Molly smiled at her young guest who was wrapped in a quilt, sipping coffee and watching telly on her sofa. She'd sleep much better knowing the younger woman wasn't freezing in the horrible winter cold. As it was Charlotte, she actually preferred Charlie, with her face scrubbed clean and wearing a pair of Molly's flannels looked so young. Too young. Her dark hair was all clean now from the shower but didn't shine as it dried. How had a lovely girl like her ended up where she was – hooked on drugs and half-dead on the streets of London?

London chewed up people and spat them back out. They ended up in Molly's morgue by the day. Oh, she could just hear her mother going on and on about how stupid she was to take in some miscreant from the street and the danger she had possibly placed herself in. Her mother wouldn't understand. Here was an opportunity to help one of them, to maybe keep this girl out of her morgue. Besides, giving someone a warm place to sleep for the night wasn't that much of a sacrifice. Not when she lived alone.

The drug withdrawal wasn't as bad as Molly originally thought. Turns out the girl had been without a fix for a few days and her withdrawal symptoms weren't as bad as they could have been. She'd seen Sherlock in much worse shape. Molly couldn't get her to eat much but at least she'd be warm tonight. That was enough for now.

"So you're a doctor?" Charlie asked without looking away from the television.

Molly nodded, sitting down in the chair next to the sofa. "I'm a pathologist at St. Bart's."

The girl's gaze met Molly's. "You been working there long?"

"A few years," Molly explained.

"Do you like it? Working in the hospital?" Charlie took a sip of her coffee.

When a certain detective isn't driving me crazy. "For the most part, yes, I like working there very much."

"Do you have to wear all of that?" the girl asked, her gaze sweeping over Molly.

Molly glanced down at herself. Typical dress for her. The lab coat was in her office where it belonged. Slacks, blouse, jumper. Two pairs of socks but only because it was winter.

"It gets chilly in the morgue," Molly admitted. "I'm always cold, even in the summer. I always dress in layers."

Charlie nodded, turning her attention back to telly.

That was it? Why had she asked Molly was dressed? Curiosity got the better of her.

"Was there a reason you asked about… my attire?" Molly tried to sound casual but as usual missed it by a mile.

Molly thought the girl gave a single shoulder shrug under the heavy quilt. "I just asked because of the guy."

Guy? "What…guy?"

Moriarty? Molly's heart raced as the girl looked at her again.

"The one outside the hospital when you came to talk to me. The detective from the papers. He was watching you. "

Sherlock? Watching her?

Molly shook her head. "Sherlock, yes. He's a friend of mine. He'd just left the hospital when I came out to talk to you."

"He's handsome," Charlie said. "I like his curly hair."

"I suppose," Molly replied to that. Okay, he's gorgeous and the git knows it.

"If I were a fancy doctor and had a man what looked like him watching me like that…"

"Oh, no." Molly automatically made excuses for him. "He was probably waiting to see me get hit by a bus, Charlie. That's all."

Again, the girl shrugged. "Whatever you say."

"You'd have to know him," Molly went on though she couldn't say why. "He's just that way. Curious. A detective and all."

"I know men." Charlie was watching telly again. "I saw the way he was watching you. Weren't nothing detective-like about it really."

Her heart raced in her chest as she considered the girl's words. Sherlock? Watching her? Like that?

Slow down, Molly. It wouldn't take a great intellect to figure out she was besotted with the detective, had been since she'd first laid eyes on him. The girl could be trying to play her.

Best to just cut it off now. No manipulation, no getting her hopes up over the impossible.

"If you really knew him, Charlie, you'd know Sherlock… has no interest in me. Like that." Damn it. Was she going to stammer over her words now merely talking about him?

Placing the coffee on Molly's table, the girl focused her attention squarely on her.

"I'll bet you another night here, in your flat, that I can… do something with you to get a rise out of him." Charlie shot her a challenging grin, sick and frail looking as the girl was, there was still fire there. "I'll prove my point."

Huh. That kind of reminded her of Sherlock himself. An experiment to prove one was right?

And another night at her place? Yes. That was what the girl was really angling for.

Molly sighed. It was supposed to be even more bitterly cold tomorrow and she probably wouldn't have the heart to send Charlie on her way into that anyway. If anything, they would prove that she was right. Aside from putting a huge purple sombrero on her head to see what insult he'd fling at her, there was no chance that the girl or anyone else could do or say anything to make Sherlock Holmes interested in Molly Hooper aside from what she could provide him from the morgue for his endless experiments.

No, she wasn't going to admit to herself how pathetic the challenge really was. Molly decided to just go with it. What else did she have to do really?

"Very well, Charlie. Challenge accepted."

The girl's grin widened. She really was a lovely creature. "Good! What time do you go in to work tomorrow?"

"Same time as today, late shift."

Charlie nodded.

That was it?

"Do I need to do anything differently?" Molly couldn't help asking. Did she need time to do her hair? Makeup? Pick out clothes?

"No," Charlie said simply. "Just do what you always do."

Having no idea what that meant, Molly shrugged, too tired to worry about it now. Her shoulders ached and it was time she went to bed.

"I'm off to bed, Charlie. If you need anything, just let me know."

"Molly?"

Molly had just risen from the sofa and turned back to her young guest.

"Thank you," the girl said with all sincerity.

Something shifted in her chest as she watched the girl lie down, still watching telly. Charlie was safe tonight and warm.

Feeling good about her decision to take the girl in, Molly made her way to her bedroom.

The next morning had been pleasant enough. Charlie had slept soundly until late morning, it had warmed Molly's heart to see the girl curled up on her sofa, safe. She waited until she had lunch almost ready to awaken the girl. Charlie had gotten herself ready for the day and they had a pleasant time talking while they ate.

Charlie didn't talk about herself at all, not surprising, and Molly didn't ask. Instead she kept the conversation centered around books, movies, and eventually the hospital came up again.

"You seem very curious about my work at the hospital," Molly pointed out. The girl's questions didn't send up any red flags but her interest definitely stood out.

Charlie's face colored just a little. "When I was… younger… I thought one day I might like to be a nurse. Helping people. That sort of thing."

Ah. Molly couldn't help smile at that. "You still could be. You're still very young, you know."

The girl shot her look that said "don't be a moron." Again, she couldn't help but be reminded of Sherlock there.

"Charlie, just because you're where you are now doesn't mean you always will be," Molly told her. "You could be a nurse one day. You could be anything."

Charlie blew out an exhale on that one. "Right. I've no home, no money for school. No clothes fit to wear for school. My prospects are limited, wouldn't you say?"

What did she say to that? Molly knew she was right but she also knew there had to be a way for Charlie to rise above where she was now. There had to be services out there, help available. She'd need to look into it.

"We'll do some research," Molly assured her. "If I have a slow day, I'll see what I can find. If not, we'll see what we can find on my laptop when I get home."

Glancing at the clock by the kitchen window, Molly saw she had just enough time to leave for work.

"I'd better go," Molly told her, clearing their dishes and placing them in the sink.

Charlie set about helping her tidy the kitchen and by the time Molly had her coat on and purse in hand, her young guest appeared ready to go with her.

"Heading out?" Molly asked when Charlie followed her out of her flat.

"I thought I might head out for cigarettes, a paper," the girl said nonchalantly.

Molly regarded her then. "I'm letting you stay here another night in my flat but… no visitors."

Charlie nodded, looking tired. Did the girl even remember their challenge from the night before? Molly doubted it.

It was just as well.

"Promise?" Molly wanted her word on that. It was bad enough worrying that Jim Moriarty would show up at her door, and now she had a young guest who could be in danger from that, without bringing more trouble into her life.

"Promise," Charlie mumbled though she did look Molly in the eye.

Reaching into her purse, Molly fished out her spare key and gave it to the girl. "I want this back at the end of the day."

The girl nodded.

And then they were off, the girl walking with her as she made her way up streets that would lead to St. Bart's. The wind was icy cold and Molly was shivering before they were even half way there.

"Do you always walk in the winter?" Charlie grumbled and Molly frowned noticing the poor girl's short skirt and thin jacket. The glittery pink lipstick she wore covered lips that would soon turn blue from the cold.

"Yes, it's good exercise and work isn't that far."

When they reached St. Bart's, Charlie held the door open for her and surprised Molly by following her inside. What was this all about?

Molly opened the door to the morgue just enough to hear that John and Sherlock were waiting inside. Charlie was right behind her though she didn't know why. Letting the door shut, Molly turned back to Charlie.

"I thought you were going after—"

Charlie surprised her by taking her face in her hands and kissing Molly solidly on the mouth. Molly squeaked – at her age, she literally squeaked – as the girl held her firmly, her kiss enticing and soft. All she could do was stare at Charlie in shock when she was finally released, no words immediately coming to mind.

The girl's face split into a wide grin. "Remember that challenge?"

With that the girl, pulled open the morgue door and nudged Molly through it.

"Bye Molly," she called for good measure as she literally ran back out of the hospital.

Both men were staring in Molly's direction as she tried her best to compose herself. She needed to get into work mode and quickly. John waved as he leaned against the counter and Sherlock sat on the stool at her microscope as always but instead his normal disregard of her, the detective eyed her curiously. He still looked frail, like he hadn't slept in a year. Even so, he was heart-stoppingly handsome.

"Sherlock, John, what brings you here?" Molly tried for friendly and bubbly and missed it by a mile. "Is John finally letting you take cases now?"

"There was a double homicide this morning and of course Greg called him," John explained in an exasperated tone. If he noticed anything was off with Molly, he hid it well. "The best I can really do is try to keep him from killing himself."

Sherlock's stare hadn't wavered. Hell, he hadn't even blinked as his gaze assessed her. Great, now she was more uncomfortable around him than normal. Perfect way to start the day.

Molly decided quickly that the best thing to do was to act as if nothing was amiss. Sherlock normally paid her little attention. Why should today be any different?

With surprising speed, Sherlock rose from the stool. He blocked her path to her office, towering over her in a way that scared her and thrilled her all at once. Molly jerked in surprise when Sherlock ran his index finger over her lower lip.

"Sherlock… what are you doing?" She huffed indignantly. "Why does everyone think they can invade my space and do what they like with my person today?"

"You have a shade of lipstick smeared over your mouth that is clearly not yours," Sherlock stated, his intent gaze darting between his finger and her mouth.

Making eye contact with him, Molly nodded. "Yes, I'm well aware of that fact. I just want to get to my office."

"Sherlock," John's tone held a note of warning. "It's not your concern what Molly does with her makeup."

"It's not her makeup, John."

John stared at him in confusion. "What?"

"That isn't to say she borrowed the cosmetic. It's smeared across her lips from… a kiss."

Something strange flashed in those beautiful blue-green eyes but was gone in an instant.

That observation earned her a look from John. "You kissed a bloke… and he was wearing lipstick?"

Molly tried not to snap at John. "Charlie is, in fact, female."

John's eyes widened and Molly tried to edge around Sherlock unsuccessfully.

"Charlie? The prostitute you were talking to outside yesterday?" Sherlock asked.

John's mouth had dropped open at this point. She expected to see the customary know-it-all smirk on Sherlock's handsome face but even he appeared bewildered at the moment.

"So what if she is? Not your business," Molly reminded him sharply. With a none-too-gentle shove, she sent Sherlock stumbling back a step and darted into her office, locking the door. Fortunately, for her sanity's sake, no one tried to open it.

Without pulling off her coat, Molly sank into the chair behind her desk and tried to get her mind around the last five minutes. Charlie had kissed her. Sherlock had done his deduction thing because of it. Heaven only knew what Sherlock and John would make of the entire thing.

Molly had no immediate plans to leave her office. Ever.