Lost in the mists of time when I first started writing this story, I must have had something that inspired me to write about Sherlock being multi-lingual (a polyglot) but I'm damned if I can remember what it was. Anyway, as you know I've been absent for a while and I thought it was about time I came back with something, even if it is only 3 or 4 chapters long.

Before we get on with the chapter, I'm going to come clean and admit that I am not a linguist myself (beyond a smattering of French) so I have taken to the dreaded Google translate for this and can only apologise if the translations are rubbish. If it's your language and you want to send me a correction, please do and I'll swap it out what's there. And for you as readers I have added a translation in brackets so you know what Sherlock is saying (even if Molly doesn't).

I just hope that you've missed me as much as I've missed you guys xx

Chapter 1

It was a month after that phone call when it all started. Molly was in the lab working on her files, with Sherlock sitting about ten feet away at his favourite microscope, checking on his cultures. When his phone rang, Molly didn't pay much attention, but she did the moment he started to speak.

'Ciao, grazie per avermi richiamato. Volevo solo sapere su quale treno era salito.'

(Hi, thanks for ringing me back. I just needed to know which train he got on.)

There was a pause whilst he awaited the answer to whatever it was he'd said and then he spoke again.

'E tu ne hai la prova?'

(And you have proof of that?)

'Va bene grazie.'

(Alright, thanks.)

Molly swallowed and tried to tamp down the sudden rush of hormones that seemed to have flooded through her body at hearing him speak what she thought was probably Italian.

As Sherlock put his phone back in his pocket, he must have noticed something, because he frowned as he caught her eye.

'Molly? Is something wrong?'

She shook her head and hoped he couldn't see just how aroused she felt. For a second, she started to bite her lip and then stopped herself, that really wouldn't help.

'No, no… nothing's wrong. Umm… was that Italian you were speaking?'

She definitely saw his eyes narrow suspiciously as he looked at her.

'Yes, a case I picked up from Gavin. I just needed to check an alibi. Chap said he was in Milan at the time of a murder and, well, it appears he was.'

'Oh, OK.' Molly paused but couldn't help adding. 'I didn't know you spoke Italian.'

At that he smirked and raised an eyebrow.

'I speak a lot of languages Molly. I believe I'm officially a polyglot.'

'A… a what?'

He chuckled. 'Shakhs yumkinuh altahaduth bieidat lughat' When she just looked confused, he grinned and carried on. 'Someone who can speak several languages. That one was Arabic. I learnt it when I was a teenager. It seemed a useful language to know.

'How… how many do you know?'

He tilted his head, and she could tell he was probably totting the answer up in his head.

'I know at least 20 fluently and another 30 or so in part, some are derivatives of others, or similar enough that I can get away with being understood. How about you Molly?'

'Me,' she shrugged. 'A bit of school French and even less German. I can ask for two pints of beer in Greek though thanks to an old neighbour. I always found the sciences easier, so never took any languages after I was 14. I suppose I regret it a bit… but I could never… I mean, I have no idea how you can know so many.'

She was in no doubt that she was sounding a little breathless, and she was certainly seeing Sherlock in a whole new light. She had figured he would know a few languages but had thought it would be more like two or three. Of course, she had always been very much aware that he was intelligent, but this just seemed to cement it in her head and all of a sudden, he appeared to be sexier than ever. If he hadn't been in the room with her, she would have groaned with frustration.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Molly's reaction to hearing him speaking Italian had not been lost on Sherlock, but he had certainly been surprised by it. The way she had looked at him, with such breathless awe, had reminded him all over again of how she felt about him. He'd always known it, and ignored it to some extent, but there had been no ignoring it since that phone call; the one inflicted on them both by his sister.

He'd been able to push it to the back of his mind for the first couple of weeks. Things had been so bad with his family that he'd devoted all his time and energy to them, but now his life was getting back to more of a semblance of normality he couldn't ignore the 'problem' of Molly Hooper any longer.

He was in love with her, that was very clear to him now. But he had no idea how to broach it with her. After hearing from John why he'd done what he'd done, Molly had let their friendship just carry on as it had always been, but he knew he didn't want that any more… he wanted more, so much more. He just didn't know how to ask for it. But maybe he didn't have to ask in English.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

It was the following day when she saw Sherlock again. Just seeing him reminded her of how aroused she'd felt the day before, and she blushed as she remembered the dream he'd inspired. The trouble was she'd woken up even more frustrated than when she'd gone to sleep, and her lips twitched with the desire to kiss him.

Instead, she took a deep breath, and gave him her widest smile.

'Morning Sherlock, How's things today?'

'Bonjour Molly, ça va très bien. Et toi?'

She couldn't help but giggle. 'Umm…ça va bien, merci.'

'Tu es très belle ce matin, j'aimerais pouvoir t'embrasser.'

(You look very beautiful this morning. I wish I could kiss you).

Sherlock knew he was taking a risk, but he didn't care, part of him wanted her to understand him. He saw her cheeks flush, and her eyes dilate but there was no recognition there. He knew he could say it in English, but he found himself enjoying the build-up… the anticipation. It wouldn't be long now… days at most now he'd made his decision.

Her hands fluttered and then wrapped around each other as she shrugged.

'Sorry, you've already gone beyond my knowledge. What was it you said?'

He smiled. 'Nothing of much importance, just how beautiful the day is, rendu encore plus beau par ta vue. (Made even more beautiful by the sight of you.)'

He asked about the experiments he'd left with her the day before and for the next few minutes he forgot about his plan as he quizzed her on the results, the two of them working out what they should try next. As ever he was amazed by just how easy she was to talk to, and how much they seemed to have in common. His friendship with John meant the world to him, but it was more abrasive and challenging. Molly was like a balm to his soul, his safe haven. He hoped that someday, he could be the same to her.

He picked up his coat and turned to her as he pulled it on.

'Molly, haluan olla yksi henkilö, joka saa sinut tuntemaan olosi turvalliseksi, mukavuudeksi. Söiletkö kanssani illallista? (Molly, I want to be the one person who makes you feel safe, to be your comfort. Will you have dinner with me?)'

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. 'Now you're just showing off. What language was that?'

'Finnish. I'll give you a clue. Would you like Chinese or Italian?'

Her face lit up, and he felt a warm glow of satisfaction in his breast.

'Oh, you fancy coming around to mine for a takeaway?' She carried on when he nodded his head. 'Umm…Chinese please.'

'OK, I'll pick it up and be at yours for 8. Nähdään myöhemmin, rakkaani (see you later my love.)'

As he left the room Molly couldn't help but smile happily to herself. This business of him coming over to hers was still quite a new occurrence. It had only happened twice before, but she loved spending time with him away from Barts. She couldn't resist fooling herself into treating them like dates. She knew Sherlock didn't feel that way, but it was just too tempting. Their friendship definitely felt as if it had moved to another level, becoming closer since all that business with his sister.

She knew just how much of a shock it had been to Sherlock, and he seemed to be needing company so much more. Anyway, she was more than happy to spend extra time with him, especially when he bought the meal.

As she sorted out her paperwork she wondered if she could get away with wearing her new summer dress. She still, futilely, wanted to look nice for him, but didn't want to scare him off by coming on too strong.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock arrived at Molly's bearing the food and wondering if he'd be brave enough to finally admit his feelings.

As she opened the door, wearing what was obviously a new dress, he felt his heart literally skip a beat. If she'd been paying attention, she would no doubt have seen very obvious signs of attraction from the flush on his cheeks and the dilation of his eyes, but she was too worried about covering up her own attraction to see his.

'Dobryy vecher, lyubimaya. Ne uveren, chto kogda-nibud' videl, chtoby ty vyglyadel luchshe. Yedinstvennoye mesto, gde plat'ye budet vyglyadet' luchshe, budet na polu vashey spal'ni. (Good evening my love. I'm not sure I've ever seen you look lovelier. The only place that dress would look better would be on your bedroom floor).'

He couldn't help but chuckle at his own joke and he saw Molly flush and frown, no doubt thinking he'd insulted her somehow and he was quick to reassure her.

'Don't worry, I was being very complimentary to you in Russian. That dress really does suit you, Molly.'

At that the flush became a blush, and he grinned happily as she turned away from him to go into the kitchen; knowing that for once he had made her feel good about herself. He wondered how else he could compliment her.

'By the way, I thought the way you carried out the autopsy on that last murder victim in the Simmons case was exquisite.'

This didn't seem to evoke quite the same reaction in Molly as the dress compliment, because she just turned her head and stared at him quizzically.

'Ahhh…what?'

'I… I just meant what I said. I thought you did a really good job with that autopsy.'

She narrowed her eyes as if she was waiting for the punchline, and he tried to give her a disarming smile. In the end she seemed to accept it and nodded her head.

'OK, thanks.'

He thought it best not to add that he'd recently found watching her carrying out her job quite arousing. He was tempted to say it in Chinese but irritatingly found he couldn't remember the word for autopsy… he'd have to look it up later.

As they dished up the food and ate it side by side on Molly's three-seater settee, they fell into an easy conversation which included catch ups about mutual colleagues and friends, discussions about the experiments they were working on together, and Sherlock's thoughts about Molly's latest peer reviewed paper. It had surprised her at first that he read them, but she accepted it now, and always welcomed his comments, not afraid to challenge him where she disagreed.

The evening eventually began to draw to a close. He saw Molly yawning and glancing at her watch, and he knew he should leave.

He started to sit up, when he noticed a dash of hoisin sauce just underneath her bottom lip. Without thinking he leant in, gently taking hold of her chin, and swiping his thumb across the spot.

He immediately, and unexpectedly, realised that his body was reacting to the touch, even as Molly's breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes were wide and confused, and he just found himself wanting to close the distance and kiss her. Should he?

He leant in a bit more, his eyes searching hers.

Soll ich dich küssen, meine Molly? Würden Sie das begrüßen? Deine Lippen sehen so weich und einladend aus. (Should I kiss you, my Molly? Would you welcome that? Your lips look so soft and inviting.)

It was frustrating then, that it was at that exact moment that his phone rang. They both jumped in shock and seemed to spring apart.

'Sorry, I'd better get this, it's Lestrade.'

Molly nodded and gathered up the plates, taking them into the kitchen as he spoke to the Detective Inspector. As he heard the details of the case he felt his excitement rising; two bodies, with seemingly identical injuries and M.O's., found on opposite sides of the city.

He hung up and stood, gathering his things, as he called through to Molly.

'Gotta go Molly, double murder. Can you do the autopsies first thing?'

She reappeared from the kitchen and nodded. 'Of course.

He saw her smile as she looked at him.

'What?'

'You look excited. I swear you're the only person I know who gets excited about murder.'

'I know, it's ridiculous isn't it. Why doesn't everyone? The puzzle, the challenge, the break from the boring.'

He opened the door and turned back to her.

'Until tomorrow then, Molly.'

She's made her way forwards by this point, and so he bent his head and kissed her cheek. As he did, he reached around her and plucked her phone from the pocket of her dress.

'Ó Molly, níor cheap tú i ndáiríre go bhféadfá é seo a fháil anuas orm an ndearna tú?'

When he finished speaking a disembodied, computerised voice spoke from the phone.

Language Gaelic, translation Oh Molly, you didn't really think you could get this past me did you?

He pressed the button to turn off the translator as Molly huffed in frustration, and he let out a laugh.

'Anois agus mé sábháilte, tugaim faoi ndeara duit Molly, nuair a chríochnóidh mé an cás seo pógfaidh mé thú i ndáiríre agus níos mó. (Now I'm safe, I swear to you Molly, that when I finish this case, I'll kiss you for real and more.)'

She pouted and it made him want to kiss her even more.

'I wish to God I knew what you were saying Sherlock.'

He waggled his eyebrows and grinned. 'Yes, but where's the fun in that. Au revoir.'

He heard her giggle as he made his way down the corridor, along with her parting, 'au revoir Sherlock' but then his mind turned to the case; he suddenly had a great incentive to solve it.

That's Chapter 1 for you and I hope you like the concept and where it's heading – as usual let me know and I'll be back soon with more xxx