By the fourth text, Sherlock realized that Molly was very, very drunk.

He had been working on an experiment in the kitchen of Baker Street, peering through his microscope and taking notes on a piece of paper next to him on the table. When he'd heard the first text come in, he hadn't bothered to go fetch his phone from the sitting room. The second one, about ten minutes later, caused him to roll his eyes and stand up, stalking over to the phone and scooping it up. Opening up the text as he returned to his microscope, he stopped mid-stride when he read them.

happy anniversary to me. just me. always just me

i can't believe we ha a huge fight on our annivesary. He went home.

i can never do anything right, i'm sure this is my fault, too.

well, i guess you're never alone wit ha bottle of whine, are you. haha. i made a pun.

Sherlock stood for a moment, staring at his phone. Then, decision made, he hastily put away his sampling materials and grabbed his coat and scarf, heading down the stairs and out onto the street. Hailing a cab, he directed the driver to Molly's flat.

Molly answered the door after the third knock, leaning on the door and looking up at Sherlock. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun and she was wearing mismatched pyjamas. The bottoms were covered with drawings of cats and the top had coffee cups on it. She had her wine glass in her hand still, half empty.

"Oh, it's you." she said, opening the door wider for him to come in. "Come to watch me drown my sorrows?"

Sherlock let himself in, divesting himself of his coat and scarf before taking the wine glass out of Molly's hand. "Hey! That's mine!" she protested, stumbling after him as he made his way into the kitchen.

Putting the glass in the sink he got out a drinking glass and filled it with water and shoved it into her hands, which were reaching for her wine glass. She glared down at it and then glared up at Sherlock, but took a sip of it. "Fine."

Sherlock led her over to the sofa and sat her down next to him. She curled up against him. "Why are you here?"

"Because you seemed like you needed adult supervision." said Sherlock, nudging her hand to get her to take another drink of water.

"Right," said Molly, sipping the water. "So why didn't you send an adult?"

Sherlock chuckled at this, and took the water from her and set it down on the coffee table. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Because I'm beginning to think I don't actually know any adults. Except maybe Mycroft, and I was not sending Mycroft over here to make sure you didn't give yourself alcohol poisoning."

Molly thought the idea of Mycroft babysitting her while drunk was hilarious, and laughed and laughed. Sherlock watched her. Why did he feel so fiercely protective of Molly Hooper? Why did his heart race when her brown eyes lit up with laughter? Well, to be honest, he knew why, he'd known for a long, long time.

Once she stopped giggling, she looked up at him and found him watching her. "What?"

"I like seeing you laugh." Sherlock said, his voice low.

Molly smiled up at him, her drunkenness making her bold. "What else do you like seeing me do?"

Sherlock smiled down at her. "You're very drunk, Doctor Hooper. And engaged."

"Do you think I could possibly be sober enough not to think you're beautiful and amazing? Also, Tom's an ass."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "I suspect once you two make up you'll feel differently."

Molly sighed and reached for her water glass. "Suddenly being drunk isn't fun anymore."

Sherlock put an arm around her, snuggling her close to him as she sipped on her water. "Molly, you know neither of us are in the right place for...this."

Molly didn't answer this, staring into her water glass. After a few moments she looked up into his blue eyes. "The only ones responsible for that are us."

Sherlock looked away from her. "I know."

Molly finished her glass of water. "I should probably go to bed. Goodnight, Sherlock. Thank you for checking on me."

She made her way into the bathroom, and Sherlock could hear her brushing her teeth as he slowly collected his coat and scarf. He saw her go into her bedroom, and then he turned and let himself out of the flat, back out into the chilly February night. Turning to look back once, he whispered "Goodnight, my Molly" before flagging down a cab to take him home.

Notes: The season 3 timeline is wonky, but I decided that Molly and Tom started dating in February of 2013. That would make for a quick engagement by November of 2013, but this show seems to be full of quick engagements, so I ran with it. This story takes place in February of 2014 - before John and Mary's May wedding, during the time season 3 skipped over between TEH and TSoT. Originally planned as a one-shot, but I might fit in a few other encounters between Sherlock and Molly. The show left so much of 2014 unexplained, and what better use for this time than some sherlolly angst? :)

(Yes, I'm still planning on finishing up I Dream of Molly, but there's probably only one chapter of that left and I'm trying to decide where to end it. :P)