AN: A little uni!lock meet-cute! ❤

It was the last night of finals before graduation. And two weeks from Monday, Molly would begin her residency at St Bart's. She wasn't particularly worried about not passing; she was top of all her classes and a bad grade on a final exam would hardly make a difference. But she was a studious woman and she refused to do anything less than her best.

Which is why she was poring over three years' worth of notes on a Friday night, alone in her flat. All her peers and friends were out celebrating and would no doubt be hungover the following day.

She was in the middle of marking a rather important finding when there was a thump outside her window, followed by a muffled shout.

Molly's head whipped up and her heart jumped into her throat.

'John!' A man's voice whispered loudly. 'Damn it, John!'

Drunks. Molly groused.

Her heart slowing, she dropped her pen and stood, making her way over to the window. She grabbed the top of the frame and was about to slam it shut when she happened to look down and saw a pair of hands gripping onto the ledge.

Two very real hands attached to the very real body of a curly-haired man. Who happened to be dangling right outside her window, three floors up.

With a stifled shriek, she jumped and smacked the back of her head against the bottom of the open window.

'Ow ow ow ow!' She grimaced and rubbed her head.

The man looked up in surprise. 'Ah. Hello.'

Molly was caught off-guard by his piercing blue eyes… or were they hazel? And for a burglar, he was rather overdressed in that expensive-looking coat. His curly hair was thick and lush, begging to be touched, and a girl could cut herself on those cheekbones!

'Might I ask for some assistance?' His dry tone belied his amusement.

Molly flushed dark red at being caught admiring the would-be burglar. 'O-oh, erm…' She bit her lip. On one hand, she should help this man before he fell to his death… or severe injury. On the other hand, she was a young woman alone with a strange man-burglar hanging from her window ledge.

'I am not a burglar,' he said and grunted, his fingers starting to slip. 'And I promise not to impugn your virtue, if you will just help me up!'

Deciding to deal with the potential consequences later (and with the can of pepper spray in her handbag on her bed), Molly grasped his forearms and tugged on the thick wool material. How her tiny frame could have been any assistance to him, she didn't know, but eventually the upper half of his body made it past the windowsill. Molly gave one last mighty tug and he came tumbling inside right on top of her.

'Oh!' She exclaimed, suddenly finding herself beneath a very solid man, his face right over hers, their noses touching.

'Thank you for your assistance,' he said, his breath brushing her mouth.

'Any time,' Molly replied breathlessly.

He smirked, an action that Molly had never found attractive on a man… until now. He got off her and stood, extending a hand down to her. 'The name's Sherlock Holmes.'

She struck down the ridiculous disappointment that welled up when he moved off her and accepted his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. 'Molly… Molly Hooper.'

If it was possible, she blushed darker when he didn't release her hand, but grinned widely and said, 'I'm in your debt, Molly Hooper.'

'Oh, no, I-I'm happy I could help, don't worry about it,' she stammered and pulled her hand back to tuck her hair behind her ear.

'Sherlock, you twit, where are you?' A hushed, angry call came from outside.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'I'd best be off then. My keeper calls.'

Molly tried to keep the disappointment from her face as he walked around her toward the door. 'Right, of course. Erm, be safe. And try not to hang from any more buildings. I don't want to see you on my slab any time soon!' She giggled, but then her eyes widened in horror as she realised what she had said. 'Oh, sorry, no! I-I just, I'm a specialist registrar, or I will be once I pass my finals tomorrow morning, and bodies that come in, dead ones, they'll need to be autopsied on the slab, obviously, a-and god, I'm just going to stop talking now.' She winced and covered her face, wishing for the ground to just swallow her up whole.

'Coffee. Black, two sugars.'

Molly froze in surprise, then slowly lowered her hand. Sherlock was watching her intently, a slight smile on his face. 'Sorry?'

'It will be most efficient for you to bring coffee with you tomorrow, bypassing the need to meet in a public place and deal with the ambient noise of the average stupid masses while discussing intelligent topics.'

Utterly at sea, Molly asked the only question her jumbled thoughts could put together. 'Erm, where then are we meeting?'

'221B Baker Street. 4pm.' He flipped up his collar and winked. 'And obviously if you're buying coffee, it's only fair that I pay for dinner.'

With a flourish of his coat, he spun on his heel and disappeared, her front door opening and slamming shut.

'Wait a minute! I don't even know you!' Molly sprinted after him. She threw open the door and rushed out into the hall, only to find it completely empty.

With a frown, she went back inside and shut the door, leaning against it.

A mad man hanging from her window had just asked her out on a… date? Yes, it was definitely a date, she decided. And she would be just as mad to accept it! She didn't know him or anything about him, except that he was running about at all hours of the night hanging from window ledges.

She would be crazy to go out with him… Wouldn't she?

Only one way to find out.

A slow smile spread across her face.

To Baker Street it is then