A/N: Sorry for the gap between updates, as I said I have exams :( Thanks for the reviews/follows!


It had been a mere forty eight hours at most since Sherlock Holmes had left her flat, yet Molly already found herself missing the consulting detective. Outside, delicate white flakes were swirling in the wind, but rather than seeming beautiful, they served to remind Molly of the freezing conditions in Eastern Europe, hence her intense concentration on the autopsy she was currently finishing.

"Molly Hooper." The deep baritone voice echoed through the morgue. Molly looked up from the corpse of Mrs Paula Andrews, and wondered if working such long hours was finally beginning to affect her. "Sherlock? It can't be you – you're in Russia or somewhere!"

"My dear Molly, your deductive technique really does need some work, doesn't it? I am quite clearly not in Russia or somewhere as you so eloquently put it, but in fact here at St Bart's," Sherlock replied with a raised eyebrow, although his usual sarcastic tone was accompanied by the hint of a genuine smile.

Suddenly, the reality that Sherlock was standing in front of her, in the morgue, Belstaff and all, seemed to hit her, and Molly rushed towards him, enveloping him in a hug that smelt of cats and flowery perfume.

Then she pulled away. "I should, um, finish up with Mrs Andrews, and then maybe we could – if you want to – "

"Molly," Sherlock murmured, silencing her nervous chatter. "I shall help you clean up, and then you may accompany me to 221B if you wish, where I promise to explain the events of the past few days to you."

Molly smiled at Sherlock gratefully. "Thank you, that would be good."

And so it was that an hour later, Molly sat curled in John's old armchair, opposite Sherlock, who had just finished explaining how Mycroft had faked Moriarty's return to ensure that Sherlock was not exiled. "I knew Mycroft wouldn't do that to you!" she exclaimed, although truth be told, she was never quite sure with Sherlock's mysterious older brother. All of a sudden, she noticed the clock, which read 11:24pm. "Oh – I've just seen what time it is! I really should be going – sorry for staying so long!"

"Don't be ridiculous Molly," Sherlock interrupted, "I was the one who invited you here, and spoke for an hour."

"Even so, I should be going," she said, pulling her coat on.

Sherlock stood, waiting for his pathologist to finish wrapping her pink fluffy scarf around her neck, before following her to the door. He was about to say goodbye, when she opened the door, or at least attempted to. "Ah, it seems the weather has different plans to us," he said, gesturing to the three foot snowfall that was now preventing the door from opening fully. "You'll have to stay the night." At this, Molly blushed, and Sherlock seemed to realise the unintentional meaning behind his words. "I mean, you may sleep in my bed tonight." Molly giggled as Sherlock realised that his second attempt was if anything worse. "I know what you mean Sherlock, thank you for the offer. I don't think I have much choice anyway," she said with a smile.

They made their way upstairs, and Molly was supplied with an old, over-sized jumper which Sherlock retrieved from John's old room. After excusing herself to the bathroom to change, she entered the living room, finding Sherlock frantically searching for something, his back to her. "Sherlock?" she asked, curious towards the cause of his behaviour. Jumping, he turned towards her. "I, um, I had an idea. I have deduced that you do not sleep for long periods of time, and neither do I, so I propose that we watch a film, to avoid any awkward silences."

"That's a great idea Sherlock," she said, smiling inwardly at his adorable awkwardness. "What DVDs do you have?"

"Several physics documentaries, a recording of a nature programme, and multiple chemistry lectures," he replied, not seeming to realise that they were not really Molly's cup of tea.

"No rom coms, then?" Molly asked, almost teasingly.

"Personally, no, but John did used to keep a few for when he brought his numerous girlfriends over," he replied, turning towards another shelf. "Here they are, 'Love Actually', 'The Proposal' and 'I Give It a Year'."

"What about Love Actually?" she said, thinking of the cute actor who played John.

"I suppose so, if we must," Sherlock sighed, taking the disc out.

Half way through the film, Molly turned to Sherlock, interrupting his criticism of the "unrealistic nature of this piece of cinematic rubbish" and said "Are you really that opposed to romance?"

"Sentiment is a – "
"Chemical defect" Molly finished his sentence, with a sigh. "Never mind."

"Molly," Sherlock said, taking her hand. "I was actually going to say, sentiment is a feeling that I only recently discovered, when I thought I would never see you again. It was what caused me to kiss you, and what continues to make me want to kiss you." Before he could continue his speech on sentiment, Molly pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Do you still want to kiss me?"

"Most definitely, Miss Hooper," he replied, a lazy smile stretching across his face. "I suppose this makes you my...girlfriend. Although I detest that term, I am willing to make an exception for you."

The following morning, Mrs Hudson brought Sherlock his 'morning cuppa' only to find that another would be necessary, as on the sofa were Sherlock and Molly, clearly having fallen asleep part way through a film as the TV remained on, the menu for 'Love Actually' on the screen. "Good morning dears!" she said brightly, thrilled that Sherlock had finally found a replacement for John. "Oh, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock muttered, squinting up at his housekeeper, sorry, landlady. "This is Molly Hooper, my pathologist... and girlfriend."