Author's Note: Molly is amazing. Of course John is helping Sherlock and giving him advice, but Molly is Sherlock's emotional support. Sherlock, who says "the most awful things" is privileged to know someone like Molly, who is full of kindness, friendliness, compassion, and loyalty. Whether Sherlock admits it or not, he needs her.

Molly's phone began to ring. She wondered who on earth would be calling her. She got so few calls she almost forgot she had a phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Molly."

"Sherlock? Is that you?"

"Yep. Hello!"

"What are you calling me for?"

"Well I was, um... wondering if you'd like to..."

"Solve a crime?" Molly suggested.

"Have lunch." Sherlock said at the same time. They laughed. "How about we have lunch first, and then we can talk about that."

"That sounds brilliant."

"All right. Meet me at that fish and chips place near St. Bart's."

"Great! See you soon!" Molly hung up, breathless. This couldn't be happening. Sherlock had asked her to lunch! Her, Molly Hooper! She felt herself begin to blush. Elated, she got in her car to go to the restaurant.

•••

When she got there, she saw that Sherlock was already sitting at a table, waiting for her.

"I hope you haven't been waiting long," she said, sliding into the seat across from him.

"Not at all."

"Good. So what brings you here?"

"Good food, decent service. The same thing that brings anyone to a restaurant."

"No, I mean why did you ask me out to lunch? You've rejected me every time I've asked before."

"I'm not entirely sure. Ever since... you know, I've felt different. I figured the least I could do was take you to lunch."

"Well thank you, that's very kind of you."

"You're welcome."

•••

"So, how are you?" Sherlock cringed.

"Not good." He began to bury his face in his hands. "Not good at all." Unsure what to do, Molly placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. It's not your fault."

"But it is. If I had only paid more attention..."

"Stop it."

"But..."

"Just stop it. It's over, and you can't change it."

"I suppose not." He sighed heavily. "How are things going for you?"

"Not too bad, but without you, we're moving at a much slower pace." Sherlock cringed.

"Sorry."

"Lestrade thinks you're mad at him."

"Why would I be mad?"

"Well, you were working on a case he gave you when you got hurt. And you've stopped taking cases."

"No, no, I'm not mad at him. It has nothing to do with him." "Then what is it? Why did you stop?" Sherlock sighed and his eyes began to well up. "Is it really that bad? What happened?" He sniffed loudly.

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes, I suppose. Why would I need to?"

"Oh, it's just that I don't want many people to know, and I certainly don't want the press to hear about it."

"I can keep a secret. Go on."

"Well, in the crash I got a concussion, and..."

"What?"

"My IQ dropped. I'm no longer special."

"What is it now?"

"It went from 180 to 118."

"I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could do."

"I don't think there is."

"Well I want you to know, I'm here for you. You can count on me."

"Thank you, Molly."

"You come to me if you ever need anything, okay?"

"Of course." He paused. "Actually, now that I think about it..." "What?" "Ever since I've stopped consulting, I've been looking for a job. What's it like at the morgue?"

"Well, it's not too bad, but you have to be dead serious." Sherlock chuckled at that. "But no, working with cadavers isn't too hard. It might suit you well, I don't know. You have a science background, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. That should help." She thought for a moment. "Did you want to start on that now?"

"That would be great. As long as you're not too busy."

"No, I'm fine. Shall we go now?"

"Sure."

"And Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Remember what I said. If you need anything, anything at all, just let me know."