A/N: I hate myself for this chapter, sorry guys! But here is the next installment. I made up for it, I promise to give you a wonderful chapter soon. (I mean, maybe it's chapter 12, it's literally my favourite thing in the world and I'm so proud of that chapter coming up.) ;) Three chapters in one day you lucky crowd.

Sherlock awoke the next morning with his familiar friend sleeping next to him again. He had convinced her that since they had already slept in the same bed (which to his previous argument, there was in fact plenty of room for the two of them), and since the bed was more comfortable than the sofa, that the most logical thing would be for them to continue sharing a bed.

He lay perfectly still and observed her, his face so close that his nose almost nudged the top of her head; when she had fallen asleep the previous night, she had made sure that she was as far away from Sherlock as possible, practically falling off of the bed. But just as the morning before, she woke up close to him. This time her head was resting on his chest along with her hand resting there. She was sleeping peacefully; quiet as can be, for once not looking so sad, and he found it… relieving?

Sherlock felt a bit strange; this was never a position he had found himself in before, but he did not find it unpleasant at all. He continued to watch her sleep and found it was the first time in a while where he felt at rest; he was relaxed, and his mind wasn't racing, which very rarely happened. But it was a moment of content as he watched her there.

It was not long before Molly finally started stirring; she took her hand that was resting upon his chest and rubbed her eyes, finally opening them. She was still, trying to determine if she was in the position that it seemed to look. She slowly turned her head up to look at Sherlock's face, hoping he was still asleep. Instead she found those blue pools just looking down at her and her eyes widened.

For some reason though, she didn't move; she couldn't figure out why he had not pushed her off of him yet and her brows furrowed.

"Problem?" he asked, his voice smooth like velvet, as soon as he saw the look of confusion on her face. She felt paralyzed; their faces were so close together and she found redirecting her eyes towards his lips.

Her hand was still resting on Sherlock's chest and although she couldn't manage to turn her head, she felt him pick up her hand and press two fingers to wrist.

He was toying with her, he was deducing. Her pulse was racing as he kept his eyes intent on her. "Fascinating," he breathed low and quiet.

"Uhm, no, I'm uh, I'm sorry; I don't really know how I ended up here…" she said, finally answering his question and slipped her head off of him as she stood up.

Normally Sherlock found her stuttering and nervousness to be a pain, for some reason he was amused by her coy embarrassment, and she saw him crack a smile.

Now she was even more confused and her cheeks turned a very bright scarlet, "I'm going to take a shower," she said, grabbing her things and scurrying to the bathroom.

Molly felt like a schoolgirl, she was being so shy about what had happened earlier, but she never thought that Sherlock would break past that comfort zone that deeply. Of course, she wanted him to, she wanted that more than anything, but she never actually thought that would happen; she thought it was ultimately beyond her reach.

She was wondering what would have happened if she had stayed there and not moved out of shyness. Would they have kissed? No, that was preposterous, why on earth Sherlock Holmes, brilliant consulting detective, would find interest in the dull, mousy pathologist that had trouble speaking to him without stuttering at the worst of times. She tried to shake the thought off, but she was daydreaming about his lips capturing hers. "Molly," she said to herself in that familiar Sherlock tone.

When her hair was dry she walked out of the bathroom. Sherlock was sitting on the sofa, fixing the cufflinks of his shirt and it was taking a lot for her not to stare. It her favourite shirt, the purple shirt, that almost clung too tightly to his body. Not only this, but she had to stop herself from groaning when she saw his usually perfectly neat curls still ruffled into a tossled, dark mess. A flow of blood flushed her cheeks as she bit down hard on her lip; she definitely needed some air.

"Any word from Irene?" she asked, as she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. She had no intentions of mentioning this morning's moment between them, she would probably have just made a fool of herself anyway.

"No," he said, huffing, planting himself down on the sofa and steepling his hands over his lips as he closed his eyes.

"I'm was uhm, thinking about going out for a bit," she said.

"For?" he said, looking to his notes, seeming a bit uninterested in the reason, but asking anyways.

"We're, running a bit low on food and I also wanted to look at the shops again that we looked at before."

There was no answer from him, just a slight nod.

Molly grabbed her coat and slipped out the door.

Molly was walking along the street, admiring the shops that she hadn't gotten a chance to really look at before when she was here with him. She was also enjoying the free time to just let herself not worry about anything serious. She didn't think about Sherlock, or the network, or the name. She was having a good time looking around even though she didn't really buy much, until she got to one store.

It was the jewelry store. She felt a little pathetic buying herself jewelry, but she hadn't been able to get anything for so long. She splurged and bought the pearl bracelet she had been staring at the first time they went around looking. She put it on before she had even left the store, admiring its beauty. She was constantly letting it catch her eye as she went around looking, proud of her purchase; it was beautiful.

When she was done with her shopping she decided that she was going to keep walking around and still enjoy the fresh air. She knew she should be back soon though; someone was going to have to force Sherlock to eat, because he was probably too distracted in his mind palace to even think about that.

Something didn't feel right now though, almost like she felt she was being watched. She wrapped her unbuttoned coat tighter around her as she walked along, a bit more quickly now, but was pulled off of the sidewalk into the slim alley.

A hand covered her mouth to stifle any screaming as he pushed her up against the wall. She was franticly trying to fight back, but her back was facing him, her chest pressed up against the wall. A moment later, she found her head meeting the brick wall she was pressed up against from a blow to the other side of her head. Her eyes rolled up as she fell on the ground, where she lay unconscious.