A/N: This is Chapter 2. This is my first published fic, and I'm unbetaed and unBritpicked. I hope you're all enjoying this story.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights and such belong to the BBC, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.


CHAPTER 2

The next day, classes began. Molly pulled on a short-sleeved brown blouse, a brown and green plaid skirt, and her only form of fashion rebellion: her hot pink Converse.

Mary had on jean shorts, a pretty blue tank top, and gladiator sandals.

"Come on, Molly! We're going to be late!"

"For a first period study hall?"

Mary chuckled. "I want as much time as possible to gossip!"

Molly sighed and grabbed her bag.


Molly and Mary were the only two "normal' people in this study hall, according to the chipper blonde. "Everyone else in this room is somehow freakish."

Molly bit her lip. "My, uh...my last...well the last guy I dated was a freak. He had a crazy plan for world domination and he ended up putting a gun in his mouth."

"Oh my God, Molly," Mary exclaimed. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."
"It's okay," Molly replied, waving Mary's comment off. "We all can't be Sherlock."

Poking Molly's arm, Mary whispered, "So, uh, any guys here catch your fancy? I know Greg's single."

Molly felt her cheeks flush. "Greg seems nice, but, um…"

Mary's jaw dropped and her eyes were like saucers. "Oh. My. God. No way!" The blonde squealed.

Molly flinched at the sound, and asked, "No way what?"

Mary lowered her voice. "You like Sherlock, don't you?"

Molly blushed even redder. "No! I mean...I don't…"

"Yes you so do! Admit it!" Finally, Molly nodded in defeat.

Mary squealed in delight. "This is so exciting! I'm going to fling you two together!"

Molly bit her lip. "It's really not worth it. I doubt Sherlock would even give me a second thought."

Mary shook her head. "I think he would. There's only one other person he's deduced like that, without making some snarky, embarrassing comment. That's John, and those two are thicker than thieves."

"Mary, he practically told the whole room that I'm a virgin, with little to no relationship experience. He is right. I've never even been kissed."

Mary wrapped an arm around the petite brunette's shoulders. "Sherlock has no room to talk. Sure, he had his thing with this girl, Irene, but I'm certain they only just reached first base, and I know for a fact that Sherlock's a virgin."

Just then, the bell rang.


Molly entered her Anatomy class. The prof, a young woman in her mid-thirties beamed when she entered. "You must be the new student, Molly Hooper."

Molly nodded. "I am."

"Have a seat." She indicated an empty desk.

Molly sat down, glad she sat alone. She didn't want to have to answer anyone's inane questions.

The class had just begun when the door opened. Molly didn't bother to look up.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes," the prof said. "Late. Take your seat by Miss Hooper."

Upon hearing her name, Molly lifted her head. "Oh great," Molly thought. Her partner was Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes.

"Afternoon, Molly." She merely nodded her greeting, not wanting to meet his gorgeous eyes and turn into a stuttering mess.

Sherlock smirked, already knowing the effect he had on Molly. "Are you aware we can leave campus for lunch?"
"Yes," she replied, still not looking up.

"Do you have plans?"

Molly sighed, and finally turned to face Sherlock. "No. I have no transportation, so I plan to stay on campus."

Sherlock hummed. Molly was just about to return to her notes, when Sherlock touched her arm. "Would you like to join me?"

Molly turned to face Sherlock once more. "Excuse me?"

"Do you want to join me for lunch? We have an hour and a half."

Molly quirked an eyebrow. "I suppose I wouldn't mind joining you, but how do you figure an hour and a half?"

Sherlock smirked. "We have thirty minutes for lunch, and we both have an hour long study hall. How quickly can you eat?"

"I don't eat a lot for lunch. I brought some scones."

"Good. I'm certain you've never had a lunch break like this before."


Molly was worried by the mischievous glint in Sherlock's eyes. What did he mean? Where were they going?

She met Sherlock at the back doors of the cafeteria.

"Alright, Sherlock, where are we going," Molly asked, munching on a scone.

He smiled. "Ever seen a crime scene?"

She shook her head. Sherlock pulled out his phone, and dialed a number. "Greg? Yeah. We're on our way."

Sherlock beckoned for her to follow him, and Molly walked around the corner, surprised to see Sherlock holding out a cherry red motorbike helmet to her.

"You have a motorbike," Molly asked warily.

Sherlock grinned, and he put the helmet on Molly's head. Then he walked over to a glossy black motorbike. He pulled on his own black helmet. "Come on, Miss Hooper."

Molly warily climbed on behind Sherlock, and gingerly placed her hands on his sides.

"Hang on." Sherlock revved the engine, and Molly squealed, wrapping her arms around his waist in a vice tight grip.


Sherlock grinned at the feel of Molly's arms encircling his waist. Ever since his escapades with Irene, he'd basically ignored every member of the female sex. Molly was the first female in two years in whom he'd even been minutely interested. She was intelligent, and thought she was shy and mousy, she wasn't superficial or transparent. She was intriguing.


"Molly, we're here," Sherlock announced through the intercom in the helmets.

He hopped off the bike, and helped Molly off.

"Why exactly are we at a crime scene," Molly asked.

"Greg's dad is a detective inspector. Greg plans to follow in his footsteps. I have flawless deductive skills, and plan to be a consulting detective. You plan to study pathology. Usually, John accompanies me, but he has Advanced Calculus. I thought you might enjoy being my assistant."

Molly's eyes widened. "You mean I'll actually get to see a real corpse?"

Sherlock nodded.

Molly gasped in delight, and wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug. Sherlock stiffened at the unexpected touch, and awkwardly patted Molly's hair.

"Sherlock! Molly!" Greg beckoned his friends over.

"Hey, Greg," Molly called shyly. He nodded his greeting, and said, "What have you figured out, Sherlock?"

"Victim is in her late thirties, married, no children, two cats, and likely stays at home. My guess is her husband murdered her after she confronted him about his tryst with his secretary. Molly, cause of death?"

Molly studied the body. "Well, at first glance, I'd say blunt force trauma, but due to the petechial hemorrhaging and the nature of the blood pooling, I believe she was struck down, and then smothered."

Sherlock grinned. "Good show, Molly."

She blushed. "Th-thank you."

Just then, Molly's phone rang. She pulled it out. "Hello?"

"Molly?" Mary's voice sounded worried. "Where are you? I thought you weren't leaving for lunch?"

Molly blushed. "I - uh - I'm with Sherlock. On a case."
Mary gasped. "Can he hear you?"

"Yes."

"When you get back to our room, you're telling me everything."

Molly sighed. "Alright, I'll see you soon."

She hung up. Sherlock grinned. "When you get back tonight, make sure you make up something good. Confuse Mary."

Molly scowled, pulling a laugh out of the aspiring consulting detective.


Molly was dreading returning to her dorm room, not wanting to explain how her lunch break had turned into a mini-excursion with Sherlock.

She somehow felt ashamed that she'd jumped at an opportunity to spend some time with her enigmatic desk partner. Perhaps, it made her desperate?

Molly sighed. There was no avoiding it now. She opened the door, prepared for the worst.


"Sit down, grab a pack of biscuits, and tell me everything," Mary demanded.

Molly exhaled loudly. "What specifically do you want to know?"
"Was it romantic?"
"He took me for a motorbike ride, if that counts. Of course, we went to the site of a murder."

Mary rolled her eyes. "That's Sherlock for you. Still, you're the only person besides John that he's brought on a case."

"Greg was there too."

Mary shook her head. "How do you think Sherlock finds out about these cases?"

Molly shrugges. "if I've learned anything about him in the short time I've known him, it's to never assume anything about Sherlock Holmes."

Mary nodded. "I can't disagree with that."

Molly bit her lip. "Does...does Sherlock hand out compliments freely?"

"Not usually. Why?"

Molly looked at the biscuit in her hands. "No reason. I was just wondering. Goodnight, Mary."

"Goodnight, Molly."


Sherlock opened an eye upon hearing his roommate return to their dorm.

John audibly sighed as he dropped his things to the floor. "Why am I taking Advanced Calculus again?"
"Because senioritis hasn't infected you like it has the rest of us."
John rolled his eyes. "I'd wager a bet that it's only infected you and Greg. I heard you two cut class again."

Sherlock rolled over to face his best friend. "First of all, you've cut class before to go on a case."

"This is senior year. It's the most important year," John interrupted.

"Secondly," Sherlock continued, "I skipped a study hall, as did Greg and Molly, so it's technically not cutting class."

John's eyebrow quirked. "Excuse me, Greg and who?"
"Molly. Molly Hooper accompanied me."

John's jaw dropped. "Molly Hooper. As in, quiet, shy, aspiring pathologist, Molly Hooper? As in my girlfriend Mary's roommate Molly Hooper?"
"Yes. THAT Molly Hooper! Do you know another Molly Hooper?"
John stared at his roommate, a dopey grin plastered to his face. "You realize that this is the first girl you've shown any interest in since…"

"Yes, I realize, John," Sherlock snapped. If no one ever uttered the name "Irene Adler" again, it wouldn't be soon enough.

John grinned. "So, you like Molly?"
Sherlock relaxed a bit, glad the topic of discussion had moved from Irene. "I find her company enjoyable, yes."

The sandy-haired boy rolled his eyes at his roommate's inability to hear the underlying meaning behind his questions. "No, I mean do you like her?"

Sherlock groaned. "John, please, not this again!"
"Sherlock, what is the matter with getting a little psyched over Molly?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "You know why I can't, John."

John sighed and put an arm around Sherlock's shoulders. "Yeah, I know mate. I just think you should at least try to move on. It's been almost two years."

"Yeah, I know."


A/N 2: Hope you enjoyed that. I hope to update sometime this week. Please review! They keep writers happy. Please keep all criticisms constructive. Thanks, and lots of love.