Dr. Molly Hooper was definitely running late. It was usual for her to sleep in on Saturday mornings, followed by a lazy day of lounging in her pajamas, maybe some laundry, and a video on her telly in the evening. But she had somehow forgotten her luncheon date with Mary Watson, to be followed by a manicure and pedicure, and accompanied by lots of girl talk. Mary had begun her maternity leave, and was going stir crazy with John hovering about. Her cell phone had awakened her, not her alarm, as Mary texted her to say she'd be there any minute. She shrugged into a robe and hurried out to put on some coffee. She needed coffee. Desperately. She surveyed the living room. Throw pillows in disarray on her couch, crumbs and plates on the coffee table, wine glasses on floor. She picked up the glasses and plates and put them in the sink, quickly brushed up the crumbs, and decided that the room looked presentable. She was attending to the coffee as she heard Mary's knock.

"Sorry, I'm a wee bit early," Mary said apologetically, "But I had to get out of the flat. John has gone all broody. He never takes his eyes off me. He actually tried to convince me that he has always wanted a pedicure!"

"Not to worry. I've put on coffee – help yourself. I'll hop in the shower and be ready in a jiff. Given any thought to where we might have lunch?"

"I told John we were going to that fish and chips place near St. Bart's, so anywhere but there," Mary laughed.

Mrs. Watson poured herself a cup and glanced at the hard kitchen chairs. Deciding that she would be more comfortable on the couch, she moved some throw pillows to allow room for her now ample girth, and was startled by what she saw.

Shortly thereafter Molly exited her bedroom, looking forward now to a day of completely frivolous female camaraderie. Her eyes momentarily fell on the object in Mary's hands. She hoped she hadn't registered anything on her face, but went immediately into the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"Isn't this Sherlock's purple shirt?" Mary queried.

"Actually, it's aubergine!" Molly tried to imitate Sherlock's posh voice.

Mary looked suspicious. "He's always fancied himself in this shirt..."

Molly interrupted, "Sherlock fancies himself in everything!" They both giggled.

"Oh come now, Mary. He quite often wears a purple..."

"Aubergine", snotty accent from Mary.

"Purple shirt. You don't believe he has just one?"

"Well, John believes he wears it quite often to St. Bart's because he thinks you fancy him in it."

"Yes, well, we all know he's right by this time. That's been going on for years now," Molly sighed.

"My god, Molls, you didn't steal it, did you?"

Molly let out a good laugh at that one. "Of course not. I needed something to wear over my clothes when I paint my bathroom. I didn't want to ruin anything. So he gave me one of his old shirts. I suppose he gave me that one because he knows it's my favorite."

"How would he know that?"

"God, Mary, everybody knows that!"

Mary examined the shirt. No sign of wear, expensive material, beautifully tailored. Molly could see she was having trouble reconciling the fact that Sherlock would dispose of such a shirt so easily.

"It's missing quite a few buttons," Molly explained, as Mary continued her examination. "And you know Sherlock and his pursuit of sartorial excellence!"

"I wish some of that would rub off on John!" Mary conceded, then excused herself. "I must use your loo. The curse of late term pregnancy."

While Mary was occupied Molly surveyed the room, hurriedly bending down to pick up some small purple (aubergine) buttons which were scattered on the floor around the couch. She then reached for her mobile to send a desperate text.

YOU LEFT YOUR SHIRT. NOW YOU MUST BUY A NEW ONE – MH

I'LL JUST PICK IT UP TONIGHT - SH

NO TIME TO EXPLAIN . JUST DO IT - MH

WHY? - SH

DON'T COMPLAIN. YOU JUST HAVE TO BUY A SHIRT. I HAVE TO PAINT THE BATHROOM – MH