Hey, I'm back. Hope you guys had a good weekend with lots of chill out time. So glad that you're all still enjoying this fic so without further ado shall we crack on?

Chapter 3

Inside the black cab Sherlock deferred to Molly when it came to telling the cab driver the address.

'I don't have any money on me. Have you got enough?'

'Yes, I can use a card to pay.'

He nodded his head and then looked out of the window.

Molly watched him for a moment, trying to imagine what this must all feel like for him. 'Does it seem familiar? The streets I mean. I just...I don't know how extensive your memory loss is.'

'It's strange. I know London and the landmarks and streets but it feels like knowledge from a book rather than living memories. Does that make sense?'

She nodded her head. 'And have you had any other flashes of memory since yesterday...when you kissed my cheek?'

He glanced at her and saw her blushing and it made him wonder once more about how she felt about him. He wanted to question her about it further but not now...not in front of some random cab driver.

'A couple. As I made my way back through the hospital I had a clear memory of having walked that route before...leaving to go to a case but I couldn't remember the details of it. And another last night. I heard a commotion outside as someone flatlined and I remembered being wheeled in with medical staff shouting instructions, talking of prepping for surgery. It can't have been for this injury...' he gestured towards his head and Molly shook her head.

He tilted his head questioningly. 'You know when that was?'

She shrugged a little. 'Maybe. You were shot in the chest, about 18 months ago. It was a horrible time, touch and go as to whether you'd survive.'

He touched the material of his shirt just over where Molly knew he'd got his scar. 'So that's what this scar is from. It doesn't sound like I'm very careful in my line of work...or do I have some kind of death wish? Any other bad habits that I should be aware of?'

He must have seen Molly wince because he held his hand up. 'You know what don't tell me. I think I'd rather live in blissful ignorance for a bit longer.'

She shared his smile and then glanced outside as they turned into Baker St. 'We're nearly there now. Home sweet home.'

He looked out of the window. 'Remind me again what the landlady is called?'

'Mrs Hudson.'

'And does she bake biscuits for me?'

Molly giggled. 'Yes, I believe she does. Why? Do you remember that?'

'Not as such.' He tapped the uninjured side of his forehead. 'Mind palace remember.'

Molly paid for the cab with Sherlock promising to pay her back and they were soon stood outside in the drizzle.

Molly put her hand into her coat pocket and pulled out a set of keys that she held out to Sherlock.

'Do you want to let yourself in?'

Sherlock took them and made his way up to the door. He dropped the hold-all to the floor and placed his hand on the wood.

'It's the same as the door to my mind palace.'

He closed his eyes momentarily but then reached up for the knocker, moving it so it sat slightly askew. 'I do this to see whether my brother has come round...he likes to straighten it.'

Molly nodded. 'Memory or mind palace?'

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked almost reverently at the door. 'Memory...I think.'

He put the key in the lock and pushed the door open and as they were making their way inside there was a shout from Mrs Hudson's flat. 'Sherlock, Molly, is that you?'

The door at the end of the corridor was pushed open and out she came bringing with her the scent of fresh baking.

'Sherlock, look at your face...honestly you'll be the death of me with all these endless trips into hospital. Come here.'

Whether he wanted it or not she reached up and pulled him down into a hug which he hesitantly returned.

'Now what's all this that John and Molly have been saying about you not remembering anything? I don't believe a word of it...not you, not with your mind. Do you remember me?'

Sherlock gave Molly a nervous glance and then he shook his head. 'No, not really. But I do have items associated with you in my mind palace...an Aston Martin? Plates of oat and raisin biscuits, some herbal soothers and for some reason there's a pair of handcuffs and a pole dancing pole.'

Mrs Hudson laughed out loud at that. 'Oh I was very good in my day. It played havoc with my hip in the end though. As for the baking, you and Molly go and get yourselves settled upstairs and I'll bring you up a tray of tea and biscuits...your favourite. I'm sure your memories will come flooding back to you once you get settled back into your flat with your own things around you.'

She bustled off back down the corridor and Molly indicated towards the stairs. 'Your flat is up here.'

She followed him up and wondered again how weird it must feel for him to be taken to strange places and to meet people he didn't recognise and not be able to remember. She knew he was feeling a lot more unsettled than he was letting on and she was determined to support him as much as she could.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

He paused at the open doorway to his front room and took a deep breath as he looked around. The smell of the room seemed to transport him through a montage of memories. Most of them were unremarkable, vague images of being in this room, eating, thinking, playing something...

'Do I play an instrument?'

He stepped into the room to allow Molly to enter and come up alongside him. He glanced down at her watching as she placed his suit bag onto a comfy looking settee.

She nodded her head and gestured towards the left hand window.

'Yes...a violin. You're very good.'

He shrugged off his jacket and slung it, along with his hold-all, onto the coffee table and then he slowly walked around the room looking at the pictures on the wall, picking up the odd piece of paper from the desk.

'How does it feel? Being here I mean...'

Sherlock shrugged. 'Strange. Familiar and yet not. There are vague images tugging at my consciousness but I can't seem to pin them down to anything specific.'

She took a step closer to him. 'Maybe Mrs Hudson is right. Maybe being here, living amongst your belongings will help.'

It was at that moment that they heard his landlady making her way up with the promised refreshments.

As she entered the room Molly took the tray from her and carried it over to the kitchen which seemed to have a microscope and more experiments set up. She started to pour out two cups of tea as the older lady spoke to him.

'Now, I've put your post on the mantle piece, there wasn't much. What would you like me to say to any visitors?'

At this he frowned. 'Visitors...what kind of visitors?'

'You know, your clients...or maybe you don't know. Tell you what I'll just send them away for now. Better that you get some rest, let that bruise go down a little. You don't want to scare people off. Right well I'm just downstairs if you need me. Look after him Molly.'

Molly smiled at her and said goodbye and he made his way over to take the cup of tea she was holding out to him. She'd popped a couple of biscuits onto the saucer and he absentmindedly picked one up and took a bite as he looked around the kitchen. It was all so frustrating...why couldn't he just remember?'

He said as much to Molly and she placed her hand on his arm to try to comfort him. He could feel the warmth of her palm through the thin material of his shirt and it reminded him that he wanted to talk to her about their relationship. He was sure there was something there. He knew it wasn't logical but it felt like it would be the key to him getting his memories back.

He perched on the edge of the kitchen table and put his cup and saucer down.

'Molly...'

She glanced at him and he found himself noticing lots of inconsequential details about her...only child, recently showered, toast for breakfast, eyes dilating as she looked at him...physical attraction then, nervousness and concern...this must be what they talked about. They said he used his powers of observation to work out people and solve crimes.

'Yes?'

Now it was him feeling nervous...laying himself out there knowing he might be rejected.

'Listen, I know in the hospital that you said my feelings for you were one sided, unrequited, but...but I can't help but feel that you have some attraction for me. Have we...I mean, were we ever together? In a relationship?'

At this he saw confusion writ large across her face and she shook her head.

'No, Sherlock, you've got it all wrong. You don't have feelings for me, it's the other way round.'

He was lost. 'What do you mean other way round?'

He saw a blush spread across her cheeks and she ducked her eyes away from his in a way that made him want to use his finger to lift her chin back up to meet his gaze.

'I mean it's me...I'm the one who has unrequited feelings about you. You just see me as a friend...nothing more.' She rushed on. 'And that's OK. I understand...I like being your friend.'

He felt utterly baffled and disconcerted. He knew how he felt. There wasn't much that he was sure about at the moment but he had known how he felt about her from almost the first moment he saw her. So why would she not know that?

'Is there some reason that I'm not aware of why we can't be together? Anything?'

He saw her hands flail for a moment as she took a deep breath. 'I...I don't know. Umm...you always said that caring wasn't an advantage...that you were married to your work. Not that you ever said that to me directly...John told me. I've never really known you to have a real relationship.'

He joked at the last line. 'What? But you've known me to have fake relationships?'

He laughed a little but the laugh died at the look on her face. 'I've had fake relationships?'

She bit her lip and gave him a grim smile. 'Yeah...sorry. You got engaged once...for a case.'

He sagged a little. 'The more I hear about myself the less I like it. Do I have any redeeming qualities apart from being intelligent?'

Molly did giggle at this. 'Of course you do. You're great looking and you've got a hot body.'

He raised an eyebrow at this and she laughed even more. 'Sorry, I couldn't resist. You're passionate about your work, focused, intense. You don't suffer fools gladly but you'll put your life on the line for your friends. You try to cover it up but you're a good man Sherlock Holmes.'

Her impassioned speech took his breath away and he knew that no matter what happened with his memories he wanted to be with her. He took hold of her hand and pulled her ever so slightly closer and he saw her breath catch in her throat as she shyly looked up at him.

'Whatever else I was, I was a fool for not allowing myself to be with you.'

There was a moment of stillness between them as they looked at each other before he slowly started to lean in to kiss her.

Sorry, am I being a bitch ending the chapter there? Not really a cliff hanger but it will have to do. Hope you like the way it's all progressing and at least they've started to have the discussion about Sherlock's feelings. As ever let me know what you think and I'll be back in a few days with more xx