She was running late. Only throwing on the first outfit she saw, Molly was about to escape through the door until she ran right into Sherlock.
"Sorry can't talk; I'm late," she told him. "But you can help yourself to whatever."
"Not to worry, you're already on the clock," Sherlock smirked.
"What?" her brows furrowed in confusion.
"I clocked you in when I realized you weren't at the hospital yet and told Stamford I needed you on the case; which I do. Which is why you're coming with me today," he explained.
"You know, being your girlfriend has its perks," Molly teased. "Thank you." Sherlock smiled proudly but it quickly faltered as he processed her words.
"You make it sound like a chore to be my girlfriend," he frowned.
"I was just teasing, love," she smiled before kissing his cheek. "Let's solve a crime."
"Sherlock," Lestrade greeted with a nod. "And Molly, hello."
"Hi," she greeted cheerily. Her eyes averted to the back of the cop car at the potential suspect. "Is he…?"
"Nude? Yes, unfortunately," Lestrade finished.
"Okay," was all Molly could say as she followed Sherlock to examine the corpse.
"Blunt force trauma, obviously; possibly from a pipe," he muttered, crouching down to get a better look.
"Cinder block or a brick, maybe?" Molly suggested, gesturing to the reddish dust on the man's forehead.
"Brick dust," Sherlock confirmed. "Yet the murder weapon was not found anywhere near here."
"We haven't found any weapon," Lestrade informed them. "Our suspect here was found passed out by the body in the nude."
"Okay, so what do you need me for?" Sherlock asked.
"The thing is, he doesn't remember a thing," Lestrade replied. "How, when and why? Nothing."
"So, he's possibly being framed?" Molly questioned.
"Excellent, Molly, I'll make a detective out of you yet," Sherlock smiled proudly. She smirked with a playful roll of her eyes.
Later that evening, Sherlock and Molly were on the sofa in 221B, a box of pizza between them. She had finally convinced him to eat at least a little bit during his cases and he obliged willingly. He was typing away on his laptop while Molly flipped through the channels on the telly, a slice of pizza in her hand. She settled on watching The Graham Norton Show; the only late night talk show she ever truly watched.
Surprisingly enough, Sherlock had taken a second slice of pizza. Molly laughed at the jokes being made and his eyes flicked over to her in awe briefly before returning to the screen of his laptop.
"I love your laugh," he slipped out. She responded with a chaste kiss to his cheek, carefully leaning over the pizza. When they were both done eating for the night, she put the box on the half-cleared off kitchen table before returning to sit by him. She loved their companionable silence; how they could be perfectly content just being in each other's presence. Molly curled up by his side as he instinctively wrapped an arm around her.
Eventually, she fell asleep tucked against his side and Sherlock set the laptop aside to carefully scoop her up in his arms. He carried her into his bedroom and laid her down, covering her up with the duvet. Before leaving to finish his work, he pressed a light kiss to her forehead. It was four in the morning before Sherlock slid into bed beside her. Molly felt the bed dip with his added weight and turned to lay her head on his chest, her arms thrown around him haphazardly. He wrapped her up in his arms in return and she nuzzled her nose against his neck affectionately before settling back into sleep.