nestled deeper into the sofa. Not only did she feel awful, but she surely looked awful, too. There wasn't a chance Sherlock wasn't going to notice THAT. Regardless, she was happy to see him.

"Are you feverish?" Sherlock piped as he set her tea on the coffee table in front of her. He quickly laid the back of his hand upon her forehead. "You're quite warm. Your cheeks are flushed. I fear I WON'T be seeing you at work tomorrow, after all." He frowned. "Pity."

Molly giggled nervously. "I'd rather be there than here all alone." She held her breath, hoping Sherlock would offer to come over again tomorrow.

"Well you aren't alone anymore. Drink your tea." Sherlock sat back on the couch and crossed his legs comfortably. He reached for
the remote and began surfing through the television channels, commenting on each program as he passed it. "Dull. Idiotic.
Boring. Seen it."

"Don't you have any cases going on you should be working on right now?" Molly stared at Sherlock's profile with deep interest. Could it really be sheer attraction and care for her well-being that brought him here?

"I do," Sherlock replied, nodding and taking another sip of tea. "I told you already. I didn't see you at work and grew concerned. None of these lousy boyfriends of yours would bother to come see to you, so here I am."

"I don't have a lousy boyfriend," Molly quickly shot. "Well, I don't technically have a boyfriend at all," she added.

"Ah, good, then," Sherlock said with a smile.

"What?" Molly stared in disbelief. Her heart fluttered. "Why's that good?"

"Drink your tea, Molly." Sherlock smirked and took a sip of his own brew.

"Wait, you didn't know that?" Molly raised an eyebrow as she watched the cocky grin slide almost immediately from Sherlock's lips. "You couldn't deduce that I don't have a boyfriend right now?" As his disappeared, a smirk formed on Molly's face.

"I thought," Sherlock mumbled as he quickly searched the room for more clues. His eyes settled briefly on a pair of high heels by the door. Nail polish on the coffee table. A half-crocheted hat on the floor by the armchair. A mascara spilling out of her relatively new handbag that was certainly more expensive than she could afford. "No. You certainly have a boyfriend. There's some man you fancy. You do your best to maintain even trivial features - nails, makeup, hair on point at all times in hopes that the shallow bastard will notice and fall in lust over you for it."

Molly cleared her throat and looked down at her bright red nails with the glitter accent nail. "No, just doing things for myself."

"Hmm. It's a pity, really. You don't need any of this. Hmmm." Sherlock continued to scan the apartment as Molly turned her attention back to the TV. As thrilled as she was at Sherlock's unexpected visit, she couldn't fend off her exhaustion any longer and fell asleep.

When he returned his attention to her, a smile passed over his lips. "Sleep well, Molly Hooper," Sherlock whispered before bending and pecking her on top of the head.

When Molly woke up later that evening, she was astonished to find the dishes had been done and Sherlock had left a note on the coffee table.

"Feel better, Miss Molly Hooper. -S."