Food trigger warning? If you're Squeamish about cooking you may need to pass by this one. Also my apologies for taking so long. This summer has pretty much left me as a solo parent to two highly active children while my husband got a huge new contract. And since I write on phone I've had constant distractions from the kids to play various games (I'm side-eyeing you, Pokemon Go). Seriously though, I've tried to reason with them to let me write and they for some reason do not care that mommy wants to write and people are asking her for in some writers Unsuremess And boom. No updates. But I'm working on me. Fall and early winter are already looking to be hectic, but I'm giving it my all. The comments and notes sent to me have been a huge motivator. Every new follower has pushed me all that much harder too.)Also this chapter was directly inspired by another of Umeko-Sherlolly's sets of Victorian Sherlolly. Specifically the kitchen set.

The late afternoon sun poured she stood alone in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up past her elbows and an apron on over her striped work dress while her hands were deep in a cooked chicken. While cooking was not part of her new duties of employment it was still a task she volunteered. I fact, she performed a vast majority of her former tasks due out of boredom and as she had argued with Aunt Martha to keep up appearances of a maid she would need to in fact be a maid. The dear hadn't liked the idea but at the end of the day she did still need help. Besides, it wasn't as if she had had an opportunity to be called to work at her other vocation. For the time being she was content to work as she had since her employment began. It wasn't always going to be emptying chamber pots and dusting cobwebs, after all. Another grin overtook her face again, just as it had at the oddest times in recent day. So content she was to here! She even began humming an old ditty her father used to sing to her as she allowed herself to be engrossed in the simple task of removing the meat from the carcass.

Aunt Martha had cooked the bird for supper yesterday. All day it had filled the home with a delicious, aroma but the chicken hadn't even finished cooking when a knock sounded on the front door.

Softly, Molly chuckled to herself at the memory. Oh how amusing that reintroduction had been! She'd been sweeping the entryway when the determined sounding knock came on the door. Upon opening it Molly had come face to face with the unforgettable mutton chops of the one and only Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade; a man she knew from several visits he had paid to her Father's mortuary over the years. He, however, clearly had no remembrance of her as he merely looked at her, nodded good afternoon before launching into announcing himself as if they hadn't ever met before inquiring whether Mr Holmes was in residence at the moment.

She had always heard that people, (the male of their species in particular) were blind to anyone in service but to experience such blatant ignorance herself left her amazed and a bit amused at the man's nonrecognition. Molly had led him up the stairs to where Holmes and Watson had been discussing the good Doctor's newest publication and made the announcement. After announcing Lestrade's arrival she had then done her so called maids duty to ask if anything else was needed. Holmes who had sat watching the interactions between the detective inspector and herself seemed to have determined the unspoken connection and with a look of mischievous amusement filling his eyes made the request for tea and biscuits.

Molly bobbed her slight curtsy before departing the room without another bit of attention from the three gentleman. Molly made her way back into room to deliver the tray setting it down on the table beside the doctor. The inspector was explaining the details of a missing wife of some rather important sounding citizen but Holmes had his eyes on the the tea set as she prepared three cups exactly how each gentleman preferred without their telling. On and on he went, pausing only for Molly to hand him his overly sweetened tea pausing only to thank her, unaware that he had not been asked how he preferred it.

"Will that be all, sir?" She asked softly. "Yes, I believe so. Thank you, Molly." Mr Holmes had smiled showing her his amusement for just the briefest of moments before turning his attention back to Lestrade, "do go on. I know you have more to tell. Spit it out, will you man!" The visitor wore a perplexed expression as he looked from his cup to Holmes then to her before returning to look at his sometimes colleague with a puzzled look.

She had become so engrossed in her memory, particularly that of that smile he'd given her before she left the room, that she failed to notice that she was no longer alone in the kitchen. "My, but you are in a cheerful mood this afternoon, Molly." An amused voice spoke out from behind her. Twisting her neck Molly saw Mr. Holmes leaning with arms crossed on his chest and one leg crossed the other foot balanced on the toe as he leaned against the door frame. His unique face looked irresistibly charming in his current good humor so relaxed and completely at ease. In her surprise Molly dropped the carving knife she was using sending it clattering to the plate below her. "I do hope I'm not interrupting you." He spoke through a light chuckle.

"No sir. Of course not. What can I do for you, sir?" Molly found herself asking, feeling very foolish indeed for being caught unawares.

For a brief moment he looked at her before seeming to come to a decision, "you can call me Holmes for starters Molly. It wouldn't be untoward, As all my other associates do." He sauntered near her, eyes bright as the sun filled sky. Just as dazzling too. So captivating that she stumbled a moment trying to remember how to speak. "Thank you, that's very kind of you. But if it's all the same to you I'd prefer to keep with the title of Sir. Else wise I fear I may then forget myself and that would never do. Best I continue to address you as Mr Holmes and sir" A cheeky grin helped calm her nerves of refusal. "Sir"

"Ah, yes. A very sound reasoning, I must concede. One should never fault another for using sound logic. After all, I shouldn't want you to become careless. We've much work to do, you and I. "

"No, no indeed. What can I do you now sir? Has… has a need for my skills come up?" She inquired eagerly.

Chuckling again, Holmes moved closer still into the kitchen, coming to rest his hands just on the other side of the table she was working at. "You seem almost keen for a murder to have occurred, Molly." His voice rang full of mock censure as he clucked his tongue in disapproval before he broke into the most glorious of smiles. One that made her chest tighten and her stomach flutter. He leaned in, almost as if admitting a guarded secret, complete with a lowered conspiratorial whisper. "It's a sentiment I myself often share." Oh his smiles made her feel queer then the way his voice rumbled through her made her feel as if she had been struck by lightning.

"Oh no! I only meant that-" face aflame she started to apologize. She truly did not wish for someone to die- only anxious to get to working again. And with him once more.

"Never fear. I well understand your frame of mind. Times when there is no interesting cases are especially tedious and leave me restless and in a most cantankerous mood. But never fear, dear girl. Humanity is certain to fail it's morals sooner rather than later." Then without ever breaking eye contact with her m his hand reached into the to the bowl of chicken between them before popping a bite into his mouth, eyes brightening as he savored the bite. "Delicious." Molly felt another dizzying current of attraction through her and she wished she could turn away from him, but felt nearly as if she were trapped in his own gaze. Had he meant to do this to her? Enter a flirtation with her simply to grab at handfuls of chicken?

Continuing his advantage with her distraction, Holmes stole yet another bite. Then another. "Oh no! Stop it now, you!" Unthinking she swatted at his hand smacking him as if he were a naughty schoolboy sneaking a treat. Not so unlike Archie. Only his wasn't a child she was dealing with. It was after all still her employer that she has just hit.

Oh god.

Fortunately, the man found her reaction amusing and completely un-daunting as he went again for another mouthful of chicken faking her out reaching around her other side. "Stop that you! I'll not have enough to make the pie we've got planned for dinner if you keep that mess up." Molly fixed her sternest look on him, one that made him slow down, if only slightly. "Come now, Molly. I haven't eaten in two days and that chicken is mouthwateringly good. Do not deprive me, poor wretched,starving man that I am!"

The man was undoubtedly now turning all his charm on her and it was... Oh it was impossible to say no to him. "If you're hungry grab you may grab apple there by the sink. I'll finish the pie and then fix you up a sandwich. That is if there's any chicken left over after you've already had quite a snack. Agreed?" She arched her brow up at him and then realized she was also waving the knife at him while she spoke.

Drat.

Sighing, as if she'd asked him to complete the most tedious of tasks the impertinent man nodded in contempt but stood to move to the counter grabbing an apple from the tray they lay on tossing up and down twice before biting into it. So like Archie, Molly thought again. Or perhaps that's where the lad had learned the habit. He did so idolize the man after all.

Molly expected him to wander off after he got his promise of food, and yet he remained apparently content to stay in the kitchen for the time being as he not leaned himself against the sink eating. After several bites, he spoke again, watching her from the side as he rested against the sink. "Lestrade genuinely seems to have no idea whom you really are."

"No?" She looked over at him casting an eyebrow up as if to say 'oh well'.

"Although, he was very curious about the 'lovely little thing' we'd hired." He took another bite and managed to roll his eyes at the same moment. Against her will and consciousness, Molly felt her heart constrict at his dismissal. It shouldn't matter one tick what Sherlock Holmes or Gregory Lestrade or anyone else for that matter thought of her physical appearance... But it did a tiny bit she hated to admit to herself. "Was he now?"

"Oh yes. The man is rather fond of many a pretty face normally. Never fear though. He kept speaking of you, saying you reminded him of someone that he just could not place. He may be a moron at times but he does occasionally redeem himself in the end. This may be one such fine occasion. Besides, you managed to also leave an indelible impression on him with your tea 'trick'. The man was congratulating me on finding such a novel housemaid, if you can believe it. Wanted to know where we'd stolen you from " He tilted his head mischievously and smiled. "I told him that he has yet to see all the remarkable things that our Molly could do."

"Sir!" What a great number of scandalous ways that sentence might be taken. She flushed hot with mortification at the very thought! But also another thrill... Our Molly. Such pride he felt for her! Oh Stop it you great ninny, she chastised herself. Just stop it, now.

"Oh no, not you too. I assure you, Watson has berated me enough about my careless words and all their many, many potential implications while we were on the case. On and on he went in his lecture.

But he will place you eventually, mark my word. You know it as well as I do that he will see you at some point and know you to be Miss Hooper, formerly of Hooper's Mortuary and not simply Molly. It is merely a matter of time."

A matter of time. "And do you think he will accept my work? Even as a maid? Do you believe he will still listen to my findings as he once did?"

For a moment Holmes stoked and seemed lost in his thoughts but eventually nodded once to her in agreement. "If he was able to see use me despite the wretched state I had been in at the beginning of our acquaintance than I should not think him too opposed to being abject to your profession. Prior or current. He is a good man after all. And a damn fine officer." Then as an absolute afterthought he mumbled a "do forgive my language."

Wanting to change the subject Molly had inquired after the whereabouts of Doctor Watson. "Oh he fancied himself lonely and has taken a lady out to supper for some much needed 'tea and sympathy' no doubt. I shouldn't expect him home till tomorrow."

Molly stilled her perpetration and looked at him again "You can't mean that he has a... a-"

"A lover?" He supplied with an enviable amount of nonchalance. After a another bite of his fruit, Holmes seemed to be considering a thought. It took him another bite to ask it however. "You seem surprised to learn he has a lover. Why is that? I never took you as the type to hold strongly to puritanical beliefs- else you could never have worked with the dead as you have. Besides, most females seem to find the good doctor rather irresistible more often than not. Do you not think him as handsome and charming, as the others do?"

In her flabbergasted state she blurted out the truth, "he most certainly isn't my idea of a handsome man." Blanching she worried then that her denial had been a bit too obvious, especially when she stood so in the shadow of the all seeing man before her now. For surely, surely he must see that she found no one as charming and as alluring as himself. It was also now occurring to her that it was only the two of them alone in Baker Street and together. Rather than try to explain. Instead she sought to change the subject. "Mrs Hudson should be home soon, I should think." Molly stated, as means to segway their conversation into safer harbors.

"Hmmm." Sherlock murmured, in thought. "Oh no, I'd be entirely shocked if she were. She has a standing appointment that she never miss on the second Tuesday of each month with a certain merchant that sells her what he claims are his own particular discovery of herbal soothers.

"I doubt that cannabis oil he sells is capable of doing half the wonders he claims but the herbal soothers do seem to help with her pain. They've also helped her appetite come back which is a good thing for us all. More puddings. Although those are known to bring Mycroft around more often. But all in all, Mrs Hudson will take her time returning home and will do doubt come home with arms bulging full of delicacy she has procured on the way." He went on before taking another bite

"...Oh." Molly awkwardly laughed a slightly more nervous laugh. "Yes. Yes of course." Hadn't Aunt Martha mentioned she had a few extra stops to make herself before leaving? The thought occurred to her then that her mental clarity must be off to to how distracting the man before her looked with the rare unguarded expression he wore. But then it changed and narrows on her and she felt positively hunted. "I wonder about you Molly, humanity is susceptible to a great number of character deficiencies. You've seen some of mine in the time of our acquaintance; Watson has his Lovers, Mrs Hudson has her soothers... but what vice have you?"

"I..." She paused and puzzled the query. "I don't think I know of any yet. Unless you count finding great pleasure in reading."

"Which I do not." He was quick to dismiss.

No, of course you wouldn't, not in comparison to strutting around nude and needing complete silence while you lie about in the mornings. She sighed, more wistful than intended. "Then... I don't think I know it yet sir."

"Perhaps soon enough you'll have the opportunity to find one. You get an afternoon off soon I imagine.." Holmes began then to get an odd, far off look about him. "Do have care to choose well. Vices have a way of carrying one further than one could ever anticipate."

"I shall do my best." She said seriously. For some reason though she couldn't bear to finish their conversation on such a serious note. "I'd thought to perhaps take in the theater."

"Ah, yes. Well, that's still not what I would consider a true vice although do make sure it's a quality show you see, not some unspeakably awful modern comedic opera, Molly. By god, that would be unbearable torture to have to hear the ludicrous antics of Gilbert and Sullivan in this house."

With a laugh she answered "Well... we all do enjoy silly things." Her smile beamed up at him. " Lowly minded people that we are."

"They do don't they?" He considered his apple, taking one final bite from it so too was Molly with her job with reading the meat. She went to the sink to pump out some water to rid her hands of the greasy residue, swiftly hissing as the lye from the bar of soap she used bit into the small cuts so frequently found on her hands these days. "Are you hurt?" Holmes immediately turned grabbing her hand to see what could be wrong.

Hastily Molly tried in vain to remove her hand. "Oh it it nothing. Nothing! Just some silly soap finding its way into a cut. Surprised me this time is all. I shall be fine." She pulled again, but he wouldn't release her hand, only drawing it up closer to his eyes. "I will. Think nothing of it."

"Your hands are positively worn." He sounded oddly surprised at the notion. As if he had forgotten that she were still performing tasks as a laborer and not one of the fine ladies a gentleman such as he must know. Embarrassment flooded over her anew but battled with pride. She worked with her hands and would not be ashamed of that. "It is a part of the job, sir. I am quite alright. Quite used to it,actually. It just took me unawares this time for some reason is all."

For a moment Sherlock seemed to consider something before lowering her hand and releasing it leaving her feeling ridiculously bereft at the loss.

These strange moments, these feelings; they were dangerous. She knew it and how inappropriate not to mention fruitless such ideas would be. Sherlock Holmes was known to proclaim himself married to his work. And even if he were a gentleman in need of a wife he would never even consider courting someone like her. Which only left one other path; a path she wasn't prepared to let her mind dwell on.

"Well I have some work to do... I shall leave you now." Swiftly he moved to leave, leaving Molly alone once more. This time when she started to hum her song was a bit more reserved than the happy tune from before but as she moved on to mix the vegetables she had chopped with the chicken she found peace in the process. A busy mind has not time to dream of what can never be...

With a heavy sigh she got back to work.

Mindful to keep her thoughts on the chicken pie and nothing else.

That night, as she yawned her way down the stairs she had all but forgotten all the strange time spent with her employer earlier in the day. It has been a good day. Honest work and a belly that was full from supper. It was more than many had she knew. Her mind was worn as well from doing more mathematical equations with Archie after supper. Her body too, was aching for the rest that her bed would give. Sighing she reached the small room that was her sanctuary and pulled off her boots and gown, hanging it. As she rounded back to remove the damnable corset she saw something out of place on the table top beside her parents picture. A small tin along with a note. Curiously she lifted the lid from the tin finding it filled with a heavy thick salve. Sniffing at the contents, she was surprised at the pleasant smell of almond oil and lavender mixed with the unmistakable scent is beeswax. It smelled rather divine.

Moving to the note she lifted it up and immediately noted the familiar paper Mr Holmes used in his correspondences and on it a note he had clearly left for her to find.

Molly,

I find that I do not like seeing those in my employee in pain. This is a proven remedy that I've concocted for you to use on your hands. It should help. Do take care of yourself for I have a great need for you yet. - SH

He had made this? For her? She took another whiff of the salve admiring it's pleasant aroma all the more. Hastily she readied herself for bed anxious to use the product. As she settled herself in to bed she once more reread the brief note before dipping a finger into the tin before smoothing it over her hands and wrists. Then, once the candle had been extinguished she lay down with her hands beneath her face, the soothing scent leading her off to a restful sleep.