The sharp tings and clattering on the roof of the home is loud and obvious as Molly paces back and forth near the windows facing the street. Sherlock's case had taken more than a day, so he had been in and out of Baker Street yesterday and today. Molly gets increasingly worried since she hasn't gotten a text from him. Not only that, but they are beginning to have one of the worst winters London has seen in a while. This ice storm isn't only inconvenient, but also harmful to anyone who remains on the streets at this point. Hail is one thing, but ice? Some of the fallen ice could easily sting like shrapnel if it hits the wrong place.

Nearly chewing a hole through her lower lip from biting it nervously, she rushes back over to the sofa and scoops up her mobile for the eight time in a half hour, calling him once again. Once again, it goes to voicemail. Fearing the worst, she tries John's phone, with the same result. Next, she calls Mrs. Hudson's landline. Dead.

Now Molly really begins to panic. She knows she can't exactly leave her home due to the nature of the storm, but she has to know if he's okay. So she take drastic measures and calls the New Scotland Yard business line.

"Hello, yes, may I speak to Detective Inspector Lestrade please? I'm a friend…yes...Molly Hooper. I'll wait. Thank You."

Pacing rapidly in her sock clad feet, she sighs and waits for the familiar voice on the other end of the line. When she hears it a bit of relief washes over her.

"Hello? Molly? What's wrong?"

"Greg! Oh, thank God I got you. Look, Sherlock, John, and Mrs. Hudson's phones are all going to voicemail. I know Sherlock and John were on case. I don't know the details of it, but I'm getting really worried. I haven't heard from him since yesterday morning and now with this storm…I just want to be sure he's not hurt. He always texts me. Can you have someone check Baker Street?"

"Oh God, yeah of course. I heard from them this morning, but I haven't since then. I just figured Sherlock was up to his tricks, running around the city looking for clues and such. I'll send a car. Don't panic, Molly."

"Okay thanks Greg…I-I'll wait for a call back. Talk soon." Molly hangs up and let's out a breath she was apparently holding. Moving to the kitchen to make tea, she can't help but think the worst after everything she knew he had gone through in the past. He could be kidnapped, injured, or worse.

Molly grabs a lemon to soothe her knotted stomach and sighs, cutting it. When the water is boiled, she prepares the tea and squeezes the lemon juice into it, tossing the lemon in the bin. Curling up on the sofa, she tries to watch some crap telly to distract herself, but her thoughts still wander to Sherlock and his safety. The loud pangs of ice hitting her roof have yet to subside, and it seems it is only getting worse.

Toby meows at her feet and hops up on the sofa with a bit of difficulty since he's still so small. Molly smiles slightly and strokes his fur, scratching behind his fluffy ears gently. "Oh Toby…I hope he's okay. I'm glad I have you to keep me company, kitty."

Just then, Lestrade calls her and she immediately clamors to her phone, snatching it up and answering quickly. "Greg!?"

"Hey, Molly. Look, everyone is alright, they happened to be at Baker Street when the storm hit, and they lost power there. Those dummies spent all their time fooling on their mobile until they realized they didn't bring any chargers for them and they died. Landline isn't working due to the power failure. But Mrs. H has candles and they're okay. Sherlock was worried about you too."

"Oh thank God…are you still there? Can I talk to him?"

"Uh, yeah. One sec." There is a bit of fumbling until she hears Sherlock's voice.

"Molly? Molly? Are you alright?"

A smile spreads across her face and she relaxes. "Sherlock, yes, yes I'm okay. I'm still at my house. I was so scared for you…and then when I couldn't reach you of course my stupid head jumped to the worst possible thing and…oh I'm just so happy you're safe."

"I'm alright. I'm actually getting Lestrade to take me to your house in a moment." Molly hears Greg exclaim that he doesn't want to leave until the storm dies down and Sherlock whisperingly arguing with him. She giggles softly.

"Sherlock, as long as I know you're safe it's alright. Though, of course I want to see you."

"I'll be there soon. Love you, bye!" He quickly hangs up and she snorts. It's so typical of Sherlock to boss Lestrade around, but if it will get him to her house faster, of course she won't scold him this time. She wants to see him as much as he wants to see her. It's crazy how fast he has changed and just how much they have bonded. It's nuts how they have even slept together already, after years of thinking that he didn't think of her as attractive. Smiling fondly, she prances happily back into the kitchen to make him some Earl Gray tea.

Moments later, Sherlock bursts through the door, his Belstaff half over his messy mop of curls, before he tosses it off and over the coat rack haphazardly. "Molly!"

"I'm right here, Sherlock", she grins brightly and runs over and into his arms. Sherlock lifts her off her feet and hugs her close to his body, nuzzling her neck. Molly let's out a content sigh, then breathes him in, entangling her fingers into his curls.

"Oh Molly…my Molly…it's only been a day and a half, and I nearly went mad. I missed you", he murmurs admittedly.

"I missed you too Sherlock." She brings her head up to grin at him before capturing his lips with hers, snogging him until the kettle screeches grotesquely for their attention.

"Mmhh…damn", he murmurs.

Molly giggles softly and strokes his cheek gently, tracing down his jawline. "That'll be your tea. I'm sure you're chilly."

"Well, yes." He follows her to the kitchen and shuts the kettle off then scoops her up into his arms. Molly squeals in surprise and wraps her arms around him, beaming from ear to ear.

"Yes?"

"I think tea can wait, my love. I'd rather warm up another way."

"Sherlock Holmes, you flirt", she smirks and laughs softly as he carries her down the hall towards the bedroom.