It was two o'clock in the morning, and the bedroom had gone suddenly cold. Not cold, figuratively speaking, like in an old marriage struggling along to its inevitable demise, but physically cold. Molly Hooper hoped it wasn't her building's boiler acting up again, as it was the middle of February, and, while hardly the person with the inclination, or in fact, personal motivation to retire to her bed in sexy nightgowns, she equally did not relish the thought of sleeping in her anorak and three layers of woolen socks. She pulled the blanket up to cover her nose and mouth, hoping to capture whatever warmth her breath would provide, when she got the uneasy feeling that she was not alone.
Molly did not wish to alert her intruder to the fact that she was aware of his presence, so she slowly opened only one eye, trying to surreptitiously glance about the room. Her eye moved slowly until it finally alighted on a tall dark figure looming over her bed, his pale face catching what meager amount of moonlight entered through the open window.
"I hope that wasn't your idea of stealth, Molly. I assure you that I have been aware of your observation since you first moved your one eye in my direction in that disturbing fashion."
"Sherlock! You son of a bitch! What are you doing here? It must be two o'clock in the morning!"
"Two twenty-three, to be precise, Dr. Hooper. And I have come to share a rather disturbing observation…"
"You climbed in through the window? Why did you climb in through the window?"
"I had a bit of trouble with your front door lock. I am glad to see that you finally took my advice and purchased a much more secure lock, Molly, but it seems that I will now need to trouble you for a key…"
"A key! You're the reason I changed the lock, you git! And close the bloody window! It's freezing in here!"
"I hadn't noticed," Sherlock remarked as he moved to the window to shut it.
"Possibly because you're wearing a long wool coat. And a scarf. And gloves…"
"Would you like me to even the playing field then, Molly?" Sherlock rolled his eyes and removed his Belstaff. And scarf.
"Still in a suit coat, though," Molly snickered.
"Fine," he removed his jacket, and said, "I see your point now," as he approached the bed and grabbed hold of the duvet.
"Not on your life. You stand there and freeze until you explain just what in the name of hell is so important that you had to break in at two in the morning to tell me about it." Molly snuggled further down into her warm coverings, and snickered a bit at his discomfort.
"You wouldn't have treated me this way a couple of years ago, Dr. Hooper. You would have gone all red, and stuttery…"
"I don't think that's a word, Sherlock…"
"Why not? It got the point across, didn't it? It communicated my meaning, correct? That's really…"
"Anyway, 'stammery' sounds better, don't you think? And I wouldn't say 'red'. either. 'Pink' is a better choice. More flattering. Yes 'Pink and stammery' will do…"
Sherlock was beginning to seem a bit flummoxed. He much preferred this version of Molly Hooper to the overly shy and underly confident one of a few years before, but sometimes she had the strangest effect on him. He started to speak again, but was tripping over his words. "Dr. Hoop..er Molly, uh do try to pay attention to what I am saying. I want to say, to tell you…."
"Sherlock you're getting all red. And stuttery!"
"Molly, do you want to hear about my revelation, my epiphany, or what? I can just put my coat back on and leave, if you prefer."
Molly settled back onto her pillow with a sigh. "No, no, go right ahead. I'm sure it must be important to you if you came all the way over here to tell me about it." She sighed, managing to wordlessly convey the message, this better be good, you git!
"Molly, I have decided that I am not, indeed, a high functioning sociopath!"
"Really?", the pathologist replied with a tone bordering on boredom.
"You're not relieved? Surprised? Overjoyed?"
"Perhaps I would be, had I ever believed you were, indeed, a sociopath, Sherlock. High functioning or otherwise."
Sherlock had now maneuvered himself into a sitting position on the bed, his back to the headboard, and kicking off his shoes, as he moved his legs under the duvet in search of some warmth. "Perhaps you never believed it because it would imply something negative about yourself, Molly."
"And why is that?"
"Well, people would not perceive it to a wise decision to become so infatuated with a sociopath, would they?"
"But you're not a sociopath, Sherlock. Nobody, with the exception of yourself, ever believed you were. And I don't think even you believed it! It just sounded more dashing than admitting that you are a selfish, egotistical, arrogant, anti-social asshole!"
"It does have a better ring to it, doesn't it?", the detective sneered in response. "But surely some people bought it?"
"Not really. Remember, John and I are doctors. We have had some training in psychological disorders. We can tell the difference between sick and sickening!"
"Mrs. Hudson?"
"You joking, right. She thinks you're perfect! And gay."
"Lestrade?"
"Well, considering he knows you jumped off a building for him, I doubt whether he believes you're sociopathic, Sherlock. Crazy, maybe." She looked at him, shaking her head a bit. "Really, Sherlock, Moriarty, a real psychopathic genius, never believed you!"
"No one, then?"
"Well, you may have oversold Sally Donovan on the idea. She's taken it one step further, and believes you're a real psychopath, one step away from murder!"
"I may be tempted if she were offering up herself as my first victim!"
"Anyway, Sherlock, as it is almost three in the morning, and I would like to get some sleep this night, are you ever going to tell me what led you to this epiphany?"
"Of course. Sociopaths never fall in love. I am in love. Ergo, I am not a sociopath. Simple exercise in logic. I am simply surprised it took me so long to figure it out!"
"In love, Sherlock? Do I know the lucky, or perhaps the unlucky, lady?"
"Of course, Dr. Hooper! Who else would be worthy of my affections apart from a lovely woman kind enough, and foolish enough, to fall for a selfish, egotistical, arrogant, anti-social asshole masquerading as a high functioning sociopath? Now, will you let me further under these covers, or must I continue to freeze?"
Molly nestled into his chest as he pulled her closer, wishing for the first time that she was the type to wear sexy nightgowns to bed. Sherlock placed a large hand on the back of her small head, and brought her in for a rather long, and long overdue, kiss.
"The first thing in the morning, you must get me a key to your new lock, Molly. I could have killed myself climbing in that window!"
Molly Hooper, no longer as tired as she had been only moments earlier, muttered, "Well, maybe not the first thing, Sherlock!", just before she closed the gap once again between her lips and his.