Molly was just finishing having breakfast when there was a knock at the door.
Impatient beating, ignoring the existence of the doorbell.
"Sherlock?" Molly wondered and went to open it.
She was right and as soon as she had pulled the door open wide enough, the man in the long coat strided in, leaving Molly staring at an empty spot in the corridor for a second as her brain analyzed what just happened.
"Good. You're awake." The man said, rubbing his hands together, looking around.
Molly suppressed a yawn. "What are you doing here, Sherlock? It's my day off."
He smirked. "I'm aware. That's why I came. I need your assistance on a case."
Molly's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh! Is John mad at you again?"
She could see a tinge of pink cover his cheeks, before he turned around and stepped into her kitchen. "Nope. He's just busy with Mary and the baby."
"Well I guess I could come. I didn't really have anything planned for today..." She pondered, closing her flat door and making her way into the kitchen, where she put her empty coffee mug in the sink.
"Excellent! We'll leave in five minutes. Get ready!" He grinned cheerfully and his whole face lit up like a Christmas tree.
Molly replied with a smile and dashed to her bedroom to change.
"Did John punch you in the face again?" Lestrade asked when he noticed Molly padding next to Sherlock.
"No. He's just busy." The detective replied and lifted the yellow police tape for Molly to walk under it. She muttered a quiet thanks and rearranged the bag on her shoulder, so it was on her back and she could use her hands more freely.
"Introduce us to our host, Greg! I'd like to get to know him a bit more throughly. You could even say inside out." Molly giggled and Lestrade forced back a laugh.
Sherlock had already walked towards the house and now called behind his back. "Don't make jokes, Molly."
Molly pouted and followed him.
The crime scene was bloody, so both Sherlock and Molly had to change into protective gear. Now the pathologist was kneeling on the soaked floor, examining the body. Her delicate fingers carefully lifted the cadaver's head, so the wound in his scull was more clear to see.
"Bashed in the head with a sharp-edged object," she told Sherlock, who was pacing behind her. "Umm... Judging by the rigor mortis and the decomposition I would say that he died about two days ago."
Sherlock waved his hands impatiently. "Yes yes. Go on! We know that already!"
"The head wound caused the death, looking at the amount of blood. But the body also has other cuts and bruises from a fight. You can see the sharp nail marks on his cheek, so I think it was a woman who he was fighting with."
The impatient detective huffed. "Moving on from the obvious, Molly, if you please."
She rose her eyebrow at him, asking for patience. "The strength of the fight injuries aren't strong and they didn't cause any serious damage. But the head wound is made with a really heavy thing. Make your guesses."
Sherlock had finally stopped pacing. "Two people? Ah yes! Of course."
Molly pushed herself up from the floor and stood next to him. They both looked at the body of the murdered man. Sherlock was deeply frowning, but Molly was holding back a smile.
After giving him some time to think, she coughed a bit. "It was his nephew and niece."
Slowly, like he didn't believe his ears, Sherlock turned his head to her, eyes wide. He didn't even need to ask. The question was written all over his face.
She let herself smile and pointed with her latex-gloved hand at a picture on the wall, where the familiar face of the deceased smiled together with a young woman and her twin brother.
"Look at her nails." Molly said and Sherlock looked. "You could see a bit of nail varnish in the cuts. It was black. Balance of probability says that it's her."
Sherlock managed to press out. "A lot of women wear black nail varnish."
Molly giggled. "Not so much as you think. But there is also the fact that the same twins are being searched by the police for killing my last week's autopsy. We had no clues who did it until Lestrade got an anonymous tip, which lead them to the right tracks. My guess is that our victim here is the anonymous."
Sherlock breathed in slowly to digest everything, looking for a crack in logic. "Nephew? Niece?"
"Obviously relatives by their looks. Different family names. Very close. I'd say cousins."
Sherlock blinked a few times, still staring at the picture. "Obvious," he repeated, looking a bit dumb-struck.
Sherlock was still deep in thought, only coming out of his haze to report everything to Lestrade. They had taken off the body suits and gloves and were now making their way out of the house. As they reached the police tape, Sherlock automatically lifted it up, to let Molly pass and stepped out from under it himself.
The woman didn't notice that he had stayed there and started walking towards the main road.
"Molly." She heard him say.
Molly turned. "What is it, Sherlock?"
Sherlock looked straight into her eyes and stepped closer. "You were wonderful today. Thank you."
She blushed, looking down at the pavement. "Thanks."
He touched her face with his hand and lifted it up. Molly's eyes widened.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Her heartbeat was loud in her ears as Sherlock bent closer, never losing eye contact, and pressed his lips on hers.
For a second everything was still. And then Molly's lips parted a little. That was a signal for Sherlock. He cradled her head with both of his hands and she grabbed the lapels of his coat to press herself against his firm chest. Their mouths moved in synchronization and Molly bit gently into Sherlock's lower lip, swiping the tip of her tongue over it.
She could feel him shiver a bit and she knew it wasn't the cold that was bothering him. It was the warmest day this year had seen so far.
The need for oxygen pulled them apart. They stayed just like that for a while: Sherlock holding Molly's head, her arms around his neck and their foreheads pressed together.
Sherlock's blue-green eyes with wide blown pupils shined and Molly's brown doe eyes were filled with so much love, it made the man weak at knees.
"Would you like some chips?" He smirked.
"I'd love to."