John was only barely able to catch up them as they settled into the cab. "I've called Mary, she says Mrs. Hudson's fallen asleep, so you two better put off going to hospital until tomorrow morning."

"Oh!" Molly bit her lower lip. "I've actually forgotten about visiting her…and Mary! Oh my goodness!" Feeling terrible, she looked about to cry. "How terrible of me!"

Sherlock glared at John while trying to reassure Molly, wrapping an arm about her shoulders and grasping her free hand in one of his. Look what you've done. His narrowed eyes seemed to say to John. "John?" he prompted, an eyebrow raised. The 'Fix it' was left unsaid.

"No, no, Molly. None of that." The good doctor reassured her. "You've had a terrible fright, and I know for a fact that you've not forgotten about them. You asked me what happened to them while we were walking down the stairs, remember?" He really hated seeing a woman cry, especially when it's someone he considers a friend, and especially when said friend's boyfriend was glaring daggers at him. "I just thought you might attempt to visit tonight, and you need some rest."

Said boyfriend gave the doctor a curt nod, as if to say Yes, that'll do. "We'll visit Mrs. Hudson in the morning, and by the fact that John has chosen to delay our departure instead of getting into the cab with us, he'll be fetching Mary from hospital and will be staying home with her at her flat. It's fine." He squeezed her hand in his, and said, bending his head so that only she could hear, "Please, love." At Molly's nod, he turned and bade John goodbye, then gave the cabbie his address.

As soon as they were in 221B, Molly walked straight in to the bedroom and started gathering her things, folding her dirty laundry and taking out the few clothes she'd hung in Sherlock's wardrobe out.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked from the doorway to his bedroom, and when she looked up at him, she saw that he was genuinely puzzled.

So was she. "Uhm, getting ready?" As she spoke she continued neatly folding her clothes and stacking the still clean ones on the bed where she sat.

Her boyfriend walked up to her but kept standing, looming. "For what?" He kept looking at her hands as she folded, following their motions, and tilting his head in what seemed to be utter confusion.

What? Is he having a slow day? She thought, wondering just how much anesthetic he'd been given while the paramedics cleaned up his wound earlier in the evening. "For tomorrow." She answered, standing up to get her bag from under the bed where Sherlock had tossed it. "I have work again tomorrow, so I'll need to get my things back to the flat in the morning. I hope you don't mind me staying over again tonight. I'll haul my things over there in the morning, maybe clean up a little bit. I wonder how my plants are; I forgot to ask you to leave them with my neighbours. Goodness, I've become forgetful! That'll be first on my checklist for tomorrow."

Sherlock's eyes widened in comprehension, and then his pout came out. "No." was all he said before walking out and heading towards the kitchen.

Dumbfounded, Molly rushed to her feet to follow him. "What do you mean, 'no'?" When the consulting detective opted to fill the kettle with water from the tap instead of giving her an answer, she walked up to him and gently tugged his sleeve. "Sherlock? You'll have to elaborate, because I'm not a genius and will need your words." She looked up at his still frowning face.

Standing still, he looked at her hands still gripping his sleeve, his head bent forward so that his eyes are hidden. "Did I do something wrong? Do you not want to live here?" he asked in lieu of an answer. Hearing Molly's gasp of surprise, he proceeded quickly. "John's been showing signs of wanting to move in with Mary these past few weeks. He's been subconsciously leaving more of his things at hers: when he does his laundry, the load is less than half of what it used to, his favourite mug, which I know isn't broken, hasn't made an appearance in the past week, and he's been planning to propose to her the last two."

Molly gently slid her hand from his sleeve to his palm, and entwined her fingers with his. "Sherlock," speaking softly, she endeavoured to catch his gaze. "Are you asking me to move in because you don't want to be lonely?"

At her words, his eyes abruptly lifted to her face and his eyebrows furrowed. "No." fidgeting, he continued. "I merely posit that since he is planning to leave soon to stay with Mary, you wouldn't need to worry about the flat being crowded, or intruding on his privacy, and he in ours. I've previously expressed my desire for cohabitation. There is ample evidence that the flat itself is to your liking; you are comfortable here, and although it's a bit further away from St. Bart's, you've had no previous issues with your commute. Therefore the only reason you wouldn't want to retain residence is because I did something you are averse to and I-"

Molly, whose face had broken out into a wide smile he hadn't caught yet -he's too busy fiddling with the fingers on the hand she had in his as he was rapidly speaking-and lifted her free hand to his neck, pulling him down to her even as she stood on tip toe, cutting him off with a firm kiss on his lips. "I won't move in with you," seeing his frown get worse, she giggled and continued, "but only because moving isn't as easy as packing a bag and leaving, AND" she emphasised the last word when Sherlock looked about to interrupt, "I think it's probably too soon."

Raising an eyebrow, Sherlock parried "We've known each other for years, Molly, even longer than I've known John for. He moved in with me on the day we met. It worked out fine." He turned and pulled her into the sitting room, sitting down on the sofa and then urging her to sit beside him. Just as she settled, he turned and laid his head on her lap, looking up at her.

Molly laughed, brushing Sherlock's stray curls away from his face. "Is this the part where you tell me that you and John dated after all?"

Pouting, he huffed. "I'm serious, Molly."

Sighing, Molly leaned forward and kissed his nose. "I know, Sherlock. And, believe me, I want to…eventually." I really do. She thought. If only I could stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. "It's just…it's a big step." She added with a rueful smile.

Sherlock, seeming to read something in her expression, lifted a hand to cup her cheek. "Against my better judgement I will not push the issue. However, be assured of this: I am not one to change my mind, Molly Hooper. Especially…" He traced her cheekbone with his thumb, his voice lowering to a whisper. "… not about this." His hand moved to her nape, gently guiding her face closer to his, even as he tried to lift his head up to meet her halfway.

The kiss was both sweet and a little awkward. Just like us. Molly thought, unable to stop herself from smiling. She cradled his head with one arm, and tangled the other with his free hand. "Thank you." She whispered, closing her eyes as he deepened their kiss.

Author's Note: I apologize to everyone who have been made to wait for this story to be ended. It's far from my best work, so the positive reaction has been overwhelming. Thank you for reading, commenting, and even sending me messages. Your reactions, encouragement, and criticism became the push I needed to upload the rest of the story regardless of ... well... nastiness. I'm still deciding on whether I'm ending it here or not, it seemed a good place as any. ^_^

Nevertheless, I'l continue writing, and hope to be able to upload something soon. It might be something else entirely, it might be something that would add to this. I'm really not certain yet. Until then,

Cheers!

Liberi Ad Somnia