Butt Slapping

It started out normally, as any other day would. Molly was at work, and John and Sherlock stopped by because Sherlock wanted to examine some body parts- something about testing the sustaining temperature of blood after death. Sherlock wasn't acting unusual at first- he stole away the microscope and Molly and John hurried around, handing him materials and listening to him babble on about blood cells and Lord knows what else. She liked listening to him talk-when he was focused, his voice had a deep and rythmic tone that, although it never made sense, was almost calming.

It did start out as a normal work day, until Sherlock decided to slap Molly's butt.

She was searching a cubbard for more test tubes to replace the broken ones, and Sherlock was going to get more coffee. She was searching through beakers and other supplies when she felt it, jumping at the completely unexpected touch. She heard Sherlock snicker before he walked out. What the bloody hell was that? Blinking rapidly, she retrieved the test tubes, laid them out on the table, and decided the best course of action was to ignore it. It was probably a mistake- he might've just bumped into her accidentaly. That must be it. Nothing at all.

She was content with acting like it never happened, and apperantly so was he. He waltzed back in with coffee, sat back down on the stool and peered into the microscope, continuing his scientific babble. Molly eventually settled back into work, almost forgetting about it, but the burning curiousity was still in the back of her mind. Sooner than later, it was almost one in the morning. Her eyes were drooping, her entire body begging for rest, but her mind was on fire. She was nearly on a breakthrough, she could feel it-

"You're exhausted. We should head out." Sherlock yawned and stood up. She blinked slowly and yawned as well.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Everything is to me. And yes." He smiled at her, a goofy half-smile of complete exhaustion. She smiled back and started helping him clean up. It took them a full twenty minutes to clean up all the samples of blood, the thermometers, test tubes, and not to mention getting the body back to the morgue. John had fallen asleep in the corner, perched up on a stool, his head resting on his shoulder. Molly thought it was kind of sweet, how peaceful it looked for him.

She was putting the beakers away on one of the taller shelves, trying not to think about- smack. Again, she jumped, almost dropping a beaker on him. Okay...um... Molly's brain was scrambled. She stepped down from the stool and decided to at least find out what is going on with your insane mind, Sherlock?!

"Sherlock Holmes, what was that?" She asked in a hushed tone. He looked up from returning a petri dish into a drawer.

"What?" He looked mildly confused.

"You just touched my butt!" She couldn't help but laugh a bit at how obsurd it was that he looked confused. It was no accident, clearly.

"Yes, I did." He raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that how men show affection nowadays?"

Molly couldn't believe her ears. There were many things she didn't understand; one, that Sherlock thought slapping a woman's ass was a perfectly normal form of flattery, two, that he was actually showing her "affection" or three, Sherlock Holmes just touched her butt. It was all so strange that she couldn't help but laugh.

"What's so funny? Isn't that how..." Sherlock was more confused with each moment passing, but after a while started laughing too. Soon they were both laughing hysterically at what had happened. "I'm sorry, I thought that was how men showed affection. 'Flirting', I think it's called." He said after the laughter died down a bit.

"It's fine, it's fine." Molly was still giggling. "Wait, you were trying to hit on me? Why?" Sherlock smirked a bit.

"Well why else would I? You're a great person. Interesting, brilliant, a perfect resource for any body parts I might need, and contrary to anyone's belief you're very, very pretty." He smiled when her eyes widened at his response. "Now, I'm exhausted and so are you, so as much as I'd like to keep pouring out emotions I've never had, I'll get to the point. I think it'd be in the best interest of science if we collected data in a one-on-one environment some time, as I'm sensing that's what you're leaning towards."

Molly was so shocked by the man's response that she barely noticed that he'd walked her all the way outside and even called her a cab. He opened the door and gently ushered her in.

"So I'll see you later then?"

Honestly, Molly was lucky she could even form words that made logical sense after all she'd heard, but somehow the words "Yeah, absolutely, I'll text you" seemed to escape her mouth. He smiled at her again and her heart halted. Sherlock shut the door.

"See you then, Molly Hooper." She heard him say before the cab drove off.