A/N: Many of you who follow me will recognize this story. I had published it awhile back, but decided to take it down, since I would not be continuing with the story. However, I have decided to repost it and continue on. If you once were following me or this story, I encourage you to continue to for future updates. God bless everyone!

I do not own Sherlock or the characters associated with the show. Sherlock belongs to BBC, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. All rights go to them.

Chapter One:

Molly yawned as she stood up from her desk. It had been a long day of autopsies and paperwork, and she was more than excited to be heading home. The prospect of a weekend free of work thrilled her. She intended to milk it for all it was worth. For two days, she would be hiding out in her flat, watching TV and reading her favorite novels. Toby would surely appreciate the cheerful company, as she hadn't exactly been thrilling to be around lately. It wasn't that she had any reason to be in a foul mood...it seemed to just appear and take up residence.

Grabbing her phone off the desk, she quickly made her way toward the morgue doors. She took a quick glance down at her phone, and decided that there was just enough time to grab some Chinese food for dinner. It had been almost a week since she had Chinese, and her growling stomach was looking forward to it.

Molly was almost to the doors when they suddenly swung open, and Sherlock Holmes strode in like he owned the place. It had been almost two weeks since she had last seen him, which was unusual. If he had a case to solve, which he usually did, then he was here at least some of the time. Not that she minded a break. Being Sherlock's pathologist was incredibly tiring sometimes.

Sherlock said a polite "hello" to Molly before getting ready to make his request. Instead, as he opened his mouth to speak, Molly spoke.

"No, you cannot see any bodies; No, you cannot have any body parts; and No, I will not get any equipment out for you. My shift is over, Sherlock, and I would like to go home."

He closed his mouth and stood there staring at her. She could tell from his facial expression that he was a little shocked, and a bit hurt, that Molly had refused him so quickly. And even though she was tired and hungry, she was not going to give into him this time. No matter how he tried to manipulate her.

"How do you know I came in for any of those things?" He asked presumptuously.

Molly let out a tired laugh. "What other reason could you possibly be here?"

Again, Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but closed it quickly. As he stood there looking at her, she felt a mix of emotions. She felt triumph (and a little bit smug) for being able to shut the great consulting detective up. She also felt anxious the longer he stared at her. Even though she had gotten over her initial schoolgirl crush on him, she still cared for him. So, when his gorgeous blue eyes bore into her own, she couldn't help but blush.

"Fine," He said, breaking his gaze from her. "It can wait until tomorrow."

Molly's eyes widened with surprise. "Seriously, that's it? No protesting, no demanding your own way."

Sherlock's eye squinted in frustration. "I'll have you know, Molly Hooper, I do none of those things."

She let out another laugh, louder this time. "Whatever you say, Sherlock. Anyway, I'll see you on Monday."

Molly moved forward to walk past him, but he surprised her by spinning on his heels, and getting to the door first. She smiled politely as he held the door open for her, and followed her down the hallway to the locker room. Any normal person would have expected him to continue on his own way, as she opened up the door, but Molly knew better. As she walked over to her locker, she could still sense Sherlock's presence behind her. Grabbing her purse and a few articles of clothing left behind, she turned around and sighed.

"You do know that this is a women's locker room, right? You cannot just come in here whenever you feel like it."

Sherlock smirked slightly before replying. "I can when I know the woman inside."

A deep red blush filled Molly's cheeks. "Yes...well..."

He shook his head and sighed. "Molly, you really have to do something about that stammering."

The blush from her face quickly vanished as frustration filled her mind. "I'll keep that in mind." She said curtly before brushing past him. It still amazed her that he could be so charming and yet so...so irritating at the same time.

Molly hadn't realized that he was still following her until she reached the entrance to St. Bart's. His voice behind her startled her, making her jump.

"You shouldn't be out walking in the middle of the night. Take a cab to get your Chinese and then go home."

She turned around, stunned that he could deduce that she wanted Chinese food. "How did you..."

He sighed. "It's quick simple, Molly. Your flat is that way, and you were walking in the opposite direction. In the exact direction of your favorite Chinese restaurant."

She rolled her eyes at his deduction. "Sherlock, I can take care of myself."

Before she could continue walking, she felt Sherlock's hands grab her shoulders and steer her toward a cab that was parked close to them. She shrunk slightly under his hands, startled by the contact. Each of his hands covered the entirety of each of her shoulders, and she felt like a mouse under the paws of a cat.

"I am well aware of your definition of taking care of yourself, and while I agree that you can to a point, I still believe you need to take a cab." He said, opening the door of the cab and gesturing for Molly to get it.

To her surprise, as she slid herself to the other side, Sherlock got in with her. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He said. "I'm taking a cab. I need to go in this direction anyway, and there is no point in me hailing another cab when there is a perfectly decent one right here."

Molly shrugged and turned to look out the window. Sometimes, just when she think's she truly knows and sees Sherlock Holmes, he does something strange.

Like offer to pay the cab fare.