After several chapters Molly's throat was a bit tired, she placed a bookmark where she had just finished, and stretched.

Sherlock opened his eyes at the interruption, "I'm going to make myself a cuppa. Would you like one?" Molly asked, heading towards the kitchen.

"Yes….please," he added as an afterthought. He didn't know how long he had been listening to her read, judging by the bookmark there was still quite a bit left. The story was rather typical of the time, but she was right about the language, and he did enjoy how animated she was while reading it. He frowned, there were those thoughts again, they were confusing. If they had suddenly appeared he'd dismiss them as a response to Molly being the only one who knew he was alive. But they had been there all along, as though it was just in the corner of his eye, always there but only now really seeing it.

Molly brought a tray out with tea and a few biscuits for the both of them, she set it on the coffee table, poured him a cup and settled back in her chair with her's. They sat quietly, Sherlock staring into his cup, Molly looking at him quizzically.

"Sherlock…something the matter?" As soon as the words left her mouth she could have kicked herself, she opened her mouth to apologize for the stupidity of the question.

He looked up at her, "No, no….just puzzling through some things." She smiled, he always had something he was working on, a mind like that rarely rested.

They finished their tea in companionable silence. Molly yawned, she hadn't slept as much or as well as she had hoped to last night, maybe she'd take a nap. She needed to get him off the couch first though, not to mention he could use the rest too judging by the circles under his eyes.

"I'm going to lie down for a bit if you don't mind. You should probably try to get some rest too, let me help you to the bed." He nodded and set his cup down. She helped ease him off the couch and into her room.

She got him settled in the bed, "I'll just be on the sofa if you need anything." He grabbed her wrist, "Molly, that sofa is a horror to even sit on, you won't get any rest on it. Your bed is large enough for both of us, and it will make it easier for me if I need your assistance."

Molly bit her lip, and flushed, she may have gotten better about being around him and speaking to him but sleeping next to him was a whole other ordeal. "No no, the couch is fine," she blurted hurriedly.

"Molly," he said sternly. "Physician heal thyself. If I have to rest and be comfortable so do you, now get into bed."

She raised her eyebrows at the last statement and turned an even brighter shade of red. She nodded, not trusting her voice, and crawled into her bed, putting as much space between the two of them as possible.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at her obvious behavior, but choose to remain silent. "Sleep well Molly."

"Mmm, you too," she mumbled into her pillow.

A few hours later Molly awoke, she rolled onto her side to gaze at her bed partner. Sherlock was still napping, he looked much more relaxed, she smiled, he looked younger especially with his curls a mess from sleep. She crawled silently out of the bed and set to work making dinner.

A little while later Sherlock awoke to an empty bed and the smell of something delicious cooking. He slowly eased himself out of bed, wincing slightly as his foot hit the floor. He dragged himself in the direction of the kitchen, using the walls and furniture to support him when he needed it. He came around the corner to find Molly busy cooking and humming to herself. He leaned against the wall to watch, smiling at how at ease she looked.

She turned spoon in hand, startled, "Oh Sherlock you scared me! You should have let me help you."

He waved her off dismissively, "I managed fine on my own, slowly but I am capable."

She nodded and turned back to the stove, she knew it was important to him to not have to rely on her.

"I hope chicken curry is okay for dinner. And yes you will have some," she said, knowing he was opening his mouth to protest.

He closed his mouth, it did smell good, and if he ate then he didn't have to hear about it all the time. "Alright," he shuffled to the kitchen table and took a seat.

Molly filled their plates and placed them on the table. She turned back and got her wine glass, already half empty.

"I'd offer you some but not with the meds you're on" she apologized.

He nodded, and picked up his fork.

Molly watched him from over the rim of her glass, waiting for a reaction to the food.

"I must say I'm impressed," he said after a bite. "I didn't know you could cook."

"I learned when I was younger. Dad would be at work most days so I was in charge of dinner. So I taught myself, much better than take-away and tinned soup."

He nodded, he knew she was an only child, lost her mother when she was four, so she was left to take care of her father. No wonder she was so willing to help him, it was in her nature.

They made idle chat through dinner, skirting the topic of his "death." After dinner they decided to watch a movie, so while Molly cleaned up Sherlock perused her movie collection.

Finding a suitable choice he popped it into the player and took a seat on the sofa. Molly joined him a few moments later, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa.

"What did you decide?"

"Casablanca."

"I love this film," she smiled. "It's been a while since I watched it."

"I've never seen it before. It sounded interesting," he admitted.

"Give me your foot, it needs to be elevated," she said tapping his leg.

He raised his eyebrows but did as she said. She lay it across her lap and placed a pillow just under his ankle.

"There, that should help," she smiled and pressed play on the remote.

Throughout the film he watched her out of the corner of his eye, her pleasure evident on her face. Obviously she knew the movie well, he caught her mouthing along with it a few times. He managed to keep quiet through the film, it was enjoyable, and clearly something Molly loved.

"So?"

"It was enjoyable. I rather liked Rick, he seemed a sensible fellow."

Molly chuckled, of course he did.

"You would. Well I'm glad you liked it. But we should probably get to bed," she yawned.

He slowly made his way to her bedroom, with her close behind in case he needed her help.

She gave him his anti-inflammatory pill again and they both settled into bed.

"Goodnight Sherlock."

"Goodnight Molly…thank you."

"Sherlock you don't have to keep thanking me," she said turning to face him.

"I don't think I could ever finish thanking you for what you've done," he said closing his eyes.

She didn't know what to say, she lay there awake long after he had fallen asleep replaying his words in her head, till at last sleep overtook her.