So, I'm dedicating this fic to my bestest friend, lilsherlockian1975. Not only because she motivated me to keep writing this one, even supplying some dialogue to get me going with it again but because she is an endless source of friendship, humour and support. She is the 'wind beneath my wings' and yes I'm laughing as I write it and know she'll be laughing as she reads it.

Other than that I own nothing, I only wish I did.

Chapter 1

It was purely coincidence that they both ended up on the same train heading towards Edinburgh although if Molly had been thinking straight she would have remembered that Sherlock's stance was always that the universe was rarely so lazy.

She was on her way to visit her mum in Scotland and had treated herself to an old fashioned sleeper train as an belated Birthday present to herself. She had always had dreams of doing something like this ever since she had seen the 1970's Albert Finney film of Hercule Poirot solving the Murder on the Orient Express.

She'd been looking forward to it for weeks and had told just about everyone she knew and now here she was embarking on the journey which was normally a quick but boring flight. This was a slow train. They were setting off at five o'clock in the evening and weren't due to arrive in Edinburgh until nine the next day. There was a three course evening meal and breakfast included and it was all set to a 1920's backdrop with waiters in white breast coats with shiny brass buttons and guests wearing their best tuxedos and evening dresses.

Molly glanced down at her gown encased in a black dress bag. She couldn't wait to put it on. She had arrived thirty minutes early and was already in her cabin admiring the lush decor; all brocade fabrics and polished wood complete with a tiny cupboard which opened up to reveal a mirror and basin.

The steward had advised her that he would come in during the meal and convert her seating area into a bed and she was excited about sleeping in between the lush cotton sheets on a train chugging its way through the wintry countryside.

As the hour approached five o'clock Molly opened the window in the door to the platform and lent out watching the final few passengers boarding the train, the guard glanced at his watch and pulled a whistle out of his pocket. At exactly five and with all the doors shut he let out a shrill blast; with the steam engine at the front letting out a responding toot and Molly grinned to herself. It really was as though she were part of a film, living the dream for once rather than being a bystander. All she needed now was a mysterious stranger to fall in love with.

The next thing she saw blew that completely out of the water as she witnessed Sherlock running down the platform glancing in the windows as he went. The guard held out his arm to stop him even as the train started to pull slowly away.

Sherlock shouted something at the man and held up a leather bound card and then he was running again. It was then that his eyes locked with Molly's and she heard him shout, 'the door, Molly, the door.'

She jumped in shock before turning the handle and holding it open for him, feeling a frisson of fear as she saw how fast the train was starting to go; but then his hand was on the door frame and he was heaving himself into the cabin and slamming the door too behind him.

His momentum carried him forwards into Molly and before she knew what was happening she was lying flat on her back on the chairs with Sherlock lying, panting on top of her.

As he pulled himself back upright, straightening his hair with one hand, he turned to Molly and held out a hand helping her to sit back up.

'Thank you Molly, I'm not sure I would have got on board without your help.'

Molly felt sure her mouth was goldfishing open and shut as she stared at the face of the unrequited love of her life. 'What the hell are you doing here?'

'Well, that's not a particularly nice greeting Molly. Aren't you glad to see me?'

'I...that is...I'm sure you're not here to see me so why Sherlock? Why are you here... of all places?'

'Fine, maybe you're right. I was chasing a diamond thief, I managed to follow him to the station and saw him boarding the train. Luckily I had Lestrade's ID on me otherwise the guard would have stopped me and I would have lost him. As it is I have no idea where he might be but all we need to do is trace him and make sure he doesn't leave. Now where is this train heading and what's the next stop?' He asked as he pulled his phone out, huffing as he held it up in the hope of picking up a signal.

'We're on our way to Edinburgh.'

'Great...and the next stop is?' He circled his hand indicating for Molly to continue.

'That's it, there is no stop. It's the slow train to Edinburgh and there are no other stops. Looks like you're stuck.'

It was then that he seemed to take in his surroundings and looked around and then back at Molly before narrowing his eyes.

'So, I'm assuming you're on your way to your mothers for a visit no doubt,' he said the word visit as though it were something abhorrent, 'and what, you're indulging a childhood dream about train travel. Your obviously alone, isn't that a little sad?'

Molly pulled herself upright feeling a sting of hurt which was more to do with the accuracy of his deduction than anything else, 'what I do is none of your business Sherlock. Maybe you should just leave.'

He tapped on his phone having picked up a signal, 'nonsense Molly this is perfect. We can just act as though we are a couple and keep an eye out for my miscreant. Lestrade can then meet us in Scotland and arrest him. It's perfect.'

Molly frowned, 'well it doesn't sound perfect to me. Where are you going to stay, what are you going to wear?' Though even as she said the latter she took in his expensive and very well fitted black suit and pristine white shirt and just knew that he could fit in anywhere.

'I'll stay here with you and wear this, I'm sure I'll be fine.'

Just then there was a knock on the door and Sherlock stood up glancing behind the pulled down black blind at their visitor. He followed that up by opening the door.

'Good evening Sir, Madam,' said the waiter who was pulling a trolley behind him. 'Dinner will be served for yourselves at seven in dining car A. Would you like an aperitif in the meantime?'

'Yes, a bottle of white wine and make it a good one, my wife and I are celebrating our five year anniversary.' He handed over Molly's room card for payment and slipped the man some notes, 'listen. My wife's ex seems to be on the same train. I'm sure he just wants to make trouble for us. He's five ten, aged about thirty, white blond hair and a bit of a hair lip. You don't happen to have come across him have you?'

The waiter looked conspiratorially up and down the corridor and then back at Sherlock, 'I think I have. He's alone at the bar which is just beyond the dining cars. Do you want me to warn him off or anything?'

'No, no that's fine. He hasn't don't anything untoward yet but it'll be good to be kept informed of his movements. I don't want my wife upset. I'm sure you understand.'

'Yes, yes of course.' He glanced down at the money in his hand and raised an eyebrow as he looked back at Sherlock.

Sherlock palmed him some more and he smiled widely, 'you can count on me, and if there is anything else that you or Mrs Hooper would like please just ring the bell.'

He handed over the wine and glasses to Sherlock and then took his leave. Sherlock closed and then locked the door before putting the wine down onto the small drop down table in front of the seats.

'It appears our work here is limited. Wine?'

'Um...yes I suppose so. But...'

Sherlock handed her a glass, 'Molly stop worrying. It's a result. I've been after this guy for three days now and the case is pretty much closed. Lestrade has my text and is flying up to meet us so we may and well celebrate. Cheers.'

He clinked his glass against hers, took a sip and then sat down next to her. Given the size of the cabin there was no choice but to be rather 'up close and personal' and Molly realised she could smell the light shades of his cologne. When she looked at him he had lent his head against the head rest and had his eyes closed with a small smile playing on his lips.

It was then that she noticed just how gaunt he looked; his cheekbones standing out in sharp relief and the dark smudges under his eyes.

'Sherlock when did you last sleep or eat?'

'Hmm,' he lazily opened his eyes and focused on her causing her stomach to drop. 'Oh I don't know a couple of days ago. It's all a bit of a blur when I'm working. I'm sure John mentioned something about food yesterday but I was too busy.'

He lent forward slightly and licked his lips, 'so, what's on the menu for tonight Molly?'

For a split second Molly was so tempted to say, 'you.' He looked delectable, as ever. It didn't seem fair that he should look so good. She always felt scruffy and unkempt next to him. Which reminded her she needed to get ready.

She said as much to Sherlock as she stood up expecting him to vacate the cabin but instead he stretched out on his side over her seating area and closed his eyes, 'go ahead. I won't look, I promise, no matter how much I'm tempted. Wake me at six thirty and we can go down to the bar and check on our erstwhile thief.'

Molly blushed at the thought of getting changed in a small, enclosed space with Sherlock lying less than two feet away but he soon seemed genuinely asleep, his breathing patterns evening out and his mouth open ever so slightly. She took another sip of her wine and closed her eyes sighing heavily before turning to her bag and starting to unpack.

An hour later and Molly was dressed in a floor length claret coloured, chiffon gown with beading around the waist, bodice and straps. She had a wrap to go with it if she needed it but trying to change in a small space without waking Sherlock had made her quite hot and bothered. Not to mention she could have sworn it felt as though he were watching her but every time she looked round at him his eyes were shut and his face unchanged. It seemed it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

She was now stood in front of the mirror applying her make up after putting her hair up into a simple chignon. She had to admit she was happy with how she looked. She knew she would never be classed as a beauty but she was pretty when she made an effort.

Just as she finished applying her lipstick she heard a faint groan from Sherlock. She glanced round and saw that he had twisted over on the seat so he was lying more on his back and his face looked as though he might be having some kind of nightmare. Even as she made her way over to him he groaned again and flung his head back as though in some kind of agony.

She put her hand out nervously, worrying about waking him, 'Sherlock,' she whispered.

'God...please...' Came his strangled response as his eyes squeezed even more shut, his forehead creasing; he looked to be in pain.

Worried she knelt down by his side and putting her hand on his shoulder she shook him, 'Sherlock.' This time she was louder and his eyes snapped open staring straight into hers. His pupils were so dilated she could only make out a thin band of silvery blue around the edge and she was caught unawares when he suddenly put one hand behind her head and pulled her too him for a bruising kiss.

Before she could even collect herself or pull away his tongue was in her mouth and other hand was on her waist pulling her onto him. She gave into him at first, shocked into submission but when she felt his hand move from her waist to her backside she pulled away, scrambling off him.

'Sherlock...please...'

He looked at her in confusion as though suddenly realising she was actually there and he sat up rubbing one hand over his face and pushing his hands through his curls making them stick up on end.

'I...I'm sorry Molly.' He looked up again and seemed to take her in for the first time. There was a moment of silence between them before he stood up, 'or maybe I'm not. You look...'

Molly found herself staring up at him now realising how close he was in the confined space. He brought one hand up and lightly twisted a tendril of hair around his finger. Then he shook his head and pulled back, 'I apologise Molly. I...maybe we should head to the bar. I don't know about you but I think I could do with a drink.'

He moved to the door and held it open, waiting for Molly to pick up her bag and wrap and exit before him.

And so it begins. It's only a short fic, just three chapters in total. I'll post again on Friday with the last one on Sunday. In the meantime let me know if you like the start.