Could you help Sherlock with Her Nibs tonight? She's in her terrible 2s and been a disaster all week. - Mary

Molly let out a sigh, then shot off a quick "Sure" before getting up to take a shower. Thankfully, it'd been her day off and she'd spent the the whole time reading romance novels in her jimjams, restoring confidence in men who knew how to treat women. Except they were all fictional, weren't they?

She had been in a bad mood this week, and all because of Sherlock Holmes himself. Now she was going to have to spend an evening with the blasted man! Oh, why did she even care anyway? He was right, she was drab and boring and plain.

On Monday, though, she'd had enough. He made some offhand comment about the bright print of her shirt clashing with her skin tone and she finally blew up at him.

"Oh, you! I bet you can't pay me one honest compliment!" A flash of hurt, but then he stood up, grabbed his coat and left without a word. Molly was too angry to worry if she'd hurt his feelings. Would serve him right.

That night, she got a text, You're on. One week to fulfill bet. Winner declares their own reward. - SH

Molly shook her head as she hailed a taxi. She thought Sherlock would take it seriously, and he indeed showed up at Bart's everyday, but all he ever presented were insults.

On Tuesday, he told her how drab freckles could be. After she shooed him out the door, she attempted to cover hers, but even with the powder caked on they showed through.

On Wednesday, he remarked, with a charming smile, how unassuming her chest was. That she shouldn't be worried if she wasn't as curvaceous as other women. She slapped the grin off his face and pushed him out the door.

Thursday he mentioned, guardedly, that she was intimidating and solid, making her sound like a door supervisor at a nightclub! Her feelings must've shown plainly on her face, because he silently left the lab.

She paid the cabbie, and exited the taxi outside the Watson's flat. Yesterday, he'd started in on the unremarkableness of her brown eyes, and she had, once again, had enough. She quit the morgue before he could finish and took an early lunch.

He hadn't texted her all day, which was unusual in and of itself, but she figured he'd make some comment. Maybe he'd given up on the bet early.

Molly let herself into the flat with her spare key, stopping to listen for the sound of a temper tantrum from a precocious two year old. All she heard were Sherlock's own dulcet tones coming from Isabel's bedroom.

"It's time for bed now."

"But you haven't told the dwagon stowy yet"

He sighed heavily, "I'm not sure if I'm up to telling it tonight, Izzy."

"Pwease Unca Sherwock?"

Molly, standing outside the door now, heard the small laugh under his breath and could imagine the accompanying smile, "How can I say no to that? Now, settle in, because this is the absolute last story, then you have to go to bed. Ready? Good. Now…"

"Once Upon a Time, there was a great fire-breathing Dragon. His claws were like spears, his armor like tenfold shields. His teeth were sharp as swords, his wings a hurricane, and when he struck his tail, thunder crashed. He was ferocious indeed."

This time, Molly smiled at the voice Sherlock adopted to characterize the fierce Dragon.

"One day, as he flew high above the land, searching for more treasure to feed his dragon's hoard, he saw a small, but prosperous kingdom. He dove, swooping past commoners and nobility alike, revelling in their screams. He swerved up, landing on a parapet, feeling the loose stones beneath his talons. He turned, readying his fiery breath for the second pass, and that's when he saw her, the Princess, inside the castle. She stood in a silk-strewn bedroom, staring at him in defiance, straining against the pull of her mother to safety. The fire died in his throat."

He leaned closer for the next part, and spoke softer, but Molly could still hear him as he went on.

"Keep in mind, Isabel, that beauty is a construct based on childhood impressions, influences and role models. The Princess for instance, was petite, and slim. Her hair was plain, drab freckles dusted across her nose, and her eyes were just as brown and ordinary as her hair. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about her."

"The Tremendous Golden Dragon thought she was magnificent."

Molly quietly gasped behind her hand.

"Remember, as a dragon, he'd lived a long life. He'd seen many dazzling treasures, but the Princess was the most beautiful jewel he'd laid his fierce reptilian eyes on. She was sunshine, and he knew then and there he'd never feel complete without her."

"With the whip of his wings, the Dragon flew off and away from the castle, disappearing into the horizon."

"The next day, the Dragon changed into his human form, then travelled back to the castle he'd spared the day before. He had to see her again, even if it meant changing into something he despised."

"He found his Princess at the village church, wearing plain clothes, and teaching children how to read and write. He stood in the outer hallway, hidden from sight."

"She was gentle, yet firm. Understanding. His admiration grew. At the end, when the group was dismissed, the Dragon withdrew further, vanishing into the crowd in the outside market. He didn't notice her eyes catching his movement, watching him leave."

"Every day for a week he came, and every day he watched. Delivering food to the elderly and sick, mediating disputes. She would make a fine and capable ruler. The Great and Powerful Dragon slowly realized he was not good enough for her."

Molly's heartstrings thrummed in sympathy. Was this how he truly felt? She had it all wrong, all along.

"After his last day of reconnaissance, he retreated once more into the forest. This time, instead of camping out in a nearby cave, the Dragon pushed farther, toward an open space where he could safely change back into his ferocious, and horrific, natural form. The Princess could never love a dragon. So lost in his pitying thoughts, he did not hear the crunch of leaves behind him. Just before stepping out from the trees, the Princess spoke."

" "Please, stop. I know who you are," she cried, reaching for him."

"The Dragon, still human, turned toward her, "You shouldn't have followed me." "

"She persisted, "You're a bit like the King. My… my father. He's dead now, but…" "

" "Cease your babbling, Princess, and leave me be," he moved into the clearing. The fool woman followed him still."

" "He was cheerful to us, my mother and I, and the villagers. I saw him once, though, when he thought he was alone. He looked sad. You look sad, when you think no one can see you, Dragon." "

"He halted, now in the middle of the glade, and swiftly turned towards her, "You should've run when you had the chance, Princess." and with a howl he transformed. "I am the great Dragon! I can murder you here and now, and ravage your village and kill all the townsp -" "

"Would you believe she slapped him, Isabel? Twice."

Isabel giggled, and Molly bit her lip so they couldn't hear her laughter as well. She tasted the salt of her tears, and realized she must've been crying.

" "Quit your hollering. If you were going to kill us you would have done it a week ago, or any of the past several days you've been spying on me." "

"She took a long breath to recover the strong serenity he had come to love about her, then approached. "Why did you spare us, that day?" she asked, reaching out to stroke his face."

" "I could not harm you. You could see me." he breathed, not sure if he was dreaming."

" "I don't count." "

"The Dragon scoffed at the ridiculous statement, "You do you count; you are the singular thing that matters most to me in the world." "

"The Princess blushed very prettily, then leaned forward to place a single kiss on his snout. The End."

Molly walked forward, unable resist joining the scene..

Sherlock looked up at Molly as she entered the room. He hadn't even known she was watching him. Before he could saying anything, however, she shook her head slightly, then crossed to the toddler bed, leaning over to kiss Isabel's forehead. "Go to sleep now, dearheart."

"Okay Pwincess Molly," she yawned, turning onto her side.

Leaving the bedroom door open a crack so the light from the hallway could come through, they retired to the living room, sitting on opposite sides of the sofa as awkward silence fell.

"They were all compliments, then?" Molly was the first to speak, his brave girl. He felt his cheeks flush.

"Admittedly not very good ones, but… yes. I considered them compliments," he turned to her, hopefully, "How much did you hear?"

This time, Molly blushed, "All of it. So, I guess this means you won the bet. What do you claim as forfeit, Sir Dragon?"

He moved to the cushion next to hers, and leaned in, "A kiss, Princess, that is all."

"Then a kiss you shall have."

Mary Watson pressed send, then put her phone down.

"Who was that, then?" her husband asked.

"Oh, I was asking Molly to help Sherlock with Izzy tonight."

"Sherlock's never needed help babysitting, even when Iz's been at her worst. He just tells her the Dragon story and she's out like a light."

"Yes, but Sherlock has been having trouble with a certain Princess - I mean pathologist," she said with a wink, "all week. I thought I might help."

John grinned, "I'm married to a criminal mastermind."

"And don't you forget it."