Hello, here is another story from me. This came to me whilst I was tidying my room, no idea why it just did. If the plot is similar to any others I am sorry, I love the idea of drunken Molly being a little childish. Then Sherlock saving the day.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is probably a good thing as I cannot match the geniuses that are Moffatt and Gatiss. Though I would make sherlolly cannon!

If anyone is interested the idea of the red scarf came from poster someone had made for series 3. In which Sherlock had on a red scarf, sorry but I prefer the blue!

I would greatly appreciate a review, internets hugs to anyone who does (nudge nudge). Now if that is not going to make you review I have no idea what will :P – Kat.

So anyways on with the story…

Molly had spent the last two hours drinking. On her way home from the St Bart's she picked up a couple of bottles of wine. She had never been a particularly big drinker even when she was younger. She didn't drink much as she hated being out of control, nothing good happens when you're plastered. When her parents were both dead she didn't turn to alcohol like so many before her had. To numb the pain she would simply keep working, hoping to forget her private life.

But today after a particularly trying week in the morgue she had had enough. Sherlock had been in demanding her help again. Although today she had tried to stick up for herself by saying no. He just gave her a smile that melted all her resolve and she ended up helping him anyway. Molly had to stay late for the fifth time this week just to get her work done.

She sat on the couch feeling the alcohol run through her causing its own welcome buzz. She could feel herself relaxing and the tension of the day melt away. As she reached for the bottle, having long since discarded the use of the glass she couldn't help but think how much she hated Sherlock. He would come in and disturb any sort of good day she was having, in pursuit of an exciting case or simply to experiment due to his boredom. Thinking about it he had been in every day this week and most of last week, the time between his visits was getting shorter. Molly wondered what had happened to increase the number of visits but ended up drawing a blank.

It took another 30 minutes of continuous drinking and another bottle later for her to form a plan. She was going to call Sherlock and tell him exactly what she thought of him.

Molly giggled to herself as she called his number. Even through her muddled mind it didn't occur to her that he wouldn't pick up. But then again why would he, he's way to self-important for that, she thought.

Instead of doing the sensible thing and stopping her plan she decided to text him. Sherlock never ignores texts.

I dont lik you

As she sent it she giggled to herself again thinking of his face when he saw it.

Sherlock heard the ding of his phone indicating he had a text. Then after shouting for John for a few minutes with no reply he got up from his microscope and retrieved his phone himself. After seeing it was from Molly he got quite excited, lately she had taken to texting him when any interesting cases came into the morgue. After reading the text his face turned from one of happiness to one of intrigue.

The message was not what Molly usually sent for a number of reasons: one, the spelling is a mess; two, no punctuation has been used; and finally three, Molly had never had the nerve to say anything like that too him.

So the question now was who sent it and why. It was sent of Molly's phone no question about that, but she didn't sign it how she usually would i.e. with a minimum of two kisses. But if it was someone else how would they have got Molly's phone of her and then proceed to send him such a strange text. In the end Sherlock decided to text back hoping to find out what was going on.

*don't *like. Would it kill you to use punctuation? – SH

Molly received the text 5 minutes after her sending hers; she was also a little disappointed by his response. Molly didn't really know how he would react but to give her criticism was definitely not it. After taking another slug of wine she composed another message.

Calm down sherly wherly….

Then within seconds her phone was ringing in her hands. Sherlock's name coming up as the caller ID, Molly answered instantly eager to hear what he was going to say.

"Hello you've reached spelling lovers anonymous." Slurred Molly, finishing with a giggle. "Only joking, it's Molly."

"Have you been drinking" he retorted in a crisp tone, clearly not happy with her joke.

"nooooo" wined molly.

"But in other words yes?"

"Well we all have to drink Sherlock, or we would die duh." Finding it all funny as the alcohol lowered her IQ.

"That is most amusing Molly, but have you been drinking alcohol. Although I think I know the answer already."

"Why would you ask then? If you are so smart and you know everything?" Then adding as an afterthought, "by the way it's Doctor Hoooperrrr to you." she said stretching out her name in the most childish fasion.

"Fine, Doctor Hooper." Sherlock said trying to keep laughter out of his own voice. This phone call was one of the funniest conversations he had ever had with the pathologist, although he obviously wouldn't tell her that. "I phoned because of your message, what was that about?"

"I don't like you. I fink my meaning is clear Brainy."

"Yes I know what you said but what do you hate about me?" Sherlock said pretending that she did not just call him brainy. For some reason he felt bad that she looked down on him.

"Well you smell bad, yourrrr a smelly shelly. I don't like smelly things." She said giggling to herself taking a huge slug of wine.

'So it turns out the more she drinks the more childlike she behaves' theorised Sherlock.

"Molly I do not smell." He was trying to take on the superior tone.

"Do so."

Sherlock could not believe the conversation he was having. Yes this is more interesting than the change in bacteria when heated by 1oc every 10 minutes, he concluded to himself.

"Is there any other reason?"

"Yes." Molly said frankly.

"And that is?"

"Well you use me 't the morgue. You only look at me when you wan somethin. After I helped you survive, you've ignored me. You always ignore me when I ask ya out." She had now succeeded in stunning Sherlock; he hadn't expected the conversation to turn in this direction. But before he could string together a vaguely apologetic sentence Molly added one more to the list. "An your new scarf sucks."

This comment caused Sherlock to laugh out loud; this reaction surprised himself and Molly. His laugh was deep yet contagious, though he stopped all too soon.

"What's wrong with red?"

"s' not blue."

"Well Molly no one can say that the alcohol has dulled your observational skills."

"Doctor Hooper" corrected Molly.

"Do you really hate me so much?" he said completely disregarding her last remark. For some reason that was alien to him, he actually felt something akin to guilt. But of course that couldn't be right? Why would he feel guilty about molly?

But her answer pulled him out of all that. Sherlock heard a thump followed by a quiet "ouch".

"Molly are you ok?" concern now washing over him. "I said are you ok" he could hear the worry in his own voice, which just confused him more. "MOLLY" Sherlock shouted down the phone.

"S' DOCTOR HOOPER" she shouted back not understanding why he was shouting.

"Ohh thank god you're ok." He felt himself breathe out a sigh of relief.

"Why would'n I be?"

"Well I heard a thump."

"I nearly fell over." Molly now began to giggle again. Sherlock began to think what a beautiful sound it was. After a second or two he pulled himself back into reality, slightly ashamed about what he was thinking.

"Ohh yes right. You're ok though"

"I'm a fine" Molly was now a bit puzzled at Sherlock's concern.

"Good" said Sherlock very curtly, trying to get his tone impassive again.

After a slightly awkward silence Molly spoke up again.

"Sherlock do you not like me?" he could hear her voice tinted with sadness. "I mean to everyone else you've changed, but you treat me just as you did before. Well you have improvvved slightly. You told me I counted but what does that mean? An lastly why do you always pretend you don't hear me or you misunderstand things whenever I ask you out?" The alcohol was obviously giving her the confidence that she never would have had otherwise. After another awkward silence molly asked another question. "Are you gay?"

Sherlock laughed but this time out of relief that she hadn't asked him what he thought she was going to.

"No Molly, I am not gay"

"Ohhhhh right." Molly wasn't sure if this was good news or bad. It was good as it meant she did have a shot with him but then again he had never been interested in her in the past.

"Umm Molly, I think…" But Sherlock was cut off by another thump although this time it was louder than before. "Molly, are you ok? Molly?

Sherlock waited only a second before he jumped up, grabbed his scarf and coat and headed out of 221B to get a cab.

As he raced to Molly's house he looked down at his scarf noticing which one he had picked up. It wasn't his new read one but his old blue one. It couldn't have been an accident that he picked it up either as it was right at the back out of the way of convenience. He had subconsciously chosen this one, but why? Surly not for Molly's benefit he thought.

As he sat in the cab his mind was going over there conversation in his head. He was particularly trying to dissect his own feelings and responses to Molly's speech, tone and situation. He had felt guilty when she said that he uses her, but she had also made him laugh. He had also felt relief when she didn't ask him out again, but now he thought about it what would he have said. She was drunk so he probably would have brushed it off, but if she was soba it could be different. Could it? Her phone had hung up any a second or two after he heard the thump which did not help quell his worry.

All of this was flying around his head when the cab pulled up to Molly's flat; he quickly paid the cabbie then walked up to the door. The door offered no problems, picking the lock was so easy he wondered if it even counted.

As he walked into the flat he saw her immediately, she was lying between the kitchen and the living room, empty bottle of wine clutched in hand and her phone in the corner.

Sherlock raced over to her to check her pulse, after feeling the beet he was reassured. It looked like she had finished her 1st no second bottle of wine and was going to take it through to the kitchen and get something else to drink. But she never made it she must have collapsed dropping the phone as she fell.

As he scooped her up he heard her murmur something but between her drunken slur and the volume it was projected at, he couldn't pick up the words. Sherlock knew the layout of Molly's flat well, after staying there for 2 week after his jump. So he took her to her room, whilst cradling her warm body to his. Normally this close contact would repel him but for some reason Molly was causing the opposite effect.

He laid her down on the bed and began to creep out. But as he crossed past the kitchen he had a quick idea. For another strange reason that he couldn't explain he didn't want Molly to suffer in the morning. So he filled a glass with some water and got a pack of aspirin, then wondered back through to Molly's room and put them on her bedside cabinet.

He had planned to leave straight away, but when he saw her face so full of innocence and peace he was mesmerized. He realised why he wanted to do all these things for her, why he hated when she sounded sad. She was beautiful, smart and kind. How had he missed this? He thought quietly to himself. His scientific brain could come up with no other alternative; he was drawn to this woman. After another 10 minutes of watching Molly sleep soundly he pulled himself up and set off for 221B.

But he decided very quickly that he would have to go back tomorrow, just to check up on her of course.

well that is it :) again a reminder a review would be really nice :) - Kat.