I couldn't concentrate.

I was sitting on the couch reading a book…I'd stayed up all night doing so. So, I was half delirious when at five in the morning a half-naked Sherlock made his way into the room.

'Good morning, Molly.' He pranced in shirtless, only the blue top sheet from his bed covering the lower part of his body. He had bandages in his hand, and came to sit right in front of me. It was a routine now…only normally he was dressed. I held out my hands, trying not to look, but failing miserably. I finally decided to focus on his scar. The stitches made him look like Frankenstein's monster, and when I told him so he laughed.

'Sherlock, are you wearing any clothes?' I asked, looking down at the sheet for a split second.

'No.'

'Okay.' His eyebrow rose, and a smirk was evident on his mouth.

'So, what book possessed you into staying up all night?' He inquired, finishing the last wrap on my wrist.

'Guess.'

'I never guess, Molly. I observe.'

'Then observe. Deduce. Do what you do best!'

'Well, last night you were reading Twelfth Night, which doesn't take long so it couldn't have been the sole reason you were up, and the fact that you stayed up to read it means that the book is important to you. Add that with the smell of an old book and the dust patches on the sofa were you wiped off the cover, I'd say you were reading Pride and Prejudice.'

I was stunned. Beyond stunned. I could hardly get out the words I needed to so badly…

'You're wrong.'

His whole demeanor seemed to change. 'Oh, am I?'

'I was reading Much Ado About Nothing.' I picked up the book that had made its way between the cushions.

'Hmm.' He stood up and stalked away towards his room.

John came over that morning around six, right as I was headed to work.

'Are you going in early?' John asked, noting my normal departure time at eight.

'Yeah, I have to train a girl. But, I get to leave earlier so that's a plus!' I slipped on my shoes and headed out, waving goodbye to John and telling him where I stashed the food behind the arm in the fridge.

When I walked into the morgue there was a small petite girl, maybe my age, with pale blond hair that matched her pale skin.

'Hello, I'm Doctor Hooper.' I introduced myself.'

'Mary Morstan.' She smiled, and I noted how dainty she looked and wondered if she would hold up during the process of dissecting a human.

I opened the first bag, a rather large gentleman that had clearly died of a heart attack. But, the family didn't believe so, so we had to run an autopsy.

'What do you observe, Mary?' She wrinkled her nose and stared at the body.

'Well, he's large…and looks as if he's lived a rather sedimentary lifestyle. He has a lot of cuts and bruises; even though they are old they haven't healed. That's a sign of diabetes. He was a smoker, too. If you can't tell by smell you can tell because his fingernails are yellow around the edges. That's all I see.'

Whoa, a female Sherlock—frightening. 'What would you think the cause of death is?' I asked her, seeing if she could unravel what I already knew.

'Untreated diabetes.'

'No. His diabetes was treated. His fingertips tell the story. Feel them and look closely. They are rough and have very small puncture marks.' She wrote this down on her tablet and looked back to me.

'So, what was his cause of death then?'

'That's what the autopsy is for.'

After we'd discovered that my suspicions were correct, the case was closed and we could go home. I was changing in the locker room when she approached me.

'So, how long have you been working here?' I looked at Mary again, this time she looked even daintier, dressed in a soft sundress and jacket with sandals.

'Just about six years now.'

'I guess that means you're away from home a lot.'

'Yeah, well, I have to pay the bills somehow.'

She laughed. 'True, true. Well, I know this may seem so odd, but I was wondering if you had a friend or something you could set me up with…I haven't had much luck in the dating area lately and you look like someone who has lots of guy friends.'

I wasn't sure how to take the last part of her comment, but I did happen to have a friend who was looking for a date… 'I actually do! He's at my flat right now, I believe, if you'd like to meet him!'

She looked at me for a second and then declared that we should be on our way.

John, be at my flat in ten minutes. I want you to meet someone.

-MH

Who?

-JW

The girl I trained today…I think you'd like her.

-MH

Fine. I'll be there.

-JW

Who's coming to the flat?

-SH

The girl I trained today…who told you?

-MH

John.

-SH

She hadn't stopped talking since we'd left, and we were at my flat now. When we walked in John and Sherlock were playing a board game, John yelling at Sherlock, Sherlock explaining why his conclusion was the only possible answer.

'John, this is Mary Morstan.' He looked up and for a second I thought his eyes would pop out.

'H-hello.' He stood up and made his way to her, shaking her hand and smiling.

'Hi. It's John Watson, right?'

'Y-yes that's it.'

'It's very nice to meet you.' They were still shaking hands long after it was appropriate. I sat down next to Sherlock, watching them as he was.

'God I need a boyfriend.' I said absentmindedly. Before I knew it Sherlock was off the couch and in his bedroom. Great. I went into my room, getting somewhat annoyed by John and Mary's apparent happiness. I took a shower, washing in my usual work routine, and went to sleep, not bothering to cloth myself.

I normally tried to control my thoughts about Sherlock, but in my dreams there were no limits.

We'd just the best sex of my life.

And he was lying in the bed next to me, rubbing over my now scarred wrists. Ouch. He quickly stopped, but I could still feel the pain, and it seemed to be more real than I had previously thought.

My eyes flicked open and saw Sherlock on the side of my bed, gently rubbing the pink fleshy scars on my wrist. I looked down to make sure I was covered and luckily was. 'You don't need to wear the wraps anymore.' He said.

'How is your shoulder doing?'

'It's getting better.'

'Let me see.' I sat up, wrapping the blanket around me simultaneously.

'Um, no.' He started to get up, but I grabbed his wrist and he remained seated. 'Fine.' He began unbuttoning his shirt, and pulled it off his shoulder so I could examine it. He was sitting on the side of the bed facing the wall, legs over the side. I was behind him, looking over every aspect of his wound.

I had the uncontrollable urge to wrap my arms around him. I snaked my arms under his and wrapped my arms around his middle. I laid my head on his shoulder.

I felt his head lean against mine, and his hand intertwine with mine. I could feel his heartbeat beneath my hand, it was quick, and his skin was warm. His whole upper body had taken on a pink hue, and I could feel him shiver slightly.

He turned around and looked at me, his face flushed. He leaned in and hesitated, but eventually his lips pressed against mine curiously. He pulled away after a minute and looked at me in an odd new way.

'I have to go.' I looked him over as he left, and found the source of his problem very clearly below his waist.

So, Sherlock Holmes wasn't asexual after all. I reached for my phone and sent him a text.

What's wrong?

-MH

He didn't respond immediately as he normally does. In fact, it was several minutes before he replied.

I'm fine now. Nothing to worry about.

-SH

Hey babies :) Sorry the update took so long! Between my AP English class and prom I had no time! I hope this was worth the wait though!

Please review and let me know what you think :)

Love you!

-TDM