A/N: Nothing like Sherlock to get the brain motivated 10 weeks into my Summer so y'know! Please enjoy!
Molly had adored Sherlock, completely and utterly adored the strange sociopath. She wanted him with her whole soul, mind and body. He insulted her far too often but like he was like a strange addiction; she itched for his solemn tone, ignoring the insulting remarks that he made sound like a statement.
Molly Hooper groaned as she watched him walk into her mortuary, another man in tow.
"Dr John Watson, Dr Molly Hooper." Holmes made a curt introduction, her eyes snapped to the new gentleman and she smiled but almost immediately they snapped back again, roving over her Sherlock. His high buttoned coats and scarves, barely any body part revealed, always modest, always hidden.
That's exactly what Sherlock Holmes was; he was hidden, an enigma, a mystery, something for her to solve and so far she hadn't. In the sensible recesses of her mind she told herself she never would solve him and that her infatuation was solely on the mysterious element of the man before her. There was a heady combination of chemicals rattling around her body whenever Sherlock Holmes was in the vicinity.
Molly Hooper believed herself in love; she'd dreamt of countless scenarios where Sherlock had revealed his soul to her, she dreamt of what she could reveal about Sherlock, not only through the pure physical side that she was desperate to have but also the mental side. To be the one that unravels the great Sherlock, reduce him to a mere human even for five minutes.
Of course there were soppier dreams; marriage love and babies but she knew that wasn't the true Sherlock, that was a fantasy the man didn't do those traditions.
Molly Hooper wasn't in love. She just simply adored him.