It was a sunny day. Sherlock decided to walk to Molly's flat. It would do him some good to take some fresh. He had been cooped up in his flat for the whole week. The streets were abuzz with Londoners, all of them taking advantage of the sun just like him. But unlike them, he was noting and making changes to the London map in his head. The city's population was as ever on the rise, so the landscape was continuously on the change. It was of utmost importance that he had the maze of his city memorized.

He was almost two blocks from the Molly's flat when he spotted her. She was exactly fifteen feet ahead of him, trying desperately to avoid spilling the contents of the plastic bag on the street. She was wearing her trademark clothing: bright orange top that had cat pattern all over it (seriously?) and a light blue knee length skirt. He wondered how a grown woman in a respectable job could have a dressing sense that would rival a six year old.

Yet, it is way more enticing than Irene's ever was, a part of his brain added. Hmmm…that was something he had to consider. Irene had only been a, what normal humans would call as a passing cloud. He was only interested in her because of her intelligence. But if he had to compared Molly to Irene, his brain came with such a long list of how Molly was so much better than Irene that he was shocked about how so much detail of Molly existed in his mind palace. That was a matter which had to be addressed.

He had easily covered the distance between them, within a few seconds.

"Hello" he said in his usual brusque manner. She was startled, and began to lose grip on her shopping bag. He rolled his eyes, before catching the bag easily before it fell.

"My God Sherlock! You almost gave me a heart attack. You should really stop sneaking upon people or I might tie a bell to your neck" she said with a smile in her voice. He was wearing her favorite purple shirt, and his unruly black curls appeared honey brown in the sunlight.

Sherlock was offended with the image of a bell being tied around his neck.

"That was hardly sneaking up Molly. You should have been able to hear me approach you" he said with a sniff.

"Not everybody has super human hearing like you do Sherlock."

He was about to retort something, but Molly cut him off.

"So, what are you doing here? For a case?" she asked as they continued in the direction of her flat.

"Nope" he popped the 'p'. "I'm to help you bring over the baked goods to the Watsons'. Mary texted me."

Molly wondered why Mary would think that she couldn't handle a small basket of biscuits. Did she appear that frail?

"Oh! But that would take a while. I just now purchased the ingredients. You'd have to wait for at least three hours."

Some part of Sherlock, which he hadn't acknowledged for many years, felt elated at the thought of spending three hours, interrupted with Molly. He wondered why he would feel that way.

"I just finished a case. I am bored already. Might as well wait in your flat." He said nonchalantly.

"Okay" she said with a shrug, but he noted that she was trying to hide a smile. And that put a smile on his face.

They climbed the stairs to her apartment in companionable silence. Toby greeted them at the door as soon as Molly opened it. He first circled her feet, before rubbing against Sherlock's legs. During the time, when he used Molly's place as a hideout Toby had grown quite fond of Sherlock. The same could be said for Sherlock. When Molly returned from work, she would find Toby sitting on Sherlock's lap purring away, instead of eagerly greeting her at the door. Traitor.

Sherlock dumped the shopping bag on the kitchen counter which he had been carrying ever since he caught it. He was gentleman in that way. Mummy would be proud, he thought wryly.

He plopped himself over the sofa, after removing his coat and scarf. Molly wondered how someone could wear them, in such warm weather.

"Coffee?" she asked from the kitchen.

"Yes", then after a slight pause "please." Molly giggled at the fact that John had somehow managed to make Sherlock add the words please and thank you to his dictionary.

He was going over her medical journal when she handed him coffee. They discussed about an article in it while they drank their drink.

"I better get started with the baking" she said and headed towards the kitchen.

"I would like to watch and maybe help" he volunteered. He had watched Molly work in the kitchen once. Just like in the morgue, she was precise and was at ease. It had been fascinating to watch (and also baking could come quite handy in a case, you might never know.)

Molly had turned around to gawk at him, but schooled her expression quickly.

"Sure" she said with a smile. "I could use some help."

"Have you ever baked before?"

"No. Never."

"Well then you watch first, then help. Ok?"

He nodded. How difficult can it be? He was going to master the art of baking, and learn the secret recipe of the biscuits. He smirked and leant against the counter, settling to watch Molly bake.

She began by preparing the batter. As she did, she began talking about her childhood. Sherlock realized that, Molly was beginning to feel comfortable around him. Usually she would stutter whenever she spoke to him, and it was always about a case or an experiment. Now he knew Molly as a person, not as an asset. The thought that she was sharing with her made that warm feeling in his heart stronger. As he listened he noticed that, a strand of her hair which she had tied into a messy bun, was falling into her eyes, and she was trying her best to push it back using her elbows. Without thinking he reached forward and tucked it behind her ear. Molly's breath hitched when he came close and a she blushed a deep red. As it dawned on him what he had just done, he too blushed. They just stood there, looking at each other, before Molly recovered first and continued telling more about her hometown.

Sherlock felt deeply shaken. He was acting definitely more and more weirdly around Molly. He had to look into the matter asap.

When he was sure that he could help her, they began to make progress. It was quite fun actually. Cooking was so much like chemistry. And not before long the biscuits were put int the oven and getting baked. Now, there was nothing to do but wait. Molly thought she might as well take a shower before going to the Watsons'. While she was gone, Sherlock plunged into his mind palace to get away from the thoughts of Molly.

AN: Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think! :)