I'm getting into some slightly more fun stuff now. Hope you all enjoy the latest! Let me know what you think. ;)

-Bart's Hospital 2010-

Sherlock strode into Bart's and went straight to the elevators. He punched the button to go to the basement level, and tried to re-process what had happened the few days before, when Molly Hooper had once again entered his life. He had been genuinely shocked when he'd seen her face again. It had been years and he honestly thought he'd never see her again. It had been quite a long time since he'd even allowed himself to think about her.

She was the same Molly. Those years he spent at university weren't the favorite of his life. But he had to admit that seeing her face was nostalgic. He was reminded of a lot that was stored inside his mind, things that he had tucked deep inside, but hadn't quite been able to delete. He also reminded himself that he had learned lessons that final year at Oxford. He had learned how much of a disadvantage emotions could be. It had been the closest he'd come to...a lot of things.

Sherlock straightened up and exited the elevator as the doors opened. He was glad that he's become older and wiser now, and he was happy that his life had turned out the way it had. He had just about everything he could want. That is, as long as the cases kept pouring in. He had enough company, he told himself. He saw Lestrade while working on cases. Mrs. Hudson brought him tea every day. There was always the skull...

He entered the morgue and Molly turned around at hearing the sound.

"Oh, hi. Morning. Um, coffee?"

She's nervous, he thought. He looked at her eyes as he came up closer. He watched as the pupils dilated largely and he saw her cheeks flush in the same way he'd seen many times before.

Still? he thought to himself. After all these years...this will not do.

"Yes please...black, two sugars."

-Oxford University, 2002-

For Molly, that following month was spent working hard in class. Her head was spinning from all the mental energy she was using on learning and remembering. She enjoyed the rare moments when she could relax and enjoy the surroundings. It was easy to forget what a beautiful place she was in while she was working so hard. But the surroundings were lovely and there were fun things to do, when there was time for it.

Sherlock did indeed become a permanent fixture in her academic world. He made a point of working with her at any opportunity. He wasn't anything close to warm and fuzzy though. There were many times when Molly asked herself why he wanted to work with her when he didn't seem to want to be friends. He didn't need her in order to do well, that was certain. He could be working with an idiot and he would still easily carry the intellectual load by himself. And yet, he demanded to have her at his side.

If it were any other man, she would logically conclude that he had feelings for her. But even in the short time she'd known Sherlock, she could clearly see that was not the correct explanation. It would be too...commonplace. And he was anything but.

After working closely with him a number of times in that month though, Molly itched to spend some time with Sherlock outside the classroom setting. What's his family like? What are his hobbies? Where are his favorite places to go? She'd like to know it all, frankly, because she found him fascinating. She wanted to study him the way she'd watched him study chemicals on a petri dish.

It was Friday afternoon, and Molly was cleaning up supplies in the sink after class when Sherlock swept over beside her and smiled. She'd learned that he usually smiled for a reason. And it wasn't a normal reason like...he was happy.

"Hi, Sherlock. What is it?" she asked as she glanced sideways while continuing her task in the sink.

"You have anatomy soon don't you?"

"I do, yes. When did I tell you that I-"

"That's fortunate," he said and pursed his lips, considering this confirmation of her schedule. He paused and took a breath before speaking again. "You're aware, I'm sure, that it's Friday."

"Oh, well, naturally yes. Why do you ask?"

"Well that of course means that the weekend is looming ahead of us. I always have such a task ahead of me, keeping myself from becoming bored out of my mind over the weekend. Sometimes I have my side cases to take care of. But on weekends such as this, I have nothing in particular to fill my time." Sherlock rocked on his heels a bit as he spoke.

Molly lost her grip on one of the dishes she was trying to wash. My God! she though breathlessly. He is a normal man, and he's about to ask me out!

"Oh um yes, well that's true isn't it? Don't we all try to fill our time on the weekends? I know I do!" Molly laughed, and the sound was annoying even to her. "At this point I have, well, nothing to do yet."

"Mmm, well that's...a shame." Sherlock's eyes shifted a bit, noticing her strange behavior. "Anyway, I had a favor to ask you."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Well since you are about to be at your anatomy class, I'd very much like for you to bring me a tissue sample." The corner of his mouth curled a bit in another smile.

Molly stared for a moment, processing this request. Somehow this conversation had taken a turn without using an indicator, and Molly was now very lost. She blinked a couple of times as he stared back.

"Sorry um- wait what? You want me to bring you a...tissue sample? A human tissue sample?" she questioned with eyebrows raised.

"Yeees...as I said, I need to occupy my mind during the weekend. I'll have to keep myself busy with experiments." He clarified while narrowing his eyes at her, as if it was the most obvious answer.

Molly shifted uncomfortably as she not only thought about the strangeness of what he was asking of her, but also dealt with the disappointment of what he was not asking her. "Oh, well, I'm not sure I really feel comfortable..."

Sherlock took another step closer. Oh my, he smells good too, she though with an inward sigh. She had to turn the tap off and dry her hands so she wasn't continuing to drop things in the sink as she tried to listen to him.

"Molly, I'd very much appreciate whatever you can bring me," he said in a quieter voice and lower octave. "Even if it's small, it would be such a help...I'm not sure who else I'd be able to ask. You're the only person I could think of."

She tried to tell herself not to look at him, she really tried. She knew it would be a mistake. He was already trying to win her over, and if she actually looked at him, she knew she'd be absolutely no use at all refusing. But Molly didn't listen to herself, and she turned. Her gaze was met by his and that was it. She kicked herself inwardly.

"Um, sure, ok. I'll see what I can do I suppose." She smiled brightly, despite her reservations. She was rewarded by a grin from Sherlock in return, but he stepped back quickly to make his exit.

"Excellent! Come by 1B this evening on your way to your room and you can drop it off...please and thank you."

"Oh ok, I suppose. See you then!" she called, but he was halfway to the door by then.

Molly sighed, and wondered what she'd just gotten herself into.

She had covertly gotten what Sherlock had asked for and put the covered container in her bag to bring to him later. Her friend Jane came up to her as she left the class.

"Hey, what are your plans tonight? You want to come get some dinner with a few of us? We're going into town. There's a couple of single guys coming too," she added in a sing song voice while nudging Molly.

"Oh I don't know, I may be busy. I have another class, then I have to go stop by a friend's room to drop something off."

"That's all? You sound pretty free to me. Why don't you just come out with us afterward?"

Molly tilted her head in thought. "Well, I'd sort of like to leave my evening open. I mean, in case my friend wanted to get dinner or something."

Molly knew this was wishful thinking, but she was so afraid that Sherlock would miraculously choose to ask her out this evening and she'd then be forced to say no if she already had plans.

"Oh I see! So this is a friend you like then. Who is he?"

"I wouldn't say I like him...I mean I do! But, I don't know, I'm not quite sure how much. And I think he probably doesn't like me."

"You didn't answer the question, Molly. Who is he?!" Jane pressed.

"Well...it's Sherlock."

Jane frowned and her eyes widened at Molly. "Oh Molly, you can't be serious. He's bizarre! I know he's kind of cute, but I can't picture him being a great catch."

"I don't know, Jane, I can't exactly explain it myself. All I know is I'm enjoying working with him in class. And he doesn't seem to want to work with anyone but me. So, that's kind of nice."

"Then why don't you think he likes you? Seems kind of obvious to me. You should just make a move, I'm sure he'll take the bait. He is a man after all! So I guess you are busy tonight! Well, we will certainly miss you. And I'll want to hear how things go! Got to run, I'll talk to you soon. And remember, don't be a baby, just make a move!" she said again as she jogged off.

Molly had a gut feeling that making a move was a bad idea, but she also felt like Jane was a wiser woman than she in the relationship department. Maybe she'd be doing herself a favor if she just took Jane's advice. She bit her lip and walked along slowly to her next class, as she thought about the pros and cons of taking this risk.

Later that early evening, Molly had gone inside her building in Exeter house and was doing some deep breathing, trying to relax herself in order to do what she'd decided. She went to 1B and knocked lightly a few times. She heard Sherlock come to the door right away. He unlocked and opened it. His dress shirt sleeves were rolled up and he had to take off some safety goggles.

"Ah, Molly, right on time. Come in." He stepped aside to allow her entry into the studio flat.

Molly looked around and admired the space. It wasn't fancy of course, but it was certainly more than what most students had. There was the small kitchen in the corner, and she saw the door to a little bathroom.

"Maybe I should start not playing well with others," she muttered to herself, envious of her surroundings.

"So, here you go. I got what I could," she said, pulling out the small container and handing it to him.

"Oh wonderful! Thank you, this is most helpful...we should have a standing arrangement," he added with a small smile. Then he turned his back and began doing something at his small table which he'd clearly turned into a surface that was used only for experiments.

"So it's nice to have the week done isn't it?"

"Mmm." He barely turned.

"Well, I'm glad I could um, help. So..." Just do it Molly. "Are you doing anything tonight then?"

Sherlock turned again to face her. "Well there's much more chance of that now that you've made such a lovely contribution. So, yes, I suppose I may have some things to do."

"Oh, well, that's not really what I meant. You see, I was asking more like if you were doing anything for um, fun."

Blank stare. Molly continued.

"You know, like, with other people, or even just one person."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed and moved around the room, as if to search for the answer. Molly wondered why this was such a difficult and confusing question.

"What exactly would I be...doing with said person or people?"

Molly rolled her eyes a little and sighed. This wasn't going well. She hadn't even gotten past the definition of a social outing, and she was already feeling rejected.

"Just something fun, Sherlock. Like dinner, or a film, or a club, or something...I don't know. I suppose the obvious answer is no, you're not doing anything like that tonight."

"No...why do you ask?" he said slowly, peering down at her.

"I was just thinking, well wondering if you were free...because I'm free as well, it so happens!" She smiled, pausing. She watched him, and his expression hadn't changed. God, this is going about as badly as it could possibly go she thought. Why should she even bother to continue speaking? Wasn't this horror show enough of an answer? The voice in her head began screaming for her to retreat immediately.

"You know what? Never mind, it's silly!" she said at lightning speed as she waved her hand dismissively. "I was just thinking, but never mind. I'm going to just go to my room upstairs and do...something. It's fine, I'll just- go. You seem to have, you know, things to do by yourself." Molly turned, heading back toward his door.

Sherlock may be socially inept, but he wasn't a total idiot. And he'd been somewhat aware the entire time, that Molly Hooper was trying to get him to do something of a recreational nature with her. He was trying to wait and see if she'd ever actually get the words out. He wasn't exactly excited about doing something like that with her. He much preferred sticking to activities related to their education.

And he could have let Molly walk out of his little flat that evening, without saying another word. She would have left and possibly not ever come back. He assessed the possible outcome if he chose to leave things as is. This shy, smart, somewhat awkward girl who had quickly become a constant feature in his daily life may not feel comfortable with him anymore after this. And that did not seem an acceptable option to him...

Sherlock opened his mouth as she was opening the door. "Molly?"

"Yes, what?" she quickly answered, whirling around.

"Do you like fencing?"

She pressed her lips together and tilted her head. "Um, you mean like, that thing with swords?"

Sherlock began to wonder if he'd gone in the wrong direction with this offer. "Perhaps I'll rephrase the question in that case. Would you like to learn how to fence, Molly?"

A smile began to spread on her lips. "Yeah, why not?"

"Good. Let's go then."

-St. Bart's Hospital 2010-

"Here's the victim," Molly began, as she lifted the sheet. "Multiple stab wounds to the chest, arms, and neck. The weapon had to be sharp enough to cut as deep as it did, because there wasn't a terrible amount of force involved it seems. The wounds are very clean too. Could be something like a kitchen knife, but it would have to be a very sharp one. The cuts on his arms would indicate that he tried to fight the attacker off...not successfully of course."

"Isn't his wife a-"

"A chef," Sherlock said, cutting Lestrade off. "Access to the best and sharpest knives a person could want. The lack of extreme force would be consistent with someone of slightly lesser strength. As well as the fact that someone of that profession would know that such an instrument can do plenty of damage with very little force. I'd say it's time to check into someone's personal schedule Lestrade."

Sherlock pulled his gloves off with a snap and threw them in the bin, seeming ready to head right out quickly.

"Seventeen points for sabre," Molly said quietly, and both men looked at her again.

"What, Molly?" Lestrade asked with a quizzical expression.

"Fencing reference," Sherlock answered for her from where he stood by the door.

"Fencing?"

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Yes, it's the name for a certain target area. Sabre refers to the head, torso, and arms. One point for each hit."

"Really? Molly, I didn't know you were into fencing!" Lestrade said looking back toward her.

Molly didn't look up at first. "I'm not, not really." She raised her eyes toward the door.

"Had a few lessons in uni though," she added softly.

Greg said something like "How interesting...I didn't know that." But Molly wasn't looking at him. She was still looking over to where Sherlock stood.

For a brief moment, he looked up and locked eyes with her...then he muttered something about getting back to work, and was out the door. Lestrade said a quick goodbye and that he'd better follow Sherlock. The door shut and Molly was alone again.

Molly whispered to herself with a giggle. "And that's one point for me."