Today was a boring day. Molly sat her bench staring at the pile of paperwork seated in front of her. What she wouldn't do to have a nice cadaver to dissect.

The door to the morgue opened; Molly frowned. Mike was on leave and Josh never came back after that day, so her fellow pathologists were out. The Yard team had left a few hours ago on a minor case, Sherlock following because he was bored- so they were of the list to. Maybe it was Mary? No, she'd been swamped with work for the past week, barely having time to even smile at Molly.

Molly hopped of her stool and straightened herself to greet this new mystery guest.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Few hours earlier…

The man in the grey suit sat back in his leather chair, awaiting the unannounced phone call that he was certain was about to come. He smirked when the sudden ring from his smartphone confirmed his thoughts.

"I was expectingyou." He said softly into the phone "to what do I owe the pleasure?" he heard a snort on the other end.

"You know exactly what. You're going to tell her! I said don't." his caller's tone was angry, threatening almost. Grey Suit almost laughed.

"Why not? I am the culprit, so to speak."

"No you aren't, not entirely, and you know it. I am part of it as well."

"Only after a little silent nudge from me. Doesn't she love them?"

"Shut up." Grey Suit smirked. He had him.

"No matter what you do or say, I am going to tell her the truth." Grey Suit said confidently. He heard the sneer in his caller's voice as he replied.

"And what? Spoil this devious little scheme of yours? One that you've been working oh so hard on?"

"No, of course not. If this scheme as you put it was ever spoiled, it would all be on you. See, unlike you, I actually know what to say, when."

"What. Are you. Going. To. Tell. Her." The caller seethed. Grey Suit smirked even more.

"Like I said, the truth. Now, I really must get going- I have an important meeting with the prime minister and an even more important one directly after. Good day." Grey Suit snapped the phone shut, cutting of his caller's angry shouts.

The man in the grey suit stood up, calling for his assistant before leaving his office.

0o0oo0o000o0o

Molly was speechless when she saw him. He was still impeccably dressed in his formal three-piece suit, with his hair combed over in a parting to hide the receding hairline. His umbrella tapped against the floor, until coming to standstill when he stopped himself.

"Good morning, Molly." Mycroft Holmes greeted, extending a hand.

"Mycroft. What brings you here?" Molly asked warmly, accepting the hand. She'd met Mycroft, more than a few times after she'd gotten with his brother- sometimes for check-ups on the man-child himself, and others merely as acquaintances or at some type of over-the-top Holmes family brunch/lunch/tea/dinner.

"No reason." He answered, "Just wanted to see how my dear brother and his partner are getting along." Molly smiled.

"Of course. It's not like I have any more work to do anyway. I'd invite you over to my flat, but it may be that your, uh, dear brother will be there."

"Of course, of course. I believe this is the ideal place. Have a seat, Molly."

The two adults made their way over to the desk and chairs where they took their seats.

"How is he?"

"He's great. Just came back from a case- he got stabbed, but the wounds scabbing so it should be okay in a few days." Mycroft looked down at her and quirked the corner of his mouth slightly.

"Most would probably be traumatised if their partner was stabbed. I admire your toleration over it."

"Well, I do work with stabbings a lot."

"More importantly, how are you?"

Me? Same as always, I guess. I mean, I feel like throwing up every single time Sherlock goes on case, trying to get rid of the fact that he might not come home. But otherwise I'm fine." Mycroft looked over at her, before nodding.

"You know when I first inquired about you when the two of you first met- don't worry I did the same with everyone else he deems a friend- he told me that you were merely a quiet little worker. Almost like a mouse. When I met you for the first time, I had no objections to his statement. It seemed that even the smallest things would send you over the edge."

"Thanks." Molly interrupted.

"Anyway, now I can see just how much you proved the two of us wrong. Now Sherlock's never going to admit to that, ever, but I will. I've honestly never seen a woman as headstrong at put together as you are." Molly smiled.

"Thank you, Mycroft. I guess a little of your brother rubbed of on me." Mycroft shook his head.

"Oh no, I believe it to be the other way round." Molly smiled at that comment. Mycroft stood up, making his way back to the door. Molly followed.

"One more thing Molly," he said as he leaned against the doorframe "I've heard you've been receiving presents from an anonymous sender."

"Sherlock told you?"

"Well, no. But I know who sent them." Molly's eyes widened.

"Who then?"

"There is actually more than one. The first I will reveal to you, the others, well, they come to light in their own time."

"Do you not know of the others?" Molly asked.

"Oh no, I know exactly who they are, it just isn't my secret to give away. The first person, however, I can. He started it, you can say. Gave you the first few gifts, and supplied many of the others."

"Who was it?"

"Why, Molly, it was me." he said, before saying goodbye and leaving the morgue.

0o0o00o0o0oo

"It was your brother!" Molly cried out as she sat on her couch next to Sherlock.

"That's what he said? That it was him?"

"Yeah, but he said he only gave the first few and 'supplied' the rest. There are other people working on this."

"There are? See, I did tell you that there may be-"

"Yes, yes, I know. But I do just want to know who they are, you know?" Sherlock nodded his head thoughtfully before looking up at Molly with a cheeky grin.

"What did you do?" Molly asked carefully.

"Nothing. Get up, we're going out."

"What? Why? Sherlock that is no way to talk to you girlfriend."

"Molly will you please get up?"

"Why?"

"We're going out."

"Why?" Sherlock groaned exasperatedly before leaning down and scooping her up. Molly let out a surprised yelp.

"Sherlock what are you doing?"

"Getting you out of your chair. Now come on, we have places to be."

Soon enough, Molly found herself in a green dress, in the back seat of a black cab, next to Sherlock. She was about to ask where they were going, when they stopped outside a very fancy restaurant.

"Sherlock, what are we doing here?"
"To eat, of course." He pulled her gently out of the cab, and led her through the front doors. The restaurant was sophisticated, and so very elegant. Classical music played from a live String Quartet in the corner, and an enormous chandelier hung from the high ceiling. The floor was carpeted, and the seats to every candle-lit table were cushioned.

'Ah, Mister Holmes." A middle-aged man with a French accent greeted the couple. He was dressed in a white Oxford and black dress pants. A too-tight vest covered his shirt, and he looked very uncomfortable.

"Please, follow me to your table."

They were seated in a private booth, where a waiter served them wine before saying that their food would arrive shortly.

"Sherlock- what are we doing here? And don't say to eat." He glanced at her before taking a sip of wine. He cleared his throat. Molly was certain that she had never seen Sherlock nervous. Ever.

"Sherlock?"

"We've never been on a date." He blurted out suddenly. Molly was slightly taken aback.

"So? What's you point? Oh- oh Sherlock, is this-?"She trailed of, grinning slightly at the uncomfortable detective. He nodded slightly, taking another sip of wine.

"Your appetisers." The waiter called as he walked into the booth, balancing two plates in his hand. He set them down and explained the meal- not that Molly was listening, She was to busy grinning at the very flustered Sherlock.

"Enjoy." The waiter said before leaving. Molly immediately slid over to sit next to Sherlock. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him to her.

"Thank you, Sherlock. Thank you." She said into his neck. She pulled away and looked at him. His flustered expression was gone, and now he was grinning ear-to-ear.

"I take it it's to your satisfaction." Molly laughed, before leaning forward to kiss him chastely. She pulled away grinning.

"You're the best Sherlock."

"I must say that it was Mycroft's idea, however."

"Then I'll just have to thank him then, but still Sherlock. To do this for me…"she trailed of. She felt Sherlock raise his hand to cup her cheek.

"You're crying." He said, concerned. Molly brought a hand up to her own cheek. She felt wetness and laughed.

"Of course, Sherlock. Happy tears."

"Happy tears?"

"Happy tears." She said before kissing him again. He pulled away, grumbling.

"Emotions are illogical." He grumbled as he scooped a spoonful of risotto in his mouth. Molly laughed, before doing the same.

The second course was lamb shank with the chef's special sauce. Molly moaned as she placed a piece in her mouth. She looked up she chewed to see Sherlock smirking. She swallowed before asking.

"What?" he smirked even more.

"Just thinking of the other times you moan." Molly shook her head at him.

"Honestly, you act like a horny teenager sometimes." He slid over to her.

"Only for you." He whispered against her ear before nibbling it slightly and pulling away. Molly turned towards him and leaned in, before pushing him away from her.

"Okay, good for me. Now eat Sherlock. I want to see that plate finished." Sherlock chuckled to himself. A glare in his direction made him cut his meat a little faster.

Dessert came in (chocolate mousse with a raspberry sauce) along with a refilling of the wine.

"The food here is amazing- the prices must by sky high." She said, looking over at Sherlock.

"It is, but I pulled a few strings."

"A case?" she asked. He nodded in reply.

"Life is easy when you're with the World's Only Consulting Detective." She sighed, leaning onto Sherlock's left arm. He looked down at her, cupping her cheek, before lowering his mouth onto hers.

She kissed him back, and pushed against him as he nibbled her bottom lip playfully. She swiped her tongue over his upper lip as he felt his hand pulling her upwards. He granted her access and allowed her tongue to explore his mouth. He groaned into her as he pulled her knee over his legs.

She straddled him, still not breaking the kiss and ran her hands down the front of his shirt. He broke away for air, before trailing kisses down her neck. Molly arched unconsciously, as he got lower and lower. She moaned right before regaining her senses.

"Sherlock," she muttered trying to push him of. He didn't listen- instead he pulled her closer, now kissing the her collarbone.

"Sherlock, come one, get off." She said. Not that her bothered doing anything about it.

'Sherlock!" Molly cried out, slapping his face away lightly. He pulled away, lips bruised and eyes wide with surprise and lust, before narrowing.

"What?" he asked, irritated. He tried to get back to his earlier actions, but was pushed of by Molly. He groaned.

"Not in public." She said gently, pecking his lips. She looked down at them. Noticing their position for the first time.

"We somehow always end up in this position, don't we?" she asked. Sherlock shrugged.

"Aren't I to heavy?" she asked, getting of. Sherlock's hand on her hip stopped her.

"Don't. I like it. And you are definitely not heavy." He said softly. Molly smiled down at him and laced her arms around his neck. She burrowed her face into the crook of his neck and inhaled.

"You smell nice today." She said. She felt Sherlock's chuckles vibrate through his body and her's. In the silence, both heard footsteps coming their way, so Molly hastily climbed off and fixed her mused hair. The waiter entered to check on them, before leaving.

After tipping generously, the couple strode out of the restaurant to be greeted by the chilly London air. Molly shivered, getting used to the cold, when she found she didn't have to. Sherlock wrapped his arm around her body, enveloping her in warmth. She returned his smile before nuzzling her face into his side. They walked silently for a while, both content with each other's company.

"John's over at Mary's." Sherlock whispered in her ear, "Would you like to come over?" he asked, before taking the lobe in his mouth and sucking it gently. Shiver ran down Molly's spine.

"I don't know. A woman never follows a gentleman home after the first date." She said pointedly. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Anyway I can convince you otherwise?" Molly tapped her chin with her finger with mock concentration.

"I don't know, try me?"

"Well," he said, leading her down a street "I am not the cliché gentleman." He said. Molly smirked up at him.

"Not good enough."

"Fine. Technically, this is our second date."

"Is it?" Molly asked with mock surprise. Sherlock nodded.

"The day when we went out to see that film with the blue people and the predictable plot."

"Avatar was a movie you spoiled for me before we were fifteen minutes in and we were watching it as friends at the time, remember?"

"I don't think we were just friends when we were doing what we did after." He muttered seductively. Molly looked up rolling her eyes.

"Even so, the milestone is at three dates, love."

"I think I know what will make you oblige."

"And what way is that, may I ask, Mr. Holmes?" she said, crossing her arms and leaning on a hip. Sherlock smirked before leaning forward and capturing her lips with his. He backed her up (where did that tree come from?) and feverishly ran his hands up and down her body. To a passerby, because of her large coat, it would seem like a couple merely kissing under a big dark tree. Little did they know just what Sherlock's not-so-innocent hands were doing to her.

Molly placed a hand on his shoulder and another trailing around his back and chest. Sherlock ran his hands under her coat, and lightly trailed over her breasts, brushing slightly over them. She moaned against him.

He pulled away, panting; his lips red and bruised form the snogging and Molly's lipstick. His shirt was crumpled and he was grinning like a little boy with candy. Molly's breathing was ragged, and her pupils were dilated until her eyes were virtually black. Her face was flushed; she took a few seconds to regain her breathing.

"I think that's a sufficient enough reason." She said. Sherlock grinned, before taking her small hand in his and pulling her to the direction of 221 B, Baker Street.

0o0o0o0o

Molly had barely shed her coat before Sherlock had lifted her by her hips and pushed her against the wall. Her legs immediately wrapped around his waist as he crashed her lips onto hers, over and over again. They left her mouth, nipping and kissing every inch of her face and neck as her carried her over to the sofa. He sat her down and unwrapped her legs before pulling away.

"Hey," she pouted at the interruption.

"In due time, Molly." He grinned. He turned around to face the mantelpiece, where he picked up a piece of purple card. He handed it to Molly, who flipped it over.

She drew in a breath when she recognized the cursive handwriting.

Every woman deserves a special date- I'm sorry I never realised.

Molly looked up at Sherlock, before glancing back down at the note. She did this multiple times, her mouth open, but still in too much shock to speak.

"But- what? I mean- this handwriting- that's why it's so familiar-" Molly voiced her jumbled thoughts. She'd finally put it all together, kind of. She looked back up at Sherlock, who was standing above her, hands clasped behind his back.

"Sherlock-" she started.

"Wait," he interrupted "before you say anything, there still is another thing I have to show you."

Okay guys, we're reaching the almost end here with this story, but not quite yet. This time Sherlock really has to show her something, I promise. I'm going to try write this next chapter as fast as possible, and after that there will be one last, final chapter. Thank you all you reviewers- and thank you LaserGirl77 who actually gave me some ideas for this fic and others and for helping me through quite a few blocks- you rock

-Ash