Author's Note: I hope you enjoy the first chapter of my first Sherlock fanfic! It takes place after season three. Please review for the next chapter.

Disclaimer: These characters are not my own. This story is an extension to the wonderful Sherlock world.

Today I woke up earlier than usual with the distinct feeling that someone was in my room. Of course, when I opened my eyes, there was no one there. I looked around for any tells that someone had been there, but it all looked in order. I got out of bed and had another look, and that's when I saw it: the note under the bed.

It was only corner that could be seen. They were very careful to make sure only I would see it. If John or Mrs Hudson had been in my room, they wouldn't have noticed it.

The page had been ripped out of a book – one side containing the end of the chapter and the other side, where they wrote their note, was blank. I went to the lounge room and began looking through all of my books for the one missing page 12.

Mrs Hudson was there and she most likely said something mundane, doubtless a comment on my being up so early. John walked in and repeated the comment, then sat in his chair and waited for me to finish. It was nice that he finally understood when I was focussed, I was closed to everything else around me. I was getting tired of him complaining that I wasn't listening.

My tea was cold by the time I found the book – Great Expectations. Interesting.

The note had an address and a time on it – nothing more. The handwriting looked familiar, but it was obvious that the writer had tried to make it indiscernible. It was camouflaged enough that I couldn't match it to any of the samples in my mind palace.

I stood outside the Savoy at 18:00 UTC. Molly walked up to me and asked me if I wanted to get a drink.

"Not now, Molly," I said to her, "I'm waiting for somebody."

"Yeah, you're waiting for me," she responded. "Great Expectations? Page 12?"

I looked at her with a new light. Molly Hooper, sneaking into my room? Fascinating! Then it clicked – the flourished tale of the 'y', the right handed lean. It was Molly's handwriting in an attempted disguise.

I followed her inside to the bar. Molly ordered a wine and I ordered a tea, black. Her eyes darted around the room and her hands shook, but once she drank half of her glass of wine, her focus landed on me.

"I know you've got John," she said, "and I know I do help when you need in the morgue."

She gulped more wine.

"Go on," I said.

"I want to do more partner stuff with you. I want to help more."

"Molly-" I began, but she cut me off.

"No, listen. I liked helping you with your cases. I liked going to that train guy's house. I'm good at some things and I can help. I want to help."

I drank my tea and studied her. She held my gaze for about six seconds, but then her confidence started to wither away and the nervous girl was back. She smiled apologetically and tucked her hair behind her ear. I just noticed that she had left her hair out. It was obvious that she was presenting herself as a confident woman, but I thought she looked much better with her hair tied back. The power play did not work.

Still, I was impressed.

"Okay," I said.

"What?" Her eyes widened with disbelief.

"Okay."

She nodded and smiled, then repeated my response under her breath like she was making sure the word sounded the same out of her mouth, then smiled again. She could not stop smiling. I really wished she would. Though, it did make me smile just a little.

I finished my tea and left, giving her instructions to be at the apartment by 08:00 UTC. She was still smiling as I walked away.

I didn't tell John, though he could tell something had happened. He was getting quite peeved at me for holding it back. I wanted him to find out when Molly was there. They would have to work out on their own how they would both work with me.

I played my violin – I'm composing a new piece – and then retired to bed.

Until tomorrow.

SH