Molly moved as quickly as she could away from the house where she left Sherlock. The evening was advancing and it continued to cool. But she didn't care. Her whole body was still on fire.

She still couldn't quite believe it. She had kissed Sherlock. And the strangest thing about it, Sherlock hadn't pulled away from her. It almost seemed as if he had wanted to. But no, that was impossible!

Carefully she touched her mouth with her trembling fingers and still felt that sensation on her lips. Those wonderful soft lips that enclosed hers with such gentleness. Then she remembered the look on his face when he caught sight of Molly's engagement ring. He looked disappointed almost sad.

And then it came to her suddenly. She had kissed someone else. She was engaged and she had kissed a man who was not her fiancé. And she had enjoyed it. She had wanted to.

So slowly guilt began to settle in her. She didn't know what to say or do. How should she face Tom after all this?

Should she say anything at all? After all, it was a one-time thing that would certainly never happen again. Or maybe it would?

Molly couldn't think straight when she arrived at the street where her apartment was located. By now it had begun to snow and the lights of the city were scaring away the darkness.

When she arrived at her front door, she noticed that everything was dark.

`So Tom wasn't there' she thought and exhaled in relief.

She could not and would not face it today. She would much rather stay alone and think about everything in peace.

Sometime after several glasses of wine, she came to the decision that it was a one-time thing and she wouldn't tell Tom about it. She thought of how she had grieved over missed opportunities to be close to him after Sherlock's death and had simply taken the opportunity that day. Just once, she wanted to feel his lips on hers. Just once to forget everything. And then she would be able to leave him behind and start a new life with her fiancé. At least that's what she kept telling herself.

It had been about two weeks now since Molly had kissed Sherlock. The weather was gradually changing and it was getting milder. Molly managed to avoid Sherlock as best she could during that time. She had signed up for the night shifts and when she did work at Bart's during the day, she spent most of her time in her small office with unfinished paperwork.

But today was different. John and Mary had invited everyone to Baker Street to celebrate their engagement. Molly knew from John that he was going to propose to Mary, but had been interrupted in his actual plan with Sherlock's reappearance. Basically, they weren't even engaged yet, but they wanted to celebrate anyway. And they had invited Molly and her fiancé to the festivities.

Tom knew that Molly knew Sherlock Holmes but knew nothing of her feelings for him at the time. She felt a little uncomfortable at the thought of facing him today after their kiss. And then with her fiancé, too. The one she had actually cheated on with Sherlock.

A thousand questions rushed through her mind.

How would he react if he saw her? Would he call her on it, or would he ignore her completely?

One question really burned itself into her brain: Did Sherlock regret it?

"Are you ready?" suddenly asked a voice behind her.

She shook her head, as if trying to shake out all the questions and thoughts, before turning around, giving him a small smile, and then grabbing Tom's hand and making her way down Baker Street with him.

It took only a short cab ride for them to arrive. With slightly shaky legs, she got out of the cab, grabbed Tom's arm and slowly moved towards the door. It was a little more difficult to make progress than she had thought, with numerous reporters nearly blocking her path.

"What's going on here?" asked Tom, slightly confused, frowning.

Molly just shrugged her shoulders.

"Probably just waiting for Sherlock. After all, he has come back from the dead."

As she said this her heart gave another slight jump and images of the locker room and stairwell appeared in her mind's eye.

They fought their way through the crowd of reporters and continued to the door. It was not locked and so they could just walk through. Molly stopped short and dropped her arm from Tom's. Concerned, he turned to her.

"Is everything okay, Molly?"

She didn't answer. Her gaze tracked up the steps. So slowly she heard her heart pounding in her chest and visibly stiffened.

"Molly?" asked Tom further, concerned.

She startled out of her thoughts before turning to him and then nodding slowly.

"Yeah everything's okay. It's just that I haven't been here in a long time, especially after Sherlock died."

Tom just nodded in understanding, walked over to her and then took her hand in his. She looked at their clasped hands for a moment. It was an affectionate gesture and really she should consider herself lucky to have such an obliging man by her side, but she didn't. She didn't feel the same way under Sherlock's touch.

Tom gently squeezed her hand and Molly came back to reality. She returned his gentle gesture and then finally went up the stairs with him.

The door was open, just like last time. From inside they heard voices and joyful laughter. She exhaled once more unnoticed and then stepped inside. Tom behind her.

"Hello everyone!" she now greeted the people and immediately introduced them to Tom, her fiancé.

She caught sight of Sherlock at the window. With his back turned to her. Just like the last time. And again he looked forbiddenly handsome. She slapped herself for her thoughts and was grateful that Greg handed her a glass of champagne. With all her might she tried not to focus on the man at the window and then turned her eyes to the others who were talking with Tom with interest.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all,' Molly thought to herself and had to smile slightly.

All of a sudden, however, Sherlock turned around and started walking towards them.

His gaze was fixed on John, who motioned for him to go downstairs. For some reason, he tried to avoid Molly's gaze and looked down at the floor. However, when he came to stand in front of Tom, he paused, shook his head in disbelief, and eyed him up and down. John caught sight of him and looked mildly amused, while Sherlock looked more questioning and slightly irritated.

`Shit!´ Molly thought to herself as she noticed the look on the detective's face. And also when Sherlock briefly cast his questioning eyes on her.

Molly knew, of course, that Tom bore some outward resemblance to Sherlock. She had hoped, however, that he would not notice. After all, he had never really shown any interest in the men in her life before. Well, except for Jim. But that was something else.

Slightly embarrassed, she lowered her eyes and downed the contents of her glass in one go.

Sherlock, however, said nothing, just shook Tom's hand briefly and then walked out the door with John.

Molly expelled the air after he left, not realizing that she had stopped it earlier. She then walked in the direction of the couch, grabbed another drink and stood next to her fiancé.

While everyone else around her was engrossed in conversation, she couldn't help but ponder the look and Sherlock's reaction.

Again, the images of the kiss came to her mind. And again she felt the warmth rise on her cheeks.

She excused herself briefly to the others and then headed toward the bathroom. Molly desperately needed a blast of cold water on her face right now.

After she had dried off, she looked in the mirror again when suddenly the door was pushed open.

Sherlock stood in the doorway, slightly confused, and looked at her. With his lips, he formed her name.

"Oh, sorry. I'll be done in a minute" Molly replied to him shyly and slowly walked out to the exit.

Sherlock, however, did not move, so she had to push past him. Her breasts brushed his and their fingers touched lightly as she squeezed past. Their faces were so inches apart that when Molly raised her head now, their lips brushed. Her whole body ignited and she tingled where she involuntarily touched him. There was a strange electrifying tension in the air. Molly knew she had to get out of here as soon as possible before she did anything else stupid.

But before she could step back out into the hallway and join the others, he held her by the wrist.

With an uncertain and confused look, she looked first at the hand that closed around her wrist and then into his eyes.

"What's wrong?" she then asked with a slight frown but also concern in her eyes.

Sherlock seemed to think for a moment.

"Nothing. Sorry, Molly," he then replied and let go of her wrist again.

Again the air crackled violently between them and the electrifying tension returned. Both were so focused on his counterpart that they didn't notice they were being watched.

Sherlock POV

After letting go of Molly's wrist, he quickly turned and disappeared into the bathroom. Bent over the sink, with his hands on the sides of it, he searched for footing. His knuckles were nearly white. Still he felt that crackle. He could swear he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. That's how excited he was. He felt a strange tingling sensation rise throughout his body and his skin burned like fire where Molly had touched him.

He wanted to kiss her. Press her against the doorframe and kiss her. Press her body against his and seal his lips with hers. Again and again.

But then he remembered that not far away, her fiancé would be waiting for her. And his chance with her had passed.

His stomach tightened painfully and he felt a thick lump in his throat.

He thought of that kiss. That kiss that had made his whole world go completely haywire. Sherlock hadn't actually intended to kiss her. Especially after he had heard about their engagement, but it was different. Molly wanted it and it just felt right at that moment.

Ever since he had left for his mission, he had been thinking about Molly incessantly. He was disappointed that he couldn't say goodbye to her. He was afraid that he might not survive it and thus never confess his true feelings to Molly.

Sherlock had never believed in anything like love or romantic feelings, let alone lived completely contrary to those notions but with Molly it was different.

It began the first time he had seen Molly in the lab with her boyfriend, who would later turn out to be Moriarty. Even though he could quickly deduce this one as homosexual, he still felt a strange sense of jealousy rising inside him. Molly was excited and seemed happy. And worst of all, it wasn't because of him. In front of John, of course, he didn't want to let on. That's why he reacted so dismissively, humiliating her.

Another time he felt those feelings at the Christmas party. And again it was Sherlock who humiliated them with his deductions. He felt guilt and remorse and something broke inside him when he saw how hurt she was. At the time, however, he didn't know what it meant. And as he gave her that kiss on the cheek, he felt his body warm up and his heart begin to beat violently in his chest.

He hadn't talked to anyone about these kinds of feelings and reactions from his body, and he wanted to dismiss it as a one-time thing. But it didn't stop there.

He had never felt this way about anyone before. Not even for Irene Adler, or as Sherlock called her, "the woman." Back at her "death," it was different. Sure, he was disappointed and maybe a little bit sad but only because he had lost a person who seemed to be a match for him and his intellect. But he never harbored any sexual interest in her. It was different with Molly. He wanted Molly. He wanted to feel her body on his. Her skin on his. Every inch of him craved her. And so did that one special muscle in his chest.

He realized more and more that he had made a mistake. He should never have let her kiss him. He should have pushed himself away from her immediately. But he didn't, and now he couldn't stop thinking about her.

Just as Sherlock was about to continue pursuing his thoughts and the wonderful memories, there was a sudden knock at the door.

"Hello Sherlock? Buddy, is everything okay? You've been in there quite a while."

It was John, standing on the other side of the door, sounding slightly concerned.

And then Sherlock had an idea.

John. John, of course. His best friend who knew all this emotional nonsense. Maybe he should start opening up to him and talk to him about it. Maybe John knew what to do or how to turn these feelings off.

"Anyway. Mary, Greg, Molly, Tom and I want to go to another bar. You're welcome to come along." explained John when he heard nothing from inside.

"Though I doubt that's something for you" he muttered further. More to himself than to Sherlock.

When he still heard nothing after a few seconds, he slowly moved away from the door.

"John, wait!" prompted Sherlock after he had opened the bathrooms.

John turned abruptly and now looked at the detective with a frown.

"Before we go, I'd want to have a quick...quick word with you" Sherlock then said slightly sheepishly. Looking down.

The wrinkles on John's forehead only deepened in response.

"Oh, sure. I'll just let the others know," he said and immediately disappeared into the adjoining living room.