During Molly's final year at Uni, she fell for a dashing professor. But is he who he claims to be?

Molly stared at the ground, biting her lip in a desperate attempt to keep it from trembling. Her tears mixed with the muggy drizzle, a small blessing. Chaos surrounded them, medics shouting and more men in NSY jackets turning up by the carload.

'So, you're not actually a professor.' She peeked up at him, feeling every inch the idiot.

Sherlock took a deep breath, as though bracing himself. 'No.'

The word hung heavy between them as the flashing lights cut harsh shadows across their faces.

'And…' Her voice wavered tellingly. 'And what about us?'

His silence told her everything, even as her heart froze in her chest.

'Right. Okay.'

His feet shifted forward slightly. With gentle press of his lips to her temple and a breath across her cheek, she closed her eyes tightly as he murmured, 'Good-bye, Miss Hooper. And for what it is worth, I am sorry.'

She looked up just in time to see the tail of his long coat billow behind him as he slipped gracefully through the chaos into the shadows, a shorter, blond man rushing to catch up.

With all the strength she could muster in her heartbreak, she whispered, 'Good-bye, Sherlock Holmes.'

Six months later

'Come on, Molls! He's a fantastic guy, I know you'll like him!' Meena pleaded, pulling her 'pretty-please' face that never failed to bring Molly to her knees just to get her to stop. They were sitting in a small café near St. Bart's. Within the first week Molly began working there, Meena had practically wrangled her into an unlikely friendship. Where Meena was stunning, bubbly, and outgoing, Molly felt plain, awkward, and completely socially inept. But somehow their friendship worked perfectly.

Molly sighed and fiddled with her stirring spoon. 'Meena, please. I just—'

'You just want to sit at home and wallow about the guy who got away.' Meena huffed in frustration. 'Trevor will make you forget that lying bastard with one kiss. And after one night… woo!' She fanned herself dramatically.

Molly laughed at her friend's antics, but remained resolute. 'It's still a 'no.' I don't think it is right to get over one guy by getting under another.'

'You might rethink your position when you see Trevor in tight jeans,' Meena quipped, but thankfully dropped the subject.

Molly relaxed.

Six months gone and it was still painful to think on Sherlock Holmes, the bane of her love life, the lying detective who masqueraded as a professor, who stole her heart and used her obvious infatuation to his advantage. Granted, her acquiescence to him and his 'desire' to sneak around with her in the University's labs were instrumental to foiling a student's bomb plot. But that didn't soothe the sting of his deception.

Well, not much.

If she ever came across that man again, she'd slap him silly. Something she regretted not doing when his deception was revealed. But in the chaos and emotional upheaval of that night, the thought never crossed her mind.

But now… Well, now, she'd slap him so hard his face would be red for a week. That would teach him to manipulate her feelings. She wasn't some doe-eyed ninny. She would have helped had he been honest with her from the beginning. Instead, while she worked on her final doctorate research, he'd swept into her life as a visiting professor and courted her, using her rapidly growing feelings to get unlimited lab access.

The utter bastard.

She finished her coffee quickly as Meena exchanged overtly flirtatious looks with the cute barista behind the counter.

Molly shook her head in exasperation and stood to leave. 'I'll see you in the lab later, yeah?'

'Mmmm, not if I can convince that hunk of man to play hooky for the afternoon.' Meena rewarded his cheeky wink with a salacious smile.

Laughing, Molly grabbed her jacket and waved goodbye. As she made her way out onto the street she brushed past a blond man on his way in.

She hadn't gone more than a few steps when a voice called out to her.

'Miss Hooper? It is Molly Hooper, isn't it?'

Molly stopped in her path, turning around to find the blond man staring at her in confused surprise, standing in the doorway of the café.

'It's 'Doctor,' actually.' Stepping out of the way of the walking crowd, she frowned at the man. 'Do I know you?'

'It is you! You were there. At the university that night.'

Molly's eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. She immediately turned away and began rushing down the street.

'Hey, wait! No, that's not… wait!'

Molly ignored his calls. Glancing behind her, she could see him staring after her in bewilderment. He seemed genuinely confused. But she learned the hard way to look past a kind face and a harmless-looking, somewhat tacky jumper. He was most likely a reporter trying to get an inside scoop at a very down-played bomb plot, something the media had been trying to get to the bottom of since that night.

Well, I won't be the idiot who opens her big mouth.

Several Weeks Later

It was a common sight to see Detective Inspector Lestrade in the morgue and he and Molly had developed an easy rapport. On this particular day, they were bent over the body of a possible mugging victim. In the midst of Molly's preliminary examination, the doors to the morgue flew open.

Without looking up, Molly called out to whoever entered, 'I'll be with you in a mo.'

Suddenly, a shadow fell across the body.

'I said-' Whatever else she was going to say was choked as she lifted her head and came face to face with the very person she'd spent six months trying to forget.

'Oh, right. Molly, this is Sherlock Holmes. He's being brought in as a consultant for this case. Usually around more often, but he's been undercover in the States since the spring.' Lestrade introduced them, oblivious to the sudden paling of Molly's face and the fierce look on Sherlock's.

'Ahem.'

Molly flinched at the sound, breaking her eyes away from Sherlock's intense gaze to see a shorter, blond man standing a couple feet behind him.

'And that's his… assistant, Doctor John Watson.'

'Assistant?' The blond man, John, seemed almost offended. But he shook it off and extended a hand and a smile to Molly. In a surprised daze, she lifted her hand, before noticing she was still wearing gloves and swiftly pulling it back with an apologetic smile. The man looked awfully familiar. But she didn't have time to think on it before Sherlock was rattling off a plethora of deductions about the body between them, leaning down to examine the body closely.

'Twenty-something, bleached blonde hair, hand-me-downs or thrift store buys, no sign of regular jewelry, fingernails somewhat jagged.'

He straightened and locked eyes with Molly once more. 'Not a mugging victim. She had nothing of value on her and nothing to indicate she was wealthy in any manner. No, it was definitely the brother, as I told you before, Graham.'

'It's Greg,' Lestrade grumbled. 'And I wasn't about to interrogate someone until we were sure it was personal.'

Sherlock sighed as though burdened. 'And now that we've wasted valuable time, he has gotten a head start on his escape. Better scurry off and catch him.'

Lestrade cursed, more at Sherlock than the situation, and ran off.

Molly cleared her throat as Sherlock returned his full attention to her. Anger burned through her. How could he stand there and stare indifferently at her, as though he hadn't ripped out her heart and disappeared from her life, leaving her utterly wrecked. With as much fury as she could muster in her usually timid voice, she spat, 'Is there anything else, Mister Holmes? Or shall I pop out for some coffee and scones? I know how you like to be waited on while you work.'

He blinked at her, as though surprised.

'We apologize for taking up your time.' John stepped forward and pulled on Sherlock's arm. 'Come on, mate. It's time to leave.'

Molly caught a glimpse of an off-white jumper as the other doctor's jacket gaped. Put together with his face, she frowned. 'That was you in the café, wasn't it?'

Abandoning his attempt to pull Sherlock out the door, John smiled sheepishly and rubbed his neck. 'Yeah. Didn't really approach you very well, huh.'

She shrugged with a rueful smile. She tilted her head as she looked at him, remembering the man who followed Sherlock from the crime scene. Her heart sunk as she realized it was the same man. They were partners... together. 'So, you're…' Molly couldn't speak the words, but waved a hand between the two of them.

John looked horrified for a minute, then laughed. 'No, God no. Completely heterosexual, thank you very much.'

Molly blushed furiously in embarrassment. 'Sorry.' If Sherlock had been involved with this other man, it would definitely have helped heal her broken heart, knowing he left her because he wasn't interested in women, not because he wasn't interested in her.

She sighed inwardly. No such luck.

Sherlock continued to stare at her, no doubt deducing the past six months of stress-eating, crying fits, and dates that never measured up to him.

The three stood in awkward silence for several minutes while Molly began to prep for the autopsy, waiting for Sherlock to take the hint and leave.

'You're single.'

The tray of scalpels shook loudly in her hands when his voice broke through the silence. Swallowing thickly, she clenched her teeth. 'What of it?'

He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head in response.

'So,' John clapped his hands. He glanced between the two of them with a strange smile on his face. 'You're single. I'm heterosexual. And there's a movie playing at the cinema with two seats just waiting to be filled.' He winked at her as Sherlock's expression turned oddly serene. 'May I have the honor of your company?'

Blushing madly at the charming flirt, she smiled shyly. 'I'd love-'

'John,' Sherlock interrupted loudly, whirling about to face his friend, the tails of his coat billowing out behind him dramatically. 'If you recall, there is a perfectly lovely woman working at the clinic who has been waiting for you to make a move. I believe she is a far better candidate for your companionship than a pathologist.'

John smirked and shoved his hands into his pockets. 'I do believe you're correct, Sherlock. As usual. But then Doctor Hooper here would be without companionship tonight. And after I'd already invited her along.' He pretended to think for a moment. 'Perhaps Lestrade would be willing to double date. He's recently divorced and you seem to like him well enough, Doctor Hooper.'

'Unacceptable.' Sherlock sneered.

'And why is that, Sherlock?'

'If the two of you don't mind,' Molly interrupted, 'I'll pass on the movie. Thank you for the invitation. I trust you know the way out.' She couldn't help the biting tone as she slammed the tray down and willed back the rush of humiliation the conversation was eliciting. Right now, she wanted them out before she collapsed into tears.

With an apologetic smile, John finally managed to pull Sherlock away. The door swung shut on his 'buffering' face. No sooner had their footsteps faded than the tears flowed. He had looked dashing and capable, no sign of regret or hurt following the breakup of their faux relationship. And why should there be? He knew all along it wasn't real. I was the idiot who fell for it. For him.

Putting the body back into cold storage, she called her boss and as briefly as possible told him she was taking a sick day. The next pathologist on duty would do the autopsy. And Molly would go home and wallow into a bottle of wine.

She shook off her lab coat as she shouldered her way into the locker room. She jumped back in surprise, dropping it to the floor, when she saw Sherlock leaning against the lockers. Specifically, her locker.

Self-consciously, she brushed the tears from her cheeks and picked up her coat. 'What do you want?'

He straightened, a soft look on his normally stoic face. 'I wanted to speak with you.'

'And you thought the women's locker room was the ideal place for that conversation?' She snapped.

He didn't answer, but stepped closer. She stepped back in response, noticing the fleeting expression of hurt cross his face.

'I want to apologize.'

'Why?'

He frowned. ''Why' what?'

'Why do you want to apologize?' Molly crossed her arms and stared him down.

'Because,' he said slowly, his eyes darting around the room as though looking for the answer. 'I hurt you.'

'Yes, you did.' She focused on the anger she felt, pushing aside the sadness until she'd had her say. 'Do you know exactly what you did that hurt me?'

'I do. And I apologize.'

'Then say it.'

'I did.'

'No,' Molly snapped. 'Say exactly what you are sorry for. I want to know that you know what is was that you did that was wrong and hurtful.'

'I apologize… for…' He trailed off, unable to answer.

'For what, Sherlock?' Molly crossed the distance between them and prodded his chest harshly. 'For lying to me? For manipulating me? For abandoning me with no explanation? For thinking I wasn't good enough? For what?!' She shouted, all attempts at aloofness discarded as her fury peaked.

'For all of it.'

He spoke so softly, Molly nearly missed it. She blinked in surprise at the sudden dropping of his mask. His eyes were lined with sorrow, the cupid's bow lips she adored trembled almost imperceptibly, and tears filled his eyes. His hands hesitantly came to rest on her hips as he took a deep breath.

'I am sorry. For making you think that I abandoned you. For making you think you weren't good enough. I deceived you and manipulated you for my own purpose. But, at the end, I realized the feelings I pretended to have for you had begun to invade my mind. I believe the mind is greater than the heart, logic overruling sentiment. But suddenly, all my mind would think of was you. And it scared me. So I ran when everything came to light.'

Molly slowly rested her hands against his chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat under her fingertips. Her anger melted away, but the hurt remained.

'I would have addressed it sooner, but someone called in a favor and I found myself chasing a drug king pin across the state of Florida.' He chuckled at the memory before returning a solemn gaze to the pathologist he held in his arms.

Molly swallowed thickly and raised her eyes to his.

'I am sorry, Molly,' he breathed, leaning his forehead gently against hers. 'Please… forgive me?'

'Does this mean you- I don't want to assume…' Molly stammered, pulling away to look up at him uncertainly.

'This means that I will be spending an exorbitant amount of time trying to undo the hurt I've caused you.' He pressed a shy kiss to her temple. She closed her eyes at his touch, the open wound in her heart starting to stitch itself closed. In silence, he held her close, whispering words to ease her doubt. Slowly, she relaxed and wrapped her arms around his waist, fisting her hands in the fabric of his coat.

But when he ducked his head to kiss her properly, she pulled away from his embrace. He frowned and tried to pull her back.

A smile broke across her face and she stepped further from his reach.

'Uh-uh, Mister Holmes. After all, I barely know the real you. I'm not the kind of girl to kiss just anyone.' She enjoyed the way his eyes darkened at her teasing tone. She slipped around him and grabbed her bag from her locker. 'So if you want me…' She smiled sweetly as she backed her way to the door. '…you'll have to date me.'

He smirked as she slipped from the room. Relief washed over him at the second chance he'd been given.

'Very well, Doctor Hooper.' He chuckled to himself. 'Challenge accepted.'