It was just after midnight on Friday night, or Saturday morning, actually, when Dr. Molly Hooper was making her way up the stairs to her flat. She had been working the four to midnight shift all week long, and her body clock was completely messed up. On any other occasion at this hour, she would be looking forward to a good night's sleep, but tonight she was fully awake, and probably would be for hours. By the time her body adjusted, she would be back on the day shift, in all likelihood dozing through the first few hours of Monday morning. She was only mildly surprised when she heard her mobile signal an incoming text, as she knew of one person who would not hesitate to call at such an hour.

ON MY WAY. BE DRESSED AND READY TO GO IN FIVE MINUTES - SHERLOCK

I AM DRESSED, BUT I'M GOING NOWHERE - MOLLY

FOUR MINUTES! - SHERLOCK

The pathologist sighed, and resigned herself to an evening with the man she adored, probably perusing a crime scene she could definitely live without. She knew a lot of crime was committed under cover of darkness, when normal law-abiding people would rather be under covers, preferably with someone they cared about. But such was not her life, she knew, and she also knew that she would settle for these late night forays into London after dark if it meant spending time with Sherlock Holmes. So, three minutes later, Molly Hooper was climbing into the back of a cab to be whisked away to god knows where.

"So, Sherlock, who did what to whom, and where are we going?", she asked with a sigh as she settled onto the seat.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Molly. Please clarify your question."

"Is somebody dead? Injured? Kidnapped by aliens? What crime has been committed, and why me instead of John?"

"John is at home with his wife and infant daughter, as every responsible married man should be at this hour of the night. Or so he has informed my on myriad occasions."

"And?"

"And, unfortunately for me but perhaps fortunately for them, no one has been murdered, or assaulted, or even kidnapped, by aliens or other nefarious beings…"

"So, why are you dragging me out in the middle of the night?"

"I'm hungry!"

"You're never hungry, Sherlock!"

"You know, Dr. Hooper, you do tend to exaggerate a bit. Of course, I get hungry. And I calculated that you must be of the same persuasion, having just completed an eight hour shift, and having done so without taking a meal break due to the unfortunate demise of rather elderly set of twins in a murder/suicide pact…"

"How did you know about that?"

"Lestrade texted me the information. It did not require my personal intervention, as you had already ascertained all the pertinent facts. Well done, Molly, by the way. Another pathologist may well have missed the…"

"So, we're going out to eat? At this hour of the night? What's open besides pubs and fast food places?"

"Would you prefer a pub? Or fast food? I did have somewhere in mind, but…"

"No, no. Wherever you want." She glanced over at her companion, and noted quickly that he was, as usual, dressed as if he had just stepped from the pages of GQ, while she wore her customary baggy trousers and baggier jumper under a super baggy pea coat. "No place fancy, I hope. I'm hardly dressed…"

"I assure you, your attire will more than pass muster at the place I have in mind. You look very, uh, Molly, Molly!" Sherlock smiled gently at her.

"Uh, thanks?"

"You're quite welcome," the detective replied, and turned to look out the window of the cab. "We're almost there, in fact. It isn't really far from your place, just over a mile, I calculate. But the neighborhood is a bit rough. Ah, here we are." The cab pulled to a stop, and Sherlock paid the driver and helped Molly out onto a small dark street, where fully half of the street lights had been damaged, and the darkened doorways of the small houses managed to look threatening. The only light on the entire block came from a neon sign hanging on a shop on the corner, with words written in English and Chinese characters. A restaurant, as it turned out, open at all hours of the night in order, Molly suspected, to serve a rather select clientele of night crawlers. And when they went through the door, her suspicions were confirmed.

The detective had his hand on the small of the pathologist's back as he guided her to a secluded booth in the back. "This is my booth, Molly. I called ahead to tell Mr. Lee I would be arriving soon," he explained as he helped her slide into a seat, and turned to greet the elderly Chinese gentleman approaching from the kitchen.

"Mr. Holmes, long time, no see. Glad you are not dead yet. Is Dr. Watson not joining you tonight? It has been a while, has it not?"

"Dr. Watson is otherwise occupied with his wife and infant, Mr. Lee. May I present Dr. Molly Hooper."

The old man turned to greet Molly with a smile and a small bow, "Greetings, Dr. Hooper. So pleased to meet you. Mr. Holmes only before bring his friend Dr. Watson. So glad to see he has other friend. It is sad for man to have to eat alone, do you not think so?"

"I suppose so…" Molly said quietly, wondering what kind of response was expected.

"And you are much prettier than Dr. Watson!" The man now turned back to the tall detective. "And much more your type, I think, despite my nephews longings!" he giggled.

"Mr. Lee, I don't think my companion needs to hear about your nephew's 'longings'!"

But the old man was not to be stifled. "My nephew, Sun Yo, thinks Mr. Holmes is very pretty. Very pretty, indeed. And he can be very jealous, so I must return to kitchen to supervise the preparation of your meals. We do not want a repeat…"

"No, Mr. Lee, we certainly don't!" Sherlock shot the man a warning look, "I'll have the the shredded beef in spicy red sauce and Molly will have the sweet and sour chicken with pomegranate…"

"Ah, so you are the person for whom Mr. Holmes purchases this dish so often! He has told me you enjoy it, and I am so glad. It is a house specialty! I will make it myself for Mr. Holmes' special guest!" Mr. Lee then hurried off to his kitchen with a smile and a bow.

Molly leaned over to whisper into Sherlock's ear, almost distracted by his nearness and his scent, "Sherlock, why does he have to supervise his nephew? And a repeat of what?"

Sherlock looked a bit embarrassed as he spoke, "Well, there was this small incident on one of my visits here with John. John seems to think he was poisoned, although not lethally. He did spend a rather uncomfortable night back at the flat, and there was the small matter of Sun Yo's smirk as I helped John into a cab…"

Molly Hooper was laughing outright, while her companion turned a lovely shade of pink. "Well, you are quite pretty, Mr. Holmes. Perhaps I should make it plain to the kitchen staff that I will expect you to sample every dish put on this table!"

"Not necessary, I assure you. On our next visit, John and I brought along Lestrade, who flashed his badge and made a few comments about a health inspector acquaintance of his, and there have been no problems since."

Molly was still giggling a bit, "It certainly is a nice change to visit a restaurant where the staff thinks we're both pretty. Makes my day. Or night."

"I wouldn't call you 'pretty', Molly," Sherlock said, and Molly looked at him as if she expected some of his unwanted, and more than honest, assessments. "No, I'd call you 'lovely'. 'Beautiful' could be a bit accurate, also, but 'lovely' conveys a more warm, more human, quality."

"Sherlock…"

"We can continue this discussion later, Molly. Here comes our food," Sherlock said as he nodded toward Mr. Lee, who was smilingly carrying a large try from the kitchen, as a scowling face, which Molly could only guess belonged to his disappointed and jealous nephew, appeared peeking from the doorway.

"Sherlock, why did you text me tonight?"

"I told you, I was hungry." And he obviously was, judging by the amount of food he was scooping expertly into his mouth with the wooden chopsticks. "Also, I missed you," he slipped in a little too casually between bites.

"How could you miss me? We just saw each other yesterday." Molly asked.

"Lately, Dr. Hooper, I find that I miss you quite a bit. Time apart doesn't seem to matter. There have been occasions when I have missed you the moment I left your lab, or your flat."

"Sherlock, you're just missing John, having a roommate, almost constant companionship…"

"Nice try, Molly, but I am a grown man, emphasis on the 'man', and I know what it means to miss a woman on a constant basis. I do miss John, of course, but I do not have the constant craving for his presence underlying my every thought. And, no offense to Sun Yo and his inclinations, I do know what it feels like to desire woman's presence in my life, in my home, in my bed…"

"Sherlock, what the bloody hell are you saying?"

"For god's sake, Molly, I thought I was being perfectly clear! If anyone else had just made such a declaration, would you have had any doubt as to their meaning? Do I really seem that cold and inhuman to those around me?" Sherlock finished with a dejected sigh, "I'm not very good at this, amI?"

"Actually, you're doing quite well, Sherlock. I'm afraid it's me who's being a bit dense here! Maybe we should start over?" Molly sat straight up in her seat. "Sherlock, it was so nice of you to ask me to dinner this evening," she said with a warm smile, but couldn't resist adding with an additional giggle, "And don't you look pretty tonight!"

Sherlock, returning the smile, took her hand in his, and gazed at her with his beautiful blue-green eyes, eyes the color of an ocean in which Molly could very happily drown herself, said, "And you, my wonderful Molly, are lovely, as always." He held on to her hand for what seemed like a long time, until he finally spoke again. "Do you suppose we could have dessert back at your flat?"

"As always, Sherlock Holmes, you have managed to read my mind," Molly said as she leaned in closer for what she knew would be the first of many kisses to come. And it was a beauty!