whclocked asked mizjoely Could you possibly thinking of an AU where Molly and Sherlock met when she was fresh out of med school?

Also Louise Brealy quote: "I am quite good at putting things down on a pad and nodding."

Since this is a flash fic I've decided to reopen that collection and add this story to it. Rated a very light T/K+

"You're quite good at that."

Molly looked up at the sound of that sexy baritone rumble, straight into the eyes of the most striking looking man she'd ever seen. "Um, what?" she managed to stammer out after a moment.

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he grinned at her. "That," he said, gesturing toward her notes. "Putting things down on a pad and nodding."

Her confusion turned to annoyance. "It is part of my job," she said defensively, clutching the clipboard to her chest. "I'm still learning, I need to take notes- "

The stranger's expression went from cool amusement to consternation. "No, no! I didn't mean…it wasn't an insult, I just - damn, where's John when I need him? He's the one who's good at this kind of thing."

Molly's brow furrowed in confusion. "What kind of 'thing'? Who's John?" Damnit, why were the gorgeous ones - even the socially awkward gorgeous ones - always taken?

"My partner," he explained. When her shoulders sagged in disappointment, his eyes widened. "No, not that kind of partner - we're flatmates, we work together sometimes. On cases. He's a doctor, I'm a consultant…"

He trailed off into silence, leaving Molly even more cnfused than before - until suddenly the penny dropped. "D'you mean Dr. John Watson? Are you - are you Sherlock Holmes?"

He nodded, appearing relieved that she'd figured it out without him having to explain further. "And you're Molly Hooper, doing your surgical rotation after having graduated top in your class a year early, and with plans to continue as a Specialist Registrar, one cat, father deceased, former smoker…"

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Molly interrupted him to ask before he could continue the list of facts he'd either badgered out of Dr. Watson or deduced as was what their mutual acquaintance claimed was his particular skill.

"Black, two sugars," Sherlock blurted out. "And you take yours light, extra cream. The canteen is awful, but there's a place afcross the stree and down a block that isn't too bad. See you there at the end of your shift in, mm, fifteen minutes." He gave a decisive nod and turned to leave, black coat sweeping out dramatically behind him.

He ruined the effect by immediately stopping, hard enough that his shoes squeaked on the lino, and turning back to her with a panicky expression on his face. "That was an invitation, right? I didn't get it wrong? You weren't trying to diagnose me or anything?"

She smiled reassuringly. "Nah, I save that for second dates. See you in fifteen!"

She watched as he strode down the hall and vanished through a pair of swinging doors. She saw him turn back with a smouldering look that essentially exploded her ovaries, smiled at him weakly, and clutched her clipboard even closer to her chest.

So. That was Dr. Watson's infamous flatmate and friend, eh? Just as bad at social interactions as she'd heard. Just as intense as she'd heard. Even more gorgeous than she'd thought he would be - and he'd come by just to meet her, if her own powers of deduction could be trusted.

Oh. How lovely!

The next fifteen minutes, she knew, were going to absolutely crawl by.