Chapter two. This one is really short – sorry about that. I still don't own anything.

Molly glided around the morgue at Barts. Anyone watching would say it almost looked like she was dancing.

Three weeks, three glorious weeks since Sherlock had invited her over to Baker Street and admitted his feelings to her. She shook her head, it was still strange to think about.

"Molly and Sherlock sitting in the tree." She giggled at her own stupidity. At first glance it would seem that not much had changed between the Pathologist and Consulting Detective. He still sauntered into the morgue like he owned the place and she still vowed to help him with whatever he needed.

Sometimes when he came to Barts he would bring her a coffee or a book before he started an experiment. Molly's favourite visits were the ones that happened because he wanted to see her.

Standing by her desk Molly figured she should probably start on her paperwork. Sighing she reached for a pen and clicked the top before writing her conclusion on her recently completed autopsy.

Mr Saunders aged 77. Cause of death: Lung cancer.

Molly had heard that Mr Saunders' whole family had been with him when he passed away. "Thank goodness." She mumbled.

Molly was by now no stranger to death but the cases where someone died alone had always gotten to her. A few years ago she was worried she would be one of those people whose death was only discovered when their rent payment was missed. Everything changed for her after Sherlock's fall; she and John became close; catching up a few times a week. Then with Sherlock's return she was sure he would notice the disappearance of his pathologist.

And now… Molly smiled as she thought about what happened last week.

Molly ran the towel through her hair as she walked towards her front door. It was 10.30pm and someone was thumping on it.

"You're okay." Sherlock noted as she opened the door.

"Hello to you too."

Brushing past her Sherlock walked into the lounge and promptly checked every room before he returned to the lounge. "I sent you a text at 9.40pm and you didn't reply so I…"

Molly grabbed his hand "I'm okay. I'm sorry my phone is charging."

Stepping forward he kissed her lips before turning and leaving.

Molly had also seen first-hand how protective Sherlock was. When the two of them had gone to Angelo's for dinner Molly was sure that Sherlock had growled at a man who had hit on her. Though she would never admit it she kind of liked it. Okay so the moment that Sherlock was ridiculously over protective she would put a stop to it but until then…

Molly shook her head. "Stop thinking about Sherlock." She whispered to herself.

"Why on earth would you do that?"

Quickly spinning around Molly saw the object of her thoughts walking towards her.

"Oh!" Molly chuckled. "What do you need Sherlock?"

Speeding his pace you Sherlock stood in front of her. "Molly." He whispered in his prick baritone voice. "That is a very dangerous question to ask while you are at work."

Molly shook her head. "I meant professionally."

"Boring!" Bending down he kissed her temple. "I guess I will have to wait."

"That'll be interesting. We both know how good you are at being patient." Molly cocked her eyebrow at him.

Sherlock hummed in agreement. As Sherlock walked away and sat at the microscope Molly found herself wondering if they were taking THAT step. Molly wasn't a prude but she was easy either, thank you very much. She knew she wanted to sleep with Sherlock – hell she had from their third or fourth meeting; but what did Sherlock want? Was he ready? Did he even want to?

Closing her eyes she bit her lip and hoped that he was and that he wanted to. Taking a deep breath Molly was filled with renewed confidence. 'I'll just ask him the next time we spend time together.'

"Molly dinner at your flat tonight." It wasn't a question and before Molly could answer Sherlock was gone.

"Oh hell."

Sorry, sorry, sorry. I just wanted to get this out of the way before we get to the talk. To the person who sent me a nasty PM saying that my story, grammar and life are shit. Yes I am dyslexic and I concentrate on getting the words right so grammar falls by the wayside. To everyone else who has reviewed, PMed and favourited this story, thanks.