He was well aware of the risk he was taking but he knocked on the door nonetheless. Knock, knock…Nothing. KNOCK, KNOCK. There were feet to be heard scuffling over the floor. The words "soft fleece slippers, not new but barely used" crossed his mind.

He could feel her presence on the other side of the door, hear her shallow, slightly scared breathing and a mental image of her face flashed up in his mind: startled, fearful and… apprehensive maybe? That was only natural, given the circumstances.

For a moment he almost thought she wouldn't open but on the other side of the door a resolution was made, a deep breath taken…and Molly Hooper opened the door to her flat just wide enough to peer outside into the gloomy hallway.

Her hair was tousled; she was wearing a black tank top and grey pyjama pants plus the slippers he had assumed would clad her feet. When she managed to make out the face that was staring down at her from the barely-lit outside, she had to swallow hard and clench her jaw, the way she often did, making the tendons on her neck very apparent.

"Sh-…Sherlock?!" was all she had time to whisper, still groggy from being torn from her bed in the middle of the night, before he rushed past her into her apartment, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Hello, Molly. How are you on this lovely Wednesday night-or is it Friday, I don't know, it's so hard to keep track of these tedious little trivialities- where was I?" At this moment he interrupted the flow of words that was streaming from his mouth, way too fast as always, and turned around to look at Molly with eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Um…I think you were asking me how I-"

"Ah yes, your current emotional condition. Why am I even asking, I know how you are-not so well apparently. But why?- A date. You were on a date, a lawyer presumably, or a banker? Some important person- at least he thinks he is. Didn't go well, did it? But then, I guess that is barely surprising given your self-conscious awkwardness and the fact that he's interested in someone a lot younger- no offence. …Tea?"

While delivering his little speech he had been darting through the minuscule apartment, picking up small objects, sniffing pillows, looking under the sofa. A quite animalistic sense inside him seemed to take over in situations like these that allowed him to take in ever last little detail of the place. In just a few seconds he had learned what little he had not known of Molly's life before.

Molly, in turn, looked like she was going to faint. Increased heart and breathing rate, pale face, blushing neck. However from previous experience, Sherlock judged it best to ignore her obviously bewilderment and raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Tea?" he asked again.

"Oh, sure…yes, of course, I'm sorry" Molly murmured, as she scuttled past him into the kitchen, shaking her head confusedly and avoiding eye contact as she was in the habit of doing.

As the corners of his mouth curled upwards in a slight smirk, Sherlock threw back his coat, let himself fall into the sofa and crossed his legs.

xxxx

It felt wrong. He didn't know why or what it was that made him feel that way but something about this just felt…amiss. Maybe he was just finally going entirely mad. It wouldn't be surprising. It's not easy being all alone in the world. Before at least he had Harry, Harry his damaged sister, Harry the former alcoholic, Harry who just recently got divorced. But somehow she still seemed to be in a better psychological state than John.

He shook his head. You've got to stop thinking about this. John hadn't talked to his sister since she'd thrown him out. Not because he was angry, he wasn't – she had a point, but because he was too proud to call her up and make her think he couldn't manage a couple of days without her.

But the truth was- he couldn't. He needed someone, just somebody to talk to. Somebody who cared. And above all, he needed a place to spend the night. He couldn't find a reasonably cheap flat on such short notice and he was missing the money to stay in a hotel.

There were three people he could think of. Mrs Hudson was out of the question- just the thought of going back to Baker Street was sufficient to wind John's gut up in a knot and pierce a knife through it. One down, two to go- number two being Lestrade. John had thought about it. But he didn't think he could sleep at Lestrade's place. Not even for a couple of nights until he found his own place. It would be too…awkward. That left the last person on his list-Molly.

It still didn't feel right, though. Standing in the dark, John hesitated. He should not have come in the middle of the night. Any normal person would be in bed by this hour. However, John had grown used to unusual sleeping cycles when he was living with…Stop it. Just stop it and knock on the bloody door.

It was at this point he heard voices from inside. Voices…and footsteps approaching the door. He could make out Molly's speech and someone else's…a deep, masculine murmur.

xxxx

"Sherlock…why exactly are you here?"

"Why? Can't a man pay his friends a visit?"

"No, no…it's just…you said you'd leave and stay away for a while. I thought you'd left the country, moved to Mexico or something but-"

"Mexico?! Why on earth would I go to Mexico?!"

"That's not the point- why are you here?"

"This is excellent tea, by the way. Where did you get it?" Sherlock asked as nonchalantly as possible, deliberately ignoring Molly's inquiries. After all- what was he supposed to say? He himself didn't know why he was here. Because he was lonely? Because he hadn't gotten to show off his deduction skills in quite a while? Because he missed John and was trying to find a replacement in Molly (and a poor replacement at that)? Frankly, he really didn't know and he didn't like not knowing.

"…absolutely ok. I mean if you want to stay here for a while, you could, you know. I understand it can't be easy for you to-"

"I'm sorry. What?" Sherlock interrupted, realizing Molly had kept talking all the way through his musing. Slowly, Sherlock rose from the sofa, picked up his blue scarf and tied it with a quick, trained movement of his hand. "I should probably go now. You're right- I have no reason to be here."

"Wait, Sherlock…no-wait…what?!" was all Molly could manage to stutter, trying to keep up with Sherlock's long strides as he made for the door. Gloved hand on the doorknob, Sherlock turned around, smiling. "Thanks for the tea, Molly, and…everything else."

With these words, Sherlock Holmes twisted the knob, and threw the door open.