Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and story from BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

When Molly agreed to have coffee with Jim Moriarty, she didn't expect to have a follow up date. Sure, she was desperate for a man, and a damn good shag too, but Jim was no Sherlock.

Jim had met her, in the cafeteria at St. Bart's, with a big cheesy grin pasted on his face, and a stench that reeked of fruity hair gel. But he was sweet enough for buying her coffee, and complimenting her left and right. Molly was reluctant when Jim asked her to go to dinner at The Dragon. Even if it was the trendiest place in town, Molly still felt an attachment to her crush on Sherlock. It wasn't until she was walking back to her flat when she saw a cab cruise by with a laughing John Watson and Sherlock Holmes that she immediately changed her mind about the date. Jim was a man of sweet intentions after all.

It wouldn't hurt to give him a chance, she thought at the time.

—

Having been boyfriend-less for so long, Molly had no clothes to wear on her fancy dinner-date. Connie Prince said that girls like Molly should wear dark colours, but she banished the advice when she noticed a fabulous white cocktail dress for sale in a shop window. It was the very best that her small pay cheque could afford. The dress was slim, ran to her knees, and fit like a glove. She thought she might have killed the chance of dying alone before she realized that she was talking to her cat, Toby, while she was putting on earrings.

But even Toby, who was usually a good listener, was tired of Molly that evening. He retired to his bed where he curled up into a ball of fur and promptly fell asleep.

Molly hoped that Jim wouldn't tire of her that easily.

—

Jim stood waiting for her at her doorstep. A bouquet of roses extended from his right hand. He was dressed formally, although it looked as if he slept in his suit previously. Wrinkles marred the jacket, and his sky blue tie hung crookedly around his neck. But excusing the disheveled look, Molly accepted the bouquet. She made the mistake of inhaling the roses deeply, which caused her to sneeze uncontrollably for five minutes. Jim kindly offered her his handkerchief, a scrap of fabric made from blue silk and embroidered with tiny white skulls, which Molly took gratefully. However, when she tried to return it to Jim, her date looked appalled, but quickly forced a smile and shook his head.

After the minor incident, Jim still gallantly offered her his arm and led her to the waiting cab.

—

"You know what you're having?" A tall and busty waitress stood at a table, notepad whipped out.

"Um, I think I'll be having the foie gras to start," Molly ordered, "and a glass of red wine."

"And the gentleman?"

"I'll just have the Waldorf salad, please," Jim said, "and an appletini."

The waitress scribbled down their orders and left.

"Won't you be hungry just eating the salad?" Molly asked.

Jim winked. "Watching the waistline."

"But you're so skinny already!" In fact, Molly was sure that Jim had a smaller waist than she did.

Jim smiled demurely. "Do you think? Oh my god, I was sure that my diet wasn't working."

He looked around the restaurant before leaning in closer to Molly. She wasn't sure why, but Molly mirrored his action.

"Do you want to know my secret?" he asked with all seriousness.

Molly didn't want to, but out of politeness, she nodded anyway.

"I stopped eating bread months ago. The only things I've been eating for the past month are tofu and lettuce," Jim giggled, "and I've been downing appletinis like crazy."

"You look great," Molly assured him.

Jim smiled. "Thanks! And I think if you wore more make up, you would too!"

Molly wasn't sure what to make of that comment, but luckily, their drinks had arrived. She sipped her wine nervously as Jim cheered and shouted, "hurray!" at the sight of his appletini. There went her chances of getting lucky tonight.

"So, how's your job?" Jim asked after consuming his drink in one gulp.

"Oh, you know." Molly laughed, and waved her hand airily. Jim gave her a blank look.

"Boring," Molly said. "Working with dead bodies isn't very lively work."

Jim was decent enough to laugh at her pun. "You're so charming," he cooed affectionately.

Molly blushed.

Jim leaned into the table again. "Molly, you look so beautiful in this light."

Hang on; maybe my chances of being shagged aren't completely gone.

Molly leaned in the table as well. She had just closed her eyes and puckered her lips for a much anticipated kiss when she felt something wet on her lap. She opened her eyes and saw that her wine glass was empty. Molly glanced down and saw that her beautiful, new dress was soaked with red liquid.

"I'm so sorry!" Jim exclaimed.

Molly immediately grabbed her napkin and started dabbing at the wet spot.

"I didn't mean— I was just leaning in— my elbow," Jim stammered.

Molly laughed nervously. "It's alright, there's no harm done."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Molly," Jim continued, "I wouldn't be surprised if you never wanted to see me again."

"It's fine, Jim! Really, I'm not mad at all," she assured as she continued dabbing and wiping. She was feeling quite the contrary.

"If it makes you feel any better, I still think you look gorgeous— gigantic wine stain or not," Jim purred.

Molly forced a smiled onto her face, "Thank you."

She finally gave up on dabbing the stain since it looked like there was no hope. Instead, she spread her napkin on her lap and hoped that the stain was covered.

Their food arrived before Jim could make any more amends.

"Foie gras for the lady," announced the waitress, setting a plate down in front of Molly.

"And, the Waldorf salad for the gentleman."

After the waitress left, Molly immediately dug into her food. She was starving, having not eaten anything since a stale sandwich at St. Bart's during her lunch break, and she didn't care if it wasn't lady-like.

Instead of eating his food, Jim just sat in his chair, staring at Molly's meal in disgust.

"What?" Molly asked after she finally noticed that Jim wasn't eating.

"Do you know what foie gras is?"

Molly actually wasn't sure. She had ordered the dish a few times before, during dinner with her parents, but she wasn't exactly sure what kind of meat foie gras was made from. When she asked her parents, they just looked at each other and simultaneously answered goose.

Jim took her hesitation as uncertainty and took the chance to answer.

"It's fattened goose liver."

Molly shrugged. "It tastes fine."

"The geese are force fed until they die," Jim explained solemnly. "Animal cruelty is so not trendy."

Molly choked. It was lodged in her throat, and her wine glass was empty.

"Oh my god!" Jim started panicking when he realized what was happening.

Molly pounded on her chest before the meat finally dislodged… landing in Jim's salad.

"Sorry," she croaked while she tried to regain her breathe.

"It's… fine," Jim managed weakly. He quickly regained his composure and smiled at Molly.

Molly had lost her appetite, and since the waitress showed no intent of refilling her wine glass, she didn't feel the need to stay any longer.

"Do you want to call it a night?" Molly asked.

Jim looked relieved and nodded. He called for the cheque, and regardless of the terrible night, he left a fat tip.

They left the restaurant in a hurry, and the cold night air whipped Molly's hair forward. She spit the strands out of her mouth and struggled to find her face again as Jim failed to hail a cab.

—

The night ended back at Molly's flat. To be more precise, the front of it. They both stood on the concrete steps in front of the door of the tall building, and bid adieu. The wind made Molly shiver, especially since the wet wine spot was left in the cold open.

"Thank you for tonight," Molly said, teeth chattering.

"Thank you, Molly Hooper," Jim said.

Before Molly could react, Jim leaned in for a kiss.

It was a wet and sloppy kiss, lasting for at least 30 seconds. It was questionable whether Jim had experience before since the kiss was imprecise, landing on her upper lip before moving down to the correct place. He soon pulled away slowly, eyes still fluttering. Molly stifled a giggle when she noticed that her lipstick had rubbed off on his lips.

"Goodnight," he whispered before she had the chance to tell him about the lipstick.

"Goodnight, Jim,"

Molly pranced up to her flat after Jim had disappeared from sight— she had big news for Toby.

A/N:

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