A/N: Hey, guys. So, I can't really say how often these are going to come. I guess it's just going to be whenever the ideas pop into my head. But if it makes you feel any better, that's pretty often. Anyway, here's the first little one-shot. I hope you like it. And please, review! :)

At precisely 9:35, she received a bouquet of orange Gerber daisies. Not roses, daisies. Her favorite. She knew it was him, it had to be. She could hardly hide her surprise as she accepted them from the delivery boy. In fact, at first, she told the boy he had made a mistake and come to the wrong room. Then she had explained, yes, she was Molly Hooper. The boy handed them to her with an amused smile after that. "He said you'd act like that."

Molly set them on her desk, a goofy smile on her face. She searched through the flowers for a note, but found none.

"Molly, do you think - oh, are those from Sherlock?" Mary asked as she walked into the morgue.

"Well, there wasn't a note, but I assume so. They're my favorite. I've never told anyone that," she replied, a far off gleam in her eye when she finished.

"Well, isn't that nice of him. Looks like he finally did something right."

Molly smiled again, then paled. "Or something wrong," she corrected. Her mind went wild with the possibilities. "Oh my god, what if he set the flat on fire again?-"

"Again?"

"-Or what if he broke my mother's vase? I told him to be careful with that!"

"Molly-"

"Oh no...what if-Mary, what if he's changed his mind? What if this is his way of letting me down easy?"

"What?" Mary looked at her like she was insane. "Molly, why on earth would you think that? Any fool can see he's crazy about you, and I didn't even think that was possible when I first met him."

"Mary you don't understand. Sherlock doesn't do this. He doesn't send flowers. He doesn't do sweet, unless he's done something wrong or he's trying to apologize."

"Molly, he may not do that normally, but I'm sure he can pull his head out of his arse long enough to follow standard social practices."

Molly laughed somewhat, then calmed a bit. "I suppose you're right. I'm being silly, really, getting all worked up over some flowers."

"I understand you're confusion. Sherlock's a right strange bloke," Mary joked. "And the two of you just moved in together a few months ago. But Molly, he chose you. Think about that. Out of every woman he ever met, he never even felt anything until you."

Molly perked up a bit more at that. "The flowers really are lovely."

Mary just rolled her eyes. "Trust you to ignore what I just said and talk about the flowers. Anyway, I came to ask if we could cancel our lunch plans. John wants to take me out for lunch today. I hope that's alright," she said anxiously.

Molly smiled brightly, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Of course that's fine! You go have fun, you deserve it. And tell John I said hello, would you?"

"Oh thank you, Molly. I will," Mary beamed, then promptly flitted out of the morgue doors. Molly felt the smile fall off her face as soon as the door closed. Of course she was happy for her friends, and of course she was happy with her relationship, but sometimes...she caught sight of the daisies and her smile quickly returned. It wasn't lunch out, but it was a start.

Exactly five minutes before her lunch break, another delivery boy arrived, carrying with him her favorite meal from her favorite chinese restaurant. She and Sherlock ordered out there quite often, as she rarely liked to cook and he...well he was rather useless in the kitchen.

Molly normally brought her lunch and ate it down in the morgue. She disliked the canteen food and only ate it on desperate occasions. She smiled at the gesture. She wondered if he would be joining her, but she supposed if he was, he would have delivered the meal himself. Still, it was sweet.

Then, exactly ten minutes before her lunch break ended, there was a knock on the door.

"Delivery for a Doctor Hooper."

What now?

"Yes, that's me," Molly replied, walking over to the man.

"Here you go," he said, handed her a small package. He walked out quickly after that, but she didn't notice as she examined the parcel. It was about the size of a brick, but rather light. She opened it up cautiously, but started laughing once she found what was inside.

Inside was a giant, Hershey Kiss encased in a plastic box. Again, as with the flowers, she searched the box and the packaging for a note, but come up empty.

"Ugh, Sherlock! What are you up to?"

At 4:30, Mary came in again.

"I was given strict instructions to come in at this time and give you this."

She thrust her hands toward Molly. The pathologist looked down and laughed at the sight before her. In the young nurse's hands was a small, plush teddy bear. She took him gently, noticing how soft he was.

"You thought he couldn't be sweet. You've gotten flowers and a bear," Mary taunted.

"And lunch and chocolate," Molly admitted smugly.

"What? When did this happen?"

Molly giggled happily. "On my lunch break. He sent my favorite meal from that chinese place we eat at all the time. Then just before it was over, I got a giant chocolate kiss."

"Well damn, you're boyfriend's doing better than mine," Mary grumbled, but Molly could hear her teasing tone.

"I can't say I'm not surprised, but it's a good one."

At 6:15, Molly unlocked the door to 221B Baker street with extreme haste. She couldn't wait to see Sherlock. After everything he had done today...well, let's just say he would be getting a very R-rated thank you.

However, when she opened the door, she didn't see him as she expected.

"Sherlock?"

There was only silence. She took off her shoes and hung her coat up as usual. There was no case, or John would be with him, so he should be home. There was suddenly a loud clang in the kitchen followed by a deep, "Damnit!"

She rushed in the direction if the noise and was met with quite a sight. Standing beside the stove, armed with a ladle and speckled in marinara sauce was her boyfriend, and he was glaring at a pot of noodles as if they were the spawn of the devil.

"Sherlock?"

At the sound of her voice, he broke the staring contest with the noodles and looked up at her, his eyes wide.

"M-molly. What are you doing home so early?" he stuttered, his voice squeaking adorably. Molly smiled slightly.

"It's 6:15. I always get home at this time," she answered slowly. He blinked.

"Right, of course."

She didn't respond and he just looked over to the cabinet, not explaining his current situation or making any attempt to fix it. After a few minutes, Molly grew too amused.

"Sherlock?" She was unable to hide her smile now.

"Hm?" He looked back to her.

"Do you mind telling me exactly what's going on here?"

"Oh, that. Well, you see, I, um, I'm working on a case. A man was killed while fixing his dinner. I thought it best to recreate the scene."

Molly swallowed her giggles. "And did the man give his pasta a death stare?" she asked with a straight face.

Sherlock looked at her confidently as if he was about to answer her with an affirmative, but then she raised her eyebrow and his face fell.

"I was trying to make spaghetti for you," he confessed. Her amusement dissolved immediately as her heart melted.

"Sherlock-"

"It's not as easy as they make it seem! First the water takes too long to boil -"

"Sherlock," Molly tried again, walking over and turning off the stove.

"And then the pasta doesn't cook thoroughly-"

"Sherlock." She hopped up on the counter directly in front of him as he continued to rant.

"And don't get me started on the sauce. If the stove is on too high it starts popping everywhere and hits you-"

"Sherlock!"

He stopped talking suddenly and he looked at her.

"It's okay," she said with a soft smile. He returned her smile before moving to stand between her legs and leaning down to steal a brief kiss.

"You look beautiful, by the way," he murmured, resting his forehead against hers. He really could be so sweet sometimes. She had a sudden idea, and she steeled herself for it.

"Thank you. Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"I'm hungry."

He looked up, his face somewhat dismayed. "I know, I'm sorry. We can order in, or if you want I can take you out. I'm sure we can still get reservat-"

"Sherlock."

"What, Molly?" His tone was a bit exasperated, probably a combination of frustration at himself for letting her down and then being interrupted. His thoughts flew out the window, though, with what she did next.

Suddenly, she gripped his shirt in her fist and leaned up to whisper in his ear.

"I'm not hungry for food, Sherlock."

Sherlock swallowed. "Well then, let's have dinner," he whispered huskily before smashing his lips against hers. She promptly wrapped her legs around his waist as he lifted her from the counter. As he was carrying her to the bedroom, he pulled away from her mouth long enough to say one thing.

"Molly?"

"Mm?"

"Happy Valentine's Day."