Work had dragged on particularly that day for Molly Hooper at St Bartholomew's Hospital. She went through the notions of packing up the body before her whilst staining her sleeve with blood and sighed. That was going to be hard to get off. Sherlock had arrived at her house early and convinced her to swap her day off (a decision which she soon regretted). Sherlock had leapt around the room for six hours studying what waspossibly the mud off shoes which might belong to one of Moriarty's henchmen. He ran countless tests, all of the usual ones Molly knew and then another trillion she'd never seen but in the end it turned out the mud was from a pair of boots belonging to Mrs Turner, leaving Sherlock bored and cranky. And a bored Sherlock was the worst sort.
When everything was cleaned, Molly wrapped herself back up in her fluffy scarf and coat, readying herself to leave. She stepped into the chilly cold London street and began briskly walking to her bus stop, bumping into someone accidentally. "Sorry," she muttered and was about to walk off when a familiar voice said "Just the person I was hoping to bump into."
Molly paused, looking up to see Greg Lestrade beaming down at her. He too was bundled in a coat and scarf with a nose particularly rosy. "Hi, Lestrade," She walked back to him and smiled warmly, "It's been a while. What bring you to see me?"
"Greg, please," he waved a hand as if it were a preposterous thought and gestured for them to duck out of the way of the home-bound workers who crowded the pavement, "I just wanted to check if you were alright. From what I heard through John, Sherlock was giving you a hard time today."
Molly smiled, that was awfully sweet of him. "Yeah, I'm good, really tired though. Today I wasn't rostered for work, but obviously that didn't happen."
"Sherlock sure is good at that," Greg sighed.
"Yeah," Molly agreed.
Greg turned to her, "Well it sounds like your day has been less than perfect so how about I buy you a coffee? Just down the road, I know the loveliest place."
"Coffee sounds great," Molly smiled. She knew she would miss her bus and she was absolutely exhausted but she tried to remember the last time she had done something to have fun and came up with nothing.
They walked down the street with hands shoved deep in their pockets and their faces flushed with cold. They walked past crowds of people making their ways home in the dying light and paused only for Molly to fish out an umbrella from her bag, holding it close between them so they both got half wet and not particularly dry but Molly enjoyed it anyway.
After a few blocks, Greg stopped and held open the door for Molly. She ducked into the tiny place and looked around. Pete's Patisserie was dim and a little cramped but not quite unpleasant. "What do you want? Don't worry about money, I'm paying," Greg sternly, leaving no room for argument. "And a word to the wise: this place has the best doughnuts."
"You like doughnuts?" Molly raised an eyebrow.
"I'm a policeman. I have to keep up with stereotypes," he grinned.
"Detective inspector," she corrected, "But as it's your level of expertise, I'll go with a chocolate-covered doughnut."
They sipped hot lattés, nibbled doughnuts (which were, Molly had to admit, the best she'd ever had) and talked in a corner of the small store. They discussed all things work, crime scenes and corpses, about life and the like and somehow hours swept away. Molly found herself enjoying it more than she thought she would, even the silences which should have been awkward were comfortable. She didn't want to admit it but something about the atmosphere felt awfully intimate.
Molly looked outside, taking a last swig of her second coffee and was startled. The café was empty apart from them and a bored waitress behind the counter and outside was pitch black. Molly checked the time display on her phone: 8:27.
"It's getting pretty late," Molly noted.
"How late?" Greg asked.
"Almost eight thirty."
"Really?" Molly nodded. "Hell, we should probably give this waitress some peace."
"It's okay. I get paid overtime for this." The waitress was standing beside Molly, ready to take their cups.
Greg paid and then they headed outside again to brave the harsh winds. Molly rubbed her hands together and buttoned up her jacket in the hopes of battling the that had taken over the rain.
"I should probably get a cab," Molly told Greg as they stood outside the shop.
"Nonsense, I'll drive you," Greg scoffed.
Molly frowned slightly, "Not if it's too much trouble. My house is just a couple of blocks away."
"Then it's settled," Greg smiled and headed back towards Bart's. He led her to a parking lot nearby and opened the passenger door of his shining Mazda for her. "After you," he grinned. Molly directed Lestrade to her street and to park near her flat. She didn't protest when he walked her to her door. Molly fished her keys from her bag but rather than slide them into the door, she turned back to Greg who stood patiently by her.
"Greg," she said, fidgeting with her keys, "Thank you-"
"It's nothing."
"No, thank you." Molly emphasised. She looked up at him, "Thanks for tonight. I've been having a bad couple of weeks, today especially. Well, really since I've been having problems with Tom."
"Are you two okay?" his voice was even but his eyes were perhaps less bright than before.
"That's just it, we're not really together anymore."
"Oh, God. Molly, are you okay?" He looked down with genuine concern.
"It took me a while but I'm over him now."
Greg smiled. "I'm glad. Well, I suppose I should be off, can't be keeping you up." Molly knew as she watched his retreating back that this was the part where Greg drove away and the next time she saw him it would be as if this had never happened. It would have been a once off, they'd never speak on any grounds other than work and part of Molly wasn't ready for that.
"Greg," she called. To her relief, he turned back to face her. She didn't know if she'd have the guts to call again if he hadn't. "Was this a date?" She said it flatly as it took all of her courage to say the words which had been bugging her all night.
Greg looked at her and took a few steps back to where he had stood. "If you like," he offered a sly grin.
They looked into each others eyes, they were barely inches apart. Gently, Molly leaned up and pressed her lips to his cheek. A brush fleeting and timid. "I would like that."
Then Greg leaned in and gave her a deeper kiss, one hand caressing her cheek and the other holding her close to him. Molly slid her hands around his neck and kissed him back, which felt 100 types of wonderful. She didn't think something like Detective Inspector Lestrade's lips on hers would feel so good but as their lips mashed together with graceless urgency, she couldn't think of anything better. "I'm glad," he muttered against her.
"Wait," she pulled back abruptly, causing him to start, "Aren't you married."
"Took care of that, we got divorced last October."
"Okay," she gave him one quick peck followed by a smirk. "Now go so I can get some sleep." Greg looked into her eyes, silently but not making any move to go. "To be continued," Molly promised.
After a few minutes and a few more kisses, he finally agreed. Molly stood by her door as she watched his retreating back once more and couldn't help but smile. She would have broken up with Tom a lot sooner if she knew a kiss could have been as good as that.