Thank you all for your reviews and comments, glad you're enjoying it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let's get on shall we.

Chapter 2

Molly sat on her own and glanced around the pub. It wasn't her favourite sort of place; it was full of thrusting, young, professional types all comparing salaries and their latest purchases or conquests; really not her type at all. After a couple of minutes she started to wonder if Sherlock would even come back. If it was Lestrade it could be a case and she wouldn't put it past him to leave without giving a moment's thought to the fact that he would be leaving her stranded.

Her concern must have shown on her face because the next thing she knew a guy sat down beside her and commented about how a pretty girl like her shouldn't be looking worried about anything and could he buy her a drink to cheer her up.

He was quite nice looking if not a little average. He was a little shorter and plumper than Sherlock with reddish hair starting to recede and brown eyes not dissimilar to her own but he had a nice smile and he seemed easy enough to talk to. She declined the offer of the drink but answered his questions when he asked if she were here alone or not.

'Well, I was with a friend but he's just ducked out for a bit. He should be coming back but I never quite know with him.'

'And is this guy your boyfriend?'

'God no, just a friend that's all.'

'Glad to hear it. I'd hate to have to walk away from you without your phone number at least.'

Molly blushed feeling flattered by his attentions. It had been a while since she'd been chatted up and she'd forgotten what a confidence booster it was.

'Are you sure you don't want another drink?'

She was about to give way and agree when a shadow loomed over her and she looked up to find a very angry looking Sherlock glaring at her erstwhile beau.

'I think perhaps you had better get back to your wife. Does she know you're out chatting up unsuspecting women whilst she's home looking after your child?'

The guy stood up looking shocked. 'How the fuck do you know about Mandy?'

Sherlock tilted his head. 'She's written all over you that's how. Though, hang on, no she's not your wife she's just your partner...so we can add commitment-phobe as well as unfaithful and liar to your list of attributes. Not much of a catch are you.'

The guy balled his hands and Molly stood hoping to stop Sherlock before he started a fight.

Instead the guy pointed at Molly and laughed. 'You know what...you can have the ugly little bitch. She looks like she's a frigid cunt anyway.'

At that, and without any warning, Sherlock punched him square in the jaw. The guy reeled back into a nearby group of drinkers before falling to the floor. Sherlock took Molly's hand and started to lead her quickly away from the scene. 'I suggest we go before we're thrown out...or worse the police are called. I'd hate for Lestrade to have to bail me out for a second time.'

As they emerged into the open air Molly glanced back over her shoulder, worried that the guy might follow them out looking for revenge. She barely noticed that she was still holding hands with Sherlock as they made their way down the High St before ducking into the next drinking establishment they came across.

This second place was more of an old fashioned local bar, the music was low key and the pub was occupied by mostly older working class guys many of whom were watching a football match on the large television which seemed to take pride of place on the wall to the right of the bar.

They made their way in and Sherlock ordered up two glasses of wine whilst Molly perched herself at his side on one of the bar stools as she tried to ignore how grubby the place was and how sticky the carpet had been under foot.

'Sherlock, I can't believe you hit him. What on earth came over you?'

He frowned and huffed. 'He called you ugly which you aren't and frigid which we both know you're not although I do concede that you do have a c...'

'Sherlock!' She stopped him before he finished the rest of that sentence and then hurriedly got her purse out as he made to pay. 'No, please let me. You don't have to buy all the drinks.'

He stood back and let her and she felt grateful that he treated her, as always, like his equal. There was no alpha male insistence that he be the one to buy the drinks.

She sat back down on her stool and sipped on her wine as she thought back over what he'd said and she soon felt a little confused.

'Hang on...what do you mean "we both know you're not frigid"?'

He glanced at her and just replied. 'Well, I have been in your flat Molly and even your bedroom when you've been at work. You know I have...we agreed I could use it as a bolt hole when I needed it.'

Her mind was still trying to figure it out though. 'Yes...but, that still doesn't explain that...oh!'

Her eyes widened as she looked at Sherlock in grim realisation. 'Please don't say you've been through my drawers in my bedroom.'

Now it was his turn to look confuse. 'Well you never said I couldn't.'

'I shouldn't have to say anything. Most people would know that there are areas that are private, where you shouldn't go snooping. But then you're not most people are you...oh God!'

'No I'm not but I don't know why you're so embarrassed, having a healthy sex drive is normal in today's culture and nothing to be ashamed of. Though...'

He broke off and she ventured a quick look at him. 'What?'

'Well I couldn't help but notice recently that you haven't had a partner in a while...a sexual partner that is. Why is that? You always used to be very regular in your habits whereas now...well, you seem a little frustrated.'

Molly downed the rest of her drink and indicated to the bar man that they needed a new round of drinks. She couldn't believe she was having THIS conversation with Sherlock and she needed considerably more alcohol than she'd had.

'For starters my sex life is none of your business..'

'I beg to differ.'

'What? Why?'

'Well you made it my business didn't you? I mean, I distinctly remember you telling me that you and...' He looked like his was scanning his memory banks '...Tom? were having a lot of sex. So, you see, you made it my business.'

Molly took a deep breath. 'I think we may have to agree to disagree on that point but anyway, I just don't want to get into another serious relationship...not after Tom and I'm not the type to go with a one night stand so...'

Sherlock bit his lip and frowned. 'I thought you finished with Tom?'

'I did.'

'In that case I still don't understand why you don't want another serious relationship.'

Molly wondered how exactly she could word this. The short answer was because of Sherlock...because she had realised that she couldn't marry another man whilst her feelings for Sherlock were still so strong, and embarking on another relationship just seemed pointless and cruel to both herself and whoever she dated. So, she didn't date anymore but her loneliness just seemed to get worse and worse hence she'd recently begun thinking about trying to date again...just casually.

Instead she turned tables on him. 'Enough of me, what about you why don't you date?'

As one of the bars patrons left Sherlock pulled the spare stool over and sat opposite Molly, his knees touching hers making her long to put her hands on his thighs and feel his lean muscles under her touch.

'In the past I considered relationships to be a distraction from my work. I didn't want the hassle of them.'

Molly felt that she was missing something in what he had said and then it occurred to her, he'd said in the past. 'And now?'

'Now Molly...now. Now I realise that maybe that viewpoint was too narrow. Now I've come to the conclusion that maybe life is too short for it to all be about work. I've had two brushes with death in the last six months once when I was shot and the second when I thought I was being sent on a fatal mission and it makes you think...makes you reflect on your life and what's important.'

He looked her in the eye and Molly found she couldn't look away, she was entranced by him.

'Molly, I have to ask. If it were me would you rethink your stance on being in a relationship?'

Molly looked at him in shock, not sure she had heard correctly. 'I...err...what made you ask that?'

He bit his bottom lip again and leant forward putting his hand on her bare thigh. He actually looked a little nervous which was a look she didn't see on his face very often. He let his thumb swirl in circles on her flesh and Molly had to swallow hard to try to control her bodies reaction to what was such a small action.

'I think you know why I asked that Molly. It's the same reason I came out tonight, the same reason I came to you the night before I jumped and the same reason I told you that you were the person who mattered the most to me when I returned. I've tried to fight my feelings for you Molly, thinking I had to put my work first, but the one thing that came to me after being shot and when I was being sent away was how much I regretted not following my heart.'

He moved away and brought his hand back to his drink and Molly could have moaned aloud at its loss.

'So tell me Molly. Is it too late for me?'

This was a moment she had fantasised about for years and now that it was playing out in front of her it didn't seem real.

As the silence stretched between them she saw his eyes narrow slightly and she knew he was trying to work out her answer and she wished he'd tell her if he saw it. She had wanted him for so long but now he was here and offering himself to her all she felt was fear. Fear that she wouldn't be good enough, fear that he'd get bored with her but then another fear kicked in...fear that he'd walk away and she'd never get this chance again.

It was that which spurred her into action. 'No, God no it's not too late.'

He seemed to exhale and his head bowed a little but when he looked back up he had the widest smile on his face. 'I don't know about you Molly but I don't want our first kiss to take place in this dump. Shall we leave?'

Molly just dumbly nodded her head wanting to pinch herself that this was really happening. Maybe she'd drunk more than she'd realised and she'd just wake up tomorrow with a hideous hangover and vague memories of a dream where Sherlock had expressed feelings for her.

She followed him out of the pub and watched as he hailed a cab before turning back to her and taking her hand. 'So, your place or mine?'

Ah ha, things are starting to hit up and move in the right direction. So whose place? Hers or his? Final chapter will be posted on Monday.