Hi All. So here I am back with another Sherlolly romp. After two crime stories my poor brain needed a rest and to indulge in some light, fluff...and here it is, I hope you like it too.

It's set some time after Season 3 and is rated T initially though knowing me that will probably change to an M later.

I ought to point out that I own known of the characters, for them we owe it all to ACD, Moffatt and Gatiss.

Chapter 1

'Could you just pass me that Petri dish, Molly?' Sherlock held out his hand whilst keeping his eyes glued to the microscope.

After a minute when nothing had happened he looked up, annoyance written all over his face.

He looked around the lab to see where she had got too only to spy her on her mobile phone in her office. He was about to get the Petri dish himself when he noticed the set of her shoulders, the tight way she was gripping the phone and the frown on her forehead. Molly Hooper was upset.

Sherlock shrugged it off fetching his own equipment with a huff of irritation.

A couple of minutes later Molly re-entered the lab still clutching her mobile phone and looking pensive. Sherlock didn't move his stance, hunched over the microscope but his eyes did flick up watching her for a moment.

After a few minutes he couldn't stand it any longer, curiosity winning out.

'Your upset Molly, it's interfering with you assisting me. What is it?'

'What...oh,' Molly looked surprised as though she had forgotten Sherlock were even there. 'It's nothing don't worry about it.'

'Obviously it's not nothing you've been stood there staring into space for nearly five minutes. And whilst I'm not worried I am curious, you aren't the sort that dwells on personal issues in work time. So once again, what is it?'

'It's just...It's stupid, it's nothing.' Sherlock just lifted an eyebrow and waited.

Molly sighed, her shoulders dropping. 'I know it seems a while ago but I bought tickets to the Annual Bart's Dinner Dance when I was still with Tom. We were going to learn how to dance and go along. I was really excited because I've never been...I mean I've never had anyone to go with. Jim talked about going but, well, you know how that ended.' Sherlock winced at the thought of Molly going anywhere with Moriarty.

It was at this point that John entered carrying three cups of coffee, he looked between the two of them before heading over to where Sherlock was sat.

'So just get someone else to take you to this dinner dance, it's not hard.' Molly rolled her eyes at this comment snapping, 'I've tried, really I have. My cousin, who wouldn't even be a date just desperation, was my last hope and he's just told me he's out already on that night. It's no good I'll just have to see if I can sell the tickets on, I'm not going by myself that would just be miserable.'

'John can take you, can't you John?'

'What, no, I don't think so. Not sure Mary would be happy with me attending a dinner dance without her, even if it is just with Molly. No offence Molls.'

Molly smiled, 'it's OK John I get it.'

There was a pause and Molly made to move towards her lab bench.

'Fine, I suppose I'll have to take you then.'

There was silence as two pairs of eyes swung suddenly towards Sherlock. 'I'm sorry what did you say.' Molly wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly. She almost giggled at the look of open mouthed shock on John's face.

'I said, as I'm sure you both heard first time, I will take you.'

'You...go to a dance,' John had finally got his voice back and was grinning at Sherlock in amazement. 'You didn't even dance at my wedding.'

Sherlock looked down at the bench and cleared his throat, 'yes, well there was no one to dance with then. I was hardly going to enjoy leading Mrs Hudson round the dance floor was I!'

'But...we'd have to go to lessons and everything beforehand.'

At this Sherlock scoffed, 'don't be ridiculous Molly, I already know how to dance, I can teach you. How long do we have?'

'You...you can dance?' Said John.

Sherlock turned to him narrowing his eyes, 'I'm sorry John, is there a problem with your vocabulary today or are you stuck on repeat. Yes, I can dance. I was taught at school and was very proficient.'

'Oh..well..I suppose that would be good then. It's a week on Saturday, proper black tie event, though I'm sure you already have the right outfit what with you being...errr'

'Me being what exactly Molly?' Sherlock was starting to feel a certain level of exasperation with them both, what was the big deal.

'A smart dresser, that's all I meant, you already wear very formal clothes so I'm sure you'll own black tie stuff.'

Sherlock sighed, 'yes, you're right I do own black tie stuff, as you put it. Right, come over to Baker St. tomorrow after your shift and we'll start the lessons then. I was going to say dress for comfort but you always do.'

Molly wasn't quite sure whether to be insulted at that last line or not but she just nodded before making her way to her desk.

An hour or so later when John had said goodbye, as he trailed after Sherlock, Molly let out a long breath.

'Oh My God, looks like I have a date with Sherlock Holmes.' Granted she knew he didn't see it like that but it was the nearest she had ever come and she was determined to make the most of it.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly had worked herself up into a bit of a state by the time the first lesson came around. She had never really spent that much time alone with Sherlock not since the day shortly after his return when they'd 'solved crimes' together. Yes, they spent hours together at Bart's working alongside each other comfortably enough but that was work and this was...well Molly didn't quite know what it was but it wasn't work.

She bit her lip as she knocked on the black, front door. She could almost sense Sherlock looking down on her from his flat, prickles moved across the back of her neck but she didn't look up. Instead she listened to the sounds of Mrs Hudson making her way to open the door.

'Oh, hello Molly dear, we haven't seen you here for a while. Are you here to see Sherlock?'

'Yes, he's expecting me, we're...err...that is he's teaching me how to dance.'

'Oh that's nice, he's a very good dancer, I remember being quite surprised when he took me out on the dance floor one time when we were in America.'

'Oh I didn't know you'd been to America with him.'

'No, well he flew out to help make sure my husband was convicted of his crimes. Horrible man, my husband that is, not Sherlock. Anyway, he's in so you might as well pop up.'

Molly ran lightly up the stairs and made her way into Sherlock's home. She always loved coming to visit. He had such an airy apartment all high ceilings and space with an old world charm to it. It was quite masculine but still cosy, she would fantasise sometimes about cuddling up with him on a winter's evening in front of the open fire before...but no, it wouldn't do to remember that fantasy. At least not when the object of it was right in front of her.

Sherlock saw the blush that spread across Molly's face as she looked up at him but he was beyond wondering what had caused it. He was quite used to her blushing and avoiding eye contact with him on occasions.

'Good, you're on time, I take it there was nothing interesting coming through the doors of your morgue to divert you.' He openly looked Molly up and down before sighing.

Great thought Molly we haven't even started and I'm already feeling like a lab specimen. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her but she knew she would never have the confidence to ask him. No, confidence was not the right word, she knew better than to ask him because she strongly suspected she wouldn't like the answer.

Molly would have been more than surprised though to learn what exactly was going through Sherlock's mind. Yes he was deducing her, it was such an automatic reflex of his that he couldn't necessarily switch it off. He saw all the normal things he knew about Molly. An only child of a broken family, intelligent, compassionate, all the signs of her profession. He liked the simplicity of her looks, the naturalness. He hated women who were too made up, covering up their inadequacies with make-up and hair dye.

He approved of the practical way she dressed. He acknowledged that whilst the layers and patterns didn't flatter her obviously petite frame they were vital when working in a cold environment. With some quick lessons he was confident she would make a good dance partner, she was small and light and when she wasn't feeling self conscious she could be really graceful. He knew he needed to try to make her relax in his company but to be honest making people comfortable around him wasn't his strong suite.

'OK let's begin. You can hang up your bag and coat over there. Would you like a glass of wine, I have white or red?' He thought he might as well make use of alcohol to help along the process of relaxation.

'Oh...erm. Yes, white please.' Molly couldn't help being shocked at him offering her a drink. It made her internal mantra of this is not a date all the harder to maintain.

He made his way into the kitchen to pour the wine and Molly took the chance to check him out as he passed. Tight trousers, check. Claret coloured slim fit shirt with buttons straining to hold it together, check. Curls, check although he'd obviously just had his hair cut as his style was a little shorter than he normally wore it, she quite liked it. She blushed again at the thought of being physically close to him hold it together Hooper, come on you're a grown woman, you can do this.

She smiled at Sherlock and took a sip of her wine before following him back into the front room. She was surprised he hadn't moved any of the furniture.

'Don't we need to make some space if we're going to be dancing?'

Sherlock shook his head. 'Oh, there'll be no dancing tonight. I doubt you'll be ready for that yet.'

'Oh, why?' Molly felt a little let down, she'd been looking forward to swirling round the room with him. She suspected the image in her head was a little out of kilter with reality but still.

'First things first Molly. Put your wine glass down and stand in front of me.'

Molly took another gulp of the wine, for Dutch courage, before standing in front of him, feeling self-conscious all over again.

'No, no, no Molly your posture is all wrong. I know you're used to slouching over dead bodies all day but you need to stand up straight, elongate your neck and eyes up not down.

Molly did as he asked, looking him shyly in the eye as she did so feeling that blush spread across her cheeks again.

'Good, better. Now stop frowning and definitely stop biting your lower lip. You need to look at me as though I am the most beautiful thing you have ever seen, shouldn't be too much of a stretch for you. I will endeavour to do the same.'

Molly winced at the obvious disparity between them. Without realising she cast her eyes down, her shoulders slumping slightly.

Sherlock shook his head in irritation. He used his finger to lift her head until she was looking at him once more. 'Whatever I implied with my last statement I'm sorry. I am not trying to hurt you in any way, I'm trying to teach you. Now elongate your neck. You are blessed with a very attractive neck for a dancer so make the most of it. And smile, we'll work on making it look real another time. There, much better. Now you need to hold that expression and look just over my right shoulder as we dance. More wine.'

Sherlock was desperately hoping that the wine would help them both get through this, it was proving harder than he had thought. Was Molly really so unconfident in herself around him? He had never meant for that to happen but then he never really meant to insult anyone, it just sort of happened, his truth seemed to be someone else's barb. If he looked at Molly objectively, as a woman, she really was very pretty, he knew he'd always found her physically appealing. Her features were quite symmetrical and her eyes, the opposite of his, were warm and showed her caring side.

He took a large drink of his own wine as they got back into position. 'Let's try this again, posture, neck, smile, good. Now put your right hand into my left... palms together.' He held out his left hand and was surprised by how small Molly's hand felt in his. Her skin was soft and warm and as he closed his hand over hers he was surprised to feel a surge of protective emotion run through him.

He frowned slightly as he looked down at her. Daft, he was just feeling the effects of the wine that was all. He moved his left hand around her body to cup her shoulder blade feeling the rough wool beneath his hand, he frowned again. 'Hmmm you'll need to lose the cardigan next time. Maybe wear something more appropriate, a camisole top or something of that sort. Now put your left hand on me...no, on my shoulder. Your fingers should face my neck so place them on the seam of my shirt.

'That's it, now you move one step to the right so that as we dance our feet and knees don't clash. Head up Molly, you don't need to look at your feet to do that.'

Molly was trying to not be distracted by the feel of her hand in his, his hand on her back and her hand on his shoulder. She couldn't remember ever standing so close to him and he smelt amazing. She knew her heart was racing and hoped he couldn't tell. Why did he have to be so fucking gorgeous? She had never known anyone else to cause so much reaction within her.

All of a sudden he let go and stepped back, picking up his wine and taking a sip as he looked over the rim of the glass at her. 'Right, shall we try that again. It should all come as second nature when we actually take to the dance floor.'

When Molly left the flat later on that evening she was a bit tipsy and definitely feeling a bit more comfortable around Sherlock. They had made plans for another practice session the following evening and he had promised her that this time there would be actual dance steps and music. Molly hailed a cab and hoped that her sleep wouldn't be too filled with dreams of Sherlock. Her hopes did not become reality.

Well, I'm excited to hear what you all think about the opening chapter so don't disappoint me. The next chapter will be up in a couple of days, Friday at the latest.