Sherlock continued to mope about at home. He had no frame of reference for these feelings and John was unhelpful. Possibly because John started out with a position of potentially fancying most women, whereas Sherlock was only interested in one. This interest had come on him so gradually he'd barely noticed. But when he thought back, it must have begun when she called him out that Christmas before his fall for embarrassing her so. What he most remembered from that night, apart from her reaction, was the growing horror on his friends' faces as he deduced Molly. Lestrade looked appalled. John couldn't look away but wanted to. Mrs Hudson alternated embarrassment for Molly with embarrassment for himself. John's girlfriend, oh who cares what she thought. But Molly managed to stand up to him that night, when she was clearly mortified, and that awoke something in him. Later on, when she deduced him the day before the fall, he realised again that she was something special. Molly didn't even realise at the time that Sherlock's methods of observation had rubbed off on her, but there she was, using his own talent against him, which of course ultimately led to her direct involvement and later hiding of him. That shelter had allowed their relationship to grow in a new way: Molly was no longer intimidated by him. He came to see her as an equal, well, no, no one was quite his equal, but at least on the same playing field. He had also never spent so much time with a woman. There had been no female flatmates in the past. Living with a woman, just sharing a space, was so different and vital an experience. He learned so much about human behaviour in that short time. And since then, it had improved his detection rate. Once he might not have considered an emotional angle for a crime. But now, he had potentially ruined it all by changing the nature of their relationship with one stupid kiss.

Molly was reeling from John's revelation. A part of her wondered if it could possibly be a joke, but John wasn't the sort to play cruel pranks. So, as Sherlock would say, when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. But what if the truth seemed impossible? One thing was clear, they had to talk.

An hour later, after a quick text to John to confirm he was not at home, Molly arrived at Baker St. As she stood there, coffees in hand, she seemed to lose her nerve. Mrs Hudson saved the day by going out at that moment, so Molly was ushered in and up the stairs before she could run away.

"Sherlock! That nice Molly is here to see you," she shouted up the stairs as she left.

Molly again stood outside John & Sherlock's front door and paused without knocking.

"You may as well come in since you're here."

She took a deep breath and opened the door. The flat was the usual chaos of books and newspapers. Sherlock was lying on the couch in his pyjamas.

"Oh, did you just get up? Never took you for a lying around in bedclothes person."

"Actually, I rarely get dressed unless I'm going out. What are you doing here?"

"Well, if you'd listened to my voicemails, you'd know I wanted to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk to you. But you can leave the coffee."

"Tough bananas. I'm here and you're going to listen." She handed him his coffee and clearing a pile away from the coffee table, sat down on it in front of him.

"We have chairs," he said, glowering at her.

"Yes, but they seem far away and I want to make sure you're paying attention."

"Now, I spoke to John and he gave me some surprising news."

Sherlock responded by turning away from her and groaning into the cushions. Molly reached out tentatively and put her hand on his shoulder. He tensed up but didn't turn around.

"Sherlock, is it true? Do you, em, like me? Is that why you've been spending time with me and why you kissed me last night?"

He remained silent. Molly pulled his shoulder to try and force him to look at her.

"Well this is a great start. I can just imagine telling our grandchildren this story. Oh yes, I liked your grandfather for years before he finally reciprocated and then he had complete flap when he did and acted like a 4 year old in trouble. Now, I know what you're going to say…we've kissed once and I've already named our grandchildren. Well, get over it, women always do this sort of thing. We imagine future scenarios with men we met once at a bus stop, celebrities, people we knew 20 years ago."

Sherlock finally turned around. His eyes displayed a combination of mass confusion and amusement. He sat up straight, facing her, their knees almost touching.

"You've named our putative grandchildren?"

"Of course, there's 5, Violet will have three children and Nicholas will have two."

"And Violet and Nicholas are our….children?"

"Yes," she seemed to finally realise that this conversation was taking place outside her head. "Er, I sound a bit crazy now, don't I?"

"Quite mad. But I suppose it couldn't be any crazier than kissing someone and then running away before they had a chance to react."

He stared at her. Unwilling to bear such close examination, Molly moved to get up and walk away but Sherlock grabbed her hands and pushed her back down.

"So….what now?" he asked.

"Well, according to John's dating rules, we've done phase 1: coffee. What does he do next?"

"I don't think we should bring him into this any further than he already is, do you?"

"Why don't you try kissing me again?"

He must have looked terrified because Molly immediately added:

"Those grandchildren won't appear on their own! If you can't even kiss me…"

He closed his eyes as if steeling himself for the ordeal ahead. Molly was now frustrated by his quixotic behaviour, so she took matters into her own hands. She leaned over and grabbed his cheeks. His eyes flashed open at the sudden contact and he watched as she closed the gap between them and gently laid her lips on his. They stayed like that, without moving for several seconds, savouring the taste and idea of it. No fierce clawing at each other's clothes – though it would surely come later. Sherlock took hold of her hands again to pull her forward but stopped short of dragging Molly onto his knee. For now, it was all a bit overwhelming. He broke off the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. Molly felt as she might bust apart. Never, in all the years of knowing Sherlock, well maybe the moments before she first spoke to him, but not since, did she actually think this would happen. Of course, she had imagined it countless times…but this was real life.

Finally, he asked again: "So what now?"

"I think I'd like to take you out."

He looked confused. "I know this has previously been not my area, but aren't I supposed to take you out?"

"Not unless we've gone in a time machine to 1950. Besides, I earn more money than you. In fact, you don't even have a regular income. I'm not sure you're boyfriend material at all." She shook her head.

Sherlock gazed down at their still-linked hands.

"Maybe not, but I'll do my best."

"I would expect nothing less. Now go get dressed, I'm taking you on adventure."

The End.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.