They ended up at Angelo's, which didn't surprise Molly at all. Angelo seated them at Sherlock's usual table. He handed over two menus, but Sherlock left his on the table.

"Not eating?" asked Molly, as she looked at him over the top of her menu.

Sherlock shrugged. "I'll just have some of yours, it'll be enough."

Molly giggled "What if I don't want to share?" She raised her eyebrows at him and then ducked her head back down, scanning the menu. Sherlock paused for a moment, trying to decide if she was serious or not, and decided she wasn't.

Molly ordered some chicken alfredo and a glass of wine, and asked for a second plate for Sherlock. Sherlock asked for water. Molly bit her tongue, trying to leave him alone. If she was going to accept Sherlock as he was, she was going to have to start now.

"Any interesting cases lately?"

Sherlock shrugged. "A few little ones. Nothing taxing. I was spending considerable time trying to solve my own personal mystery."

"Oh - OH." said Molly, thankful that the waiter had chosen then to show up with her wine. She took a gulp of it, then realized what she looked like and set it down again. "I imagine that's been very troubling for you."

Sherlock looked at a spot just over her left shoulder. "It has been. It might still be. But at least there's progress." He was very uncomfortable discussing this. Molly reached across the table and patted his hand.

"We'll figure it out. Together."

Sherlock smiled then, one of his rare real smiles that she was only used to seeing when there was a murder around. It was nice to see it in a social setting.

The food came. Molly moved some of the pasta onto the other plate and put it in front of Sherlock. "I don't care if you eat it or not, but in case you decide to live dangerously, there it is." Sherlock nodded, and picked up his fork, moving the noodles around as they spoke about everything except what they were doing here. John and Mary's baby. The latest gossip at St. Bart's. The time Sherlock had an entire cake delivered to Mycroft's office just to mess with him.

"I didn't sign the card or anything. Just sent a cake. I got a text 30 seconds after the delivery was made, telling me I was being childish."

Molly laughed. "Childish, yes. But funny nonetheless."

Molly pretended not to notice when Sherlock started eating the pasta, almost without noticing he was doing it. She ate and finished her wine and kept the conversation going. Things were going very well when she laughed at something Sherlock said and dumped a forkful of noodles all down the front of her shirt.

She excused herself to the bathroom, embarrassed at her mishap. Sherlock pulled out his phone and texted John.

We're on a date. -SH

A DATE?

Yes. Dinner, even. I ate. She's pretending not to notice. -SH

Did you guys talk?

At Baker Street. Not here, just conversation. -SH

Sherlock? Don't screw this up.

I'm trying. -SH

He pocketed his phone as Molly returned to the table. They finished up their food, Sherlock left plenty of money to pay the bill, and soon they were walking outside. Sherlock stopped and turned to Molly. "Should I see you to the tube?"

Molly takes a deep breath. "If you like. It's early yet, I could go back to Baker Street with you for a little while."

Sherlock's stomach did flips at this, and he was quiet for a moment as he processed this. He blinks, and says "Okay."

They walked back to Baker Street in companionable silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Sherlock unlocked the door and lets them in, and they made their way up the stairs. Sherlock sat down in his chair, and indicated Molly should sit in John's. "It doesn't see much action, I'm sure it's lonely."

Molly wondered how much of that is the chair, and how much of that is Sherlock missing John. A busy surgery and a baby doesn't leave much time for adventures, although she knows Mary works hard at giving John time to be with Sherlock. She's angry at him for having to keep the secret of his Fall from everyone, but she knows he lost a lot of things while he was gone, too.

She settled herself down into John's chair and met Sherlock's eyes. "How was that?"

Sherlock looked down and picked at an invisible piece of lint on his trousers, considering his answer. "I like spending time with you, talking to you. We share a love of science and learning and I'm sure very few other men appreciate your morgue humor."

Molly smiled.

"Dinner, you know, it's food. I have to do it occasionally. I much prefer take out here, at the flat, where no one worries about how much of it I eat, although everyone at Angelo's knows by now that my appetite is not indicative of the food. It's one of the reasons I try to eat at the same places. They know me."

Sherlock looked up at meets Molly's eyes. "But if I have to eat, and eat in public, eating in public with you made it better."

He blushed, and looked down again. Molly could see how hard he's trying, and part of her wants to just go cuddle up to him and let him stop talking. The other part just continues watching him. Seeing Sherlock discomforted is a new thing, and she hates to admit she's enjoying it.

The subject drifts again, and soon they are back to science. He tells her about his studies in chemistry, and how he learned very quickly he could teach himself faster than any University could. "My parents were displeased. I was the baby, and Mycroft, being so much older, was already moving up the ranks of public service. They were afraid they'd end up supporting me permanently because I couldn't get along with anyone. How could I hold a job? So of course, I had to make my own job."

Molly tells him about how her mother's death when she was young made her want to be a doctor, but how she realized as time went on that she didn't want to work with living patients, she wanted to help explain deaths.

Eventually, it was getting late, and Molly started yawning. Sherlock offered to pay for a cab to take her home, and as she was very tired, she accepted. They walked downstairs, but stopped just inside the door.

Sherlock looked down at Molly, at her smiling, happy face. He found it hard to believe he had ever done anything to make that face look any different than it looked right now, and he made a promise to himself that he would try very hard not to do it ever again. He knew he'd screw up, but not intentionally. Not any more.

Molly watched his face, and finally slipped up onto her tiptoes and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips.

Sherlock froze as a warm heat cascaded through his body. With a quiet growl, he leaned down, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, and kissed her, hard. She moaned, and opened her lips to him. Tentatively, he snaked a tongue across her lips, tasting, exploring. She met his tongue with hers, and brought it back into her mouth, enticing him to follow her. Their kiss deepened as their tongues danced around each other. Sherlock pressed himself against Molly who slowly backed up until she hit the wall.

Molly broke the kiss first, staring up at Sherlock. "Where did you learn to kiss like that?"

Sherlock smirked. "You don't want to know."

Molly considered this, remembering Janine. "You're probably right."

She wiggled out from between Sherlock and the wall. "Right. Cab. Home."

Sherlock turned and watched her. "Cab. Yes."

Molly could see the longing in Sherlock's eyes. She watched him for a moment. He looked skittish and she couldn't help but remember that emotionally, he was about 15. With the body of a man who had denied himself basic physical comfort for his entire adult life. He was strung tighter than his violin strings.

He watched her. For once, he knew when to keep his mouth shut and let someone else think.

She turned her head and looked at the door. She looked at her watch. She looked back at Sherlock.

"Sherlock…" she started.

"I'm not expecting anything. Whatever you're comfortable with."

Molly knew that wasn't quite true, but she knew he wouldn't push her, no matter what he wanted. She trusted him.

She took a deep breath, glanced at the door one more time, and turned to Sherlock, smiling into those blue eyes.

Then she turned and walked back up the stairs to the flat, her heart pounding in her chest.

Please don't kill me. This chapter did not go where I planned it to go, and by the time it got there, it was too long to keep going. I promise I won't leave you waiting for long, but I do want to make sure the next chapter is absolutely perfect. Because reasons. :)

Once again, thank you all for letting me take you on this adventure and being so kind about it.