A/N: I'm going to apologize for the poorer quality of this chapter. I wrote the first chapter during a free afternoon, and this one later that night. My writing abilities significantly decrease the later it gets. Yet this was the first time I got around to editing it, and I didn't have the energy to change much. Enjoy!

"You are infinitely more interesting than anyone else I've met."

That one simple phrase: those ten, beautiful words were wreaking havoc on Molly Hooper's mind.

For once, she didn't mind her evening commute. She was oblivious to the cold, drizzling rain that often permeated England in early November. She wasn't impatiently tapping a foot – tired from standing all day – while she waited for the metro. She even didn't complain when an older gentleman sloshed a half-cup of his coffee onto her blouse from the jostling of the train. Mostly.

By the time she reached her apartment, keys jangling loosely in her left hand, Molly felt entirely too fuzzy and wonderstruck by Sherlock's words. She stepped into the tiny foyer. Minutes later she was curled up in front of the television, wearing her warmest pair of pajamas, with a tall glass of red wine in her grasp.

She idly sipped at her drink while she speed-flipped through the channels, hoping something would catch her eye. After dutifully watching the news for a half hour, she gave up hope of being adequately distracted and let her mind dance back to the events that happened just hours ago.

"You are infinitely more interesting than anyone else I've met."

Molly had to repress a slightly hysterical giggle that was threatening to escape her slightly parted lips. Her free hand – the one not underneath Sherlock's warm palm – came up to cover her mouth. After a moment, she slowly lowered it back to the table. "You're joking." She eventually managed to say.

"I don't joke, Molly. Certainly not like you." Sherlock said, deadpan.

In her shock, she quickly withdrew her hand from beneath his and fixed him with a mediocre glare. She wasn't quite sure if she was capable of being truly angry with Sherlock Holmes. All she could do was pretend, to save some face. If she was being completely honest with herself, she wasn't even that awfully mad earlier when she slapped him. That was a reflex move. "Must you always say such mean things?"

Sherlock didn't acknowledge her question. He was resting his chin on the tips of his fingers again, staring at her. She wondered if she was ever going to get used to his eyes. "I have previously apologized for my atrocious behavior which in return caused for you to strike me across the face. I do concede now that calling you a whore simply because you wore high heels and a shorter dress with a bit of extra make-up was rather foolish of me." He was speaking rapidly. "However, the comment was not meant as an insult, merely a tool used to gauge your reaction. It has been duly noted." Molly looked at him carefully. Was there a hint of sarcasm in his last sentence?

"Ah – apology accepted." She looked around the room, stalling while she tried to think of something witty to say. "Thanks for explaining, well, you know." She internally cringed at her complete failure at flirting.

"Indeed." Sherlock stood up and flicked up the collar of his coat. He began to stride towards the exit.

Eyes wide, she scrambled up from her sitting position and hurried over to Sherlock. "Wait!" She almost reached out a hand to lay on his arm, but stopped herself. He was looking at her, rather impatiently. She swallowed and awkwardly fluttered her hands in the air. "Is – is that all?"

He looked momentarily surprised. "Yes, for now. I'll be in touch. Goodbye, Molly."

After the door closed in his wake, she walked back over to the table and let her hand drift across the surface. She cast a longing glance towards the direction in which Sherlock had just left, and sighed. "Bye."

Startled, Molly jerked herself awake. It took her a split second to realize her phone was ringing, and another to realize she had spilled her wine – both on her and the sofa cushions. She hurriedly set the glass down and, still dripping, went to hunt down her phone. "Bloody hell, what time is it?" She muttered.

After rooting around in her coat pocket, she located the damned thing and brought it to her ear. "Molly Hooper." Her voice was clipped, but still held traces of sleep in it.

"Good morning, Molly." Sherlock's voice wafted into her ear. Caught completely unaware, she frowned and pulled the phone away from her face. Her screen read that it was 2:08 AM.

"Sherlock? Why on Earth are you calling me so late? Has something happened?" He sounded entirely too chipper for such a late hour, and she was already wandering towards her room, ready to change into a pair of work clothes. Perhaps there was another murder.

"No, nothing of importance has happened. I simply wanted to call and wish you a good morning."

"Good morning? Sherlock, it's 2 AM!" Exasperated and exhausted, Molly flung the words at him.

"I see you already forgot our little chat from earlier." Did he sound amused? "I will simply say again: I'm studying you and your personality, your habits, quirks, et cetera."

"Yes, but…"

"This call was merely to evaluate how exactly you would handle your phone ringing at such a late hour. Lacking a bit of grace, I might say." If Molly had been confused moments ago, she was simply flummoxed now.

Her mind was clearing up a bit though, despite the complete oddity of the situation. The sleep was gone from the corners of her brain. In a rare flash of witty genius, she coyly said into the phone, "Why, Mr. Holmes, this is nothing more than a 2 AM social call, isn't it?"

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. She had an apology on her lips when his voice broke the quiet. "Your humor is improving. Goodnight."

Rather mollified, she slowly lowered her arm. She was about to press the "End" button when his voice, muffled by the distance, came through her phone. "Oh, and Molly?"

"Yes?"

"Don't forget about the wine." There was a soft click, and the line went dead.

I think I'm finally getting the grasp of how to format my stories properly on here. If anything seemed confusing or odd, that was my naivety... As I said previously though, reviews and critiques are always welcome!