Monday, 1:15 pm:

"Hold the elevator, please!"

Sherlock looked up and frowned. The small woman coming towards him carrying a tray full of vials was entirely too … cute? He pressed his lips together and quickly punched the 'close' button several times. He timed the response in his head as he let out a breath. She would need to take five more steps to reach the elevator but it would close on her fourth. He was saved! There was no way on this planet it was a good idea for him to share a confined space with someone who had inspired such sentimental drivel. Cute! What was wrong with him?

Her lips parted in surprise as she realized he wasn't going to hold the doors for her. They turned down in a pout and for some reason, he couldn't take his eyes off them as the door slid closed. He puffed a breath from his own lips. Thank God he'd avoided that!

Tuesday, 10:45 am:

"Hold the doors! Please! Oh, I'm in a hurry!"

That voice! It was too sweet. It made him think of scones with clotted cream and too much jam. He found himself looking at her mouth again as if there was something he could lick away …

Greg Lestrade looked quizzically at Sherlock as he jammed at the 'close' button.

"Wait, you're not going to let her in?"

"No, dear God, look at her!" Sherlock muttered with a flick of his fingers.

Greg glanced out of the elevator. "What? She's cute!"

"Exactly!"

Wednesday, 3:22 pm:

"You! You! I know you can see me in there. Hold the doors please!"

Sherlock danced back and forth on his feet. Even if he pressed the button right then, she'd still make it. He looked up at the ceiling in the lift. Now, he wasn't overly concerned with what most people thought about him, but for some reason, he did not want her to think he was the kind of lunatic who would escape out the roof hatch of a lift just to avoid sharing a ride with her. He exhaled a heavy breath. What to do?

Just as she stepped in, he spun out and away from the elevator. Her brow twisted up in confusion as this time, the doors shut but their positions were reversed.

Thursday, 9:31 am:

She stopped so suddenly that her ponytail swung forwards. She pursed her lips, waved a hand in his direction and turned on her heel.

"I'll catch the next one!" She called back over her shoulder.

Friday, 5:55 pm:

"Oh, Christ! You scared me!"

Sherlock glanced over to discover the diminutive lab technician who he'd been avoiding all week. He then looked quickly with eyes that felt a little too large for his skull at the elevator doors as they closed and trapped them together. Hell! He folded his arms behind his back. He couldn't talk to her because he knew that somewhere in the dusty, spare rooms of his mind palace, there was space for a new inhabitant.

"Um, hello," she said shyly. "I'm Molly Hooper, by the way. You're that consulting detective, right? Sherlock Holmes?"

He looked at her out of the corner of her eyes and then quickly looked away. He heard sweeping between his ears. Damn, his internal Mrs. Hudson was tidying!

"Stop it!" He muttered.

"What?" Molly asked. "I'm sorry, did I do something wrong? Have I offended you in some way?"

"Don't … don't apologize. It's irritating, I mean. It's irritating because it's not necessary. You haven't done anything wrong and yes, I am Sherlock Holmes."

He looked at her fully then because he couldn't resist anymore. The image of her in a ridiculously over sized lab coat burned into his mind. Molly Hooper. His mind-phantom Mrs. Hudson suppressed a smile and winked.

"Should I get her some biscuits to welcome her? Oh, it'll be so nice to have another woman in here. It gets to be an awful mess."