Sherlock and John entered their flat, both exhausted and dirty, after seven hours of chasing a French poodle, which they still hadn't found. "I'll put the kettle on", John said with a fatigued sigh as he trudged to the kitchen. As John noisily dug through the cabinets for some teabags and two mugs, Sherlock casually walked over to the living room and was surprised to see a sleeping Molly sprawled on the couch wearing an open gray, wool trench coat to reveal a striped dark blue dress. He stared at her, his head cocked in amusement and fascination.
"You're a sight to wake up to", Molly muttered, her eyes still close.
"You're a sight to come home to", Sherlock said with a bored tone then added in a more enthused tone, "Sleeping Beauty."
Molly faintly blushed and smiled, and opened her eyes slightly to look at him, but then said in a jaded voice, "Find that French poodle yet?"
"No", Sherlock sat down in a chair.
"Mycroft got all upset and mentioned something about you chasing a French poodle through a restaurant", Molly sighed and placed her arm on her forehead to somewhat shield her eyes from the light.
"I see that Mycroft has finally upgraded his surveillance."
"Yeah, you went from a blue to a yellow. If you want, I'll help you search for the dog later", Molly looked at Sherlock with her red, weary eye. "Maybe."
"If you want", Sherlock shrugged.
Molly sighed a worn out moan, "I have a new name", and she gestured to a pile of papers on the coffee table.
Sherlock took the stack of papers and flipped through them, "Irene Alder", he took out an American passport. "20th of March, 1979; Cassel, New Jersey."
"I wanted to be from Texas", Molly said, sitting up, "so I could say cool things like 'y'all' or 'two shakes of a rabbit's ass", she stretched.
"And Mycroft got you all this?" Sherlock glanced through the papers.
"Yeah", she rubbed her face, "a higher up in the American government owed him a favour. When I asked who it was, he told me, nonchalantly, that it was Obama."
Sherlock stopped flipping through the papers and a lost, confused look appeared on his face.
"Barack Obama? The single most powerful man in the world?" Molly stammered out; Sherlock's face did not change at all, "The President of the United States."
"Oh", Sherlock muttered as he continued to read her papers, "okay, I see now."
Her brows furrowed in thought and she muttered to herself, "I just have to remember to speak in an American accent"—her accent changed to American—"and use American slang. The loo is now the bathroom, potty, the John"...
"Oh, hello, Molly", John said cheerfully as he walked in with two steaming mugs. "I didn't know you were here", he handed a cup to Sherlock.
Sherlock added quickly, "Her name is Irene Adler now", he sipped his tea.
"Oh, sorry", John mumbled as he switched the cup to his other hand.
"Oh, Molly's still fine. I don't want the ties to my past to be cut off completely", Molly's hands fidgeted, "If they wanted that, they wouldn't keep me here in London."
"So you're staying in London?" John lifted his cup to drink, but quickly stopped, "Would you like some tea?"
"No, thank you...actually I need to get going", Molly stood up and grabbed the papers from Sherlock's lap, "if I'm going to be an American I need to fully commit to it", she walked towards the door, "So, if you'll excuse me, I need to go gain fifty pounds", she waved, "Later."
John waited until he heard the closing of the fount door before he spoke to Sherlock, "Irene Adler?"
"With the help of Mycroft and Obama, Molly has a new identity"; Sherlock said indifferently as he took another sip.
"Obama?" John whispered and knotted in brows in puzzlement.
Sherlock looked at John, "Yes, yes, the President of the United States. Just found that out actually", then muttered, "I just hope I didn't delete anything in the process."
The sound of the fount door was opening drifted up and the sounds of a large object being followed by a small object bounded up the stairs, "I found your dog", Molly said causally, lifting up the rope that was tied to the French poodle, "She was just down the street, I'm afraid."
"Thank you", John stood up and took the leash from Molly, "thank you so very much", he smiled warmly at her.
"Ah, don't mention it"; Molly smiled back a warm smirk, "it was entirely my pleasure. Oh, by the way, my fla"—she stopped herself—"I mean my apartment is a few blocks down so"...Molly waved again, "Lates", she ran down the stairs again and left.
I always liked the idea that Molly Hopper wasn't who she appeared to be and the fact that Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler may or may not have had a romantic relationship just makes the idea of Molly Hopper's name being changed to Irene Adler makes this even juicer.
(Side note: Next chapter may take a while. I'm pretty much out of ideas. SORRY!)