So here we go, picks up right where the last one ended...


With Sherlock busy talking to Lestrade, Molly had taken the opportunity to explore the bedroom.

So this was were Sherlock grew up, she thought to herself, as she let her eyes wander through the room. It was gorgeous, but as she had already noted earlier, it reminded more of a museum than a child's bedroom. A few books that were stacked on the floor next to the dresser and a plush dog, that looked more like a torn apart pillow with eyes – or more accurately one eye – were the only personal items. She picked the dog up, and couldn't help but wonder what it had been through to get to it's current state, knowing Sherlock it probably hadn't suffered from too much cuddling.

After putting the toy back on the bed she stepped out on the small balcony that overlooked the majestic garden, where the cold wind quickly reminded her of the state of her clothing. Shivering a little she wrapped the big towel that was draped over her shoulders tighter around her.

"Enjoying the view?" At the sound of Sherlock's voice she turned around, facing the Detective who had just walked in in a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms and nothing else...

"Yes..." She answered truthfully. "I mean, this is all really beautiful," she stammered, telling herself to relax – she had just taken a bath with the man after all, well more or less...

"Here, put those on, your clothes will be dry in the morning," he said handing her one of his dress shirts and a pair of boxers.

"Thank you," Molly replied, but then she realized what he had just said. "You want me to spend the night?"

"It's getting late, you're likely not to find your way back in the dark, and I doubt you have other obligations," Sherlock waited a moment for her to object, but of course she didn't.

"Alfred will set up one of the rooms for you, and he reminded me that it would be a good idea to consume some of the food he is preparing. He's worse than Mrs Hudson really..." Sherlock went on, mumbling the last part.

"Are you sure it's not too much trouble, I don't want to..."

"He insisted," Sherlock cut her off. "I'm gonna give you some privacy to dry up, just find me downstairs when you are ready."

xoxo

When Molly entered the kitchen a few minutes later she found the big room abandoned, the consulting detective nowhere in sight.

"Sherlock?" She called for him, wondering if she was in the right room, judging by the size of the house she wouldn't be surprised if there was indeed more than one kitchen...

"Great, he kisses me, asks me to spend the night, and then he disappears,..." she mumbled, looking a little lost – but just as she decided to go look for her host, Alfred came in, carrying a bottle of wine.

"Ah Miss Hooper, I sent Sherlock back upstairs to get dressed, running around half naked in an old house like this, it's a miracle that boy is still alive."

"I guess that'd be my fault for stealing his shirt," Molly replied, instantly liking the older man.

"There's a well filled wardrobe upstairs, but we can't blame him for wanting to impress you, do we?" Alfred winked at her, causing her to blush.

"Oh no, it's not like. We're, I'm just..I'm, I'm his pathologist. A pathologist I mean. I help him out sometimes."

"I'll get the guest bedroom ready then," The older man said with a warm smile that made her relax again.

"Thank you."

"I have to say though, I've known Sherlock his entire life, and not once did he invite a girl. I think that makes you more than just a pathologist."

"He needed my help with an experiment," Molly reasoned.

"When does our Sherlock ever need help? Now go, see if you can find him, and ask him to show you the lake. It's beautiful."

xoxo

Much to Molly's surprise it didn't take take much convincing to get Sherlock to show her around – the Detective almost seemed to be pleased to do so, for his standards at least...

"How do you not spend every free minute here?" Molly asked, as they made their way through the garden.

"I'd miss the morgue," Sherlock replied.

"I can always come here," Molly said before realizing that he probably had not meant her "I mean for experiments, we can do things here. Like today, I mean not like, but..."

"Molly," Sherlock cut her off as they came to a stop at the lake. "I am sorry for making you uncomfortable, but there is no need to ramble."

"What?" Molly gave him a confused look, did Sherlock Holmes just apologize to her?

"It was inappropriate to kiss you without your consent," he continued. "I was under the impression that you enjoyed it, but now you seem to be rather irritated."

"Who wouldn't be?" Molly blurted out, the sudden force in her voice surprising herself more than Sherlock. But now that it was out she might as well go on. "You can't just go around kissing people in bathtubs, with candles and romantic...everything...and then you go on pretending that it did not mean anything, even though it did. To one of us at least!"

"I didn't...it was a crime scene..."

"In your bedroom!"

"Bathroom," he corrected her.

"Whatever, you didn't even need me here! As if the great Sherlock Holmes with his brilliant mind and perfectly toned chest couldn't have solved a case like this alone," with that she stepped out onto the small jetty, and turned her back to him, hoping that he wouldn't notice the tears.

"Molly..." he took a step forward and reached for her hand, wanting to pull her off the weak construction – but instead of accepting the help Molly tried to push him away and with one clumsy step to the left the pathologist lost her balance and landed in the cold water.

"And that would be the second time that your clumsiness has gotten you into trouble tonight," Sherlock joked, after he was sure that Molly was okay, while Molly herself was wishing that she could just disappear in the water.

"Come on," he offered her a hand but Molly was determined to get out without his help.

"I'm fine thank you."

"Molly, don't be ridiculous, take my hand," he ordered, but as soon as Sherlock stepped further out onto the jetty the rotten wood under him gave in and he landed in the water right beside her.

"I told you I didn't want your help," Molly snapped at him, before she tried to make her way to the shore while Sherlock needed a moment to recover from the shock. But this didn't take long, and with two long strokes he was suddenly back infront of her.

"But I enjoy yours."

"What?" The four words she had just heard were probably the last ones she had expected to hear from him, and if it hadn't been for Sherlock slipping his arm around her waist she probably would have drowned right there.

"You," he cleared his throat. "...were correct, I did not need you here, I wanted you here. You Molly Hooper are not as useless as you think you are."

"Because I'm easy to humiliate..."

"Oh for god's sake," Growing more and more frustrated with the situation Sherlock decided that showing was easier than explaining, and with one swift move he pulled her closer to him and pressed his lips on hers.

Molly froze in his arms, was this really happening? Again?

The kiss in the bathtub had been spontaneous, playful, a spur of the moment thing, but this was something else entirely. Molly could feel his frustration fade away, as soon as she responded, but they had to stop for air eventually...

"I said you can't do that," she whispered looking into his blue eyes.

"You said, I can't do this in bathtubs, this is a lake," he reasoned, a smile curving his lips, ready for round two. He was about to lean in when he saw a light flickering from afar and heard Alfred calling his name.

"This will have to wait then," with that he guided the flustered pathologist to the shore and helped her to to get out of the water.

xoxo

Alfred awaited them with an amused smile for Molly, a scolding look for Sherlock, and warm bathrobes for the both of them. Neither Sherlock nor Molly were, however, very interested in the nice dinner he had prepared. If things hadn't been awkward before they certainly were now, as Molly desperately tried to figure out what Sherlock would do next, while the man himself did not seem to be at all affected by his recent confession. At least not until they were alone again...

Knowing that they would appreciate the warmth after the little accident Alfred had set up the dinner by the couch infront of the fireplace. Unsure if Sherlock wanted her on the couch with him, she choose one of the armchairs, but as soon as Alfred had left the room, Sherlock got up and knelt down infront of her.

"I would love to continue where we left off, but judging from your previous reaction I concluded that we should talk first."

"You were serious, weren't you?" Molly asked, her eyes growing wide at the idea that Sherlock could actually be interested in her.

"I thought kissing you – twice - established that." He looked up at her, his voice even lower than usual.

"So you actually did ask me out here because you..."

"Molly, I invited you to assist me in an experiment. I did not ask you because I needed an assistant and John was not available. I asked you because I knew that you would enjoy it, and so did I. And isn't this," He gestured at the dinner infront of them, "a nice way to end this day that we both enjoyed?"

"So is this...I mean, is this is this your idea of a date?"

"I guess some people would call it that. So yes, a date it is then," he explained with a smile, and all Molly wanted to do, was throw her arms around the man in front of her, but one thing was stopping her.

"You know, most first dates don't include taking baths or kissing...at least not like that."

"Molly, if we start calling our experiments dates, then we had hundreds of dates. Wouldn't you agree?" He asked, and this time there was nothing holding her back. Before Sherlock knew what was going on she had her arms around him, and her lips on his. Surprised by the attack Sherlock lost his balance and they both ended up on the floor. The kisses, only interrupted by occasional laughter, grew more urgent and passionate with each touch.

"Just a pathologist..." Sherlock and Molly immediately broke apart as they heard the older man's voice.

"Alfred,..." Sherlock started, his voice calm and collected as always - creating a ridiculous contrast to his flushed look, and the fact that an equally flushed Molly Hooper was indeed straddling him.

"...Is there something you need?"

"I came to see if dinner was to your satisfaction, but I see you were otherwise occupied," Alfred explained, amused by the scene infront of him.

"Oh god, we're so sorry..." Molly apologized, her face feeling hotter than the flames behind her.

"Oh, no need to apologize, you're only young once. Enjoy it. I'll be in my chambers should you need anything else. Unless you still want me to fix up that guest bedroom."

Sherlock and Molly both shared a look of agreement, and before either one of them could reply anything Alfred was already halfway out of the door.

"That's what I thought," He said with a smile before he disappeared in the hallway, while the action behind him continued.


So best date ever, right? I've never been more jealous of Molly... And I know I need to apologize for taking so long with this, but I had lots of things (good and bad) going on, and writing was the last thing on my mind – but now I'm a 100% back on the Sherlolly train.

And I know Sherlock is a little "un-sherlocky" in this but I needed the angst free fluff, and everything is okay in the name of fluff.

And as always thanks so much for all the nice reviews – they never fail to make me smile.

Love, Laura