Molly sighed, grabbing her lab coat before starting on her first body of the day. She had three autopsies, four lab tests, and a mountainous pile of paperwork to complete, which all combined to form a very unattractive to-do list.

She walked into her office and sat down, pulling a few papers in front of her in the hopes that she might be able to get a head start before the corpses arrived. The pathologist had just started on the fifth form when she heard the sound of the morgue doors closing outside, causing her to look up in surprise. Nothing.

She got up from behind her desk and poked her head out into the quiet space, looking around. "Sherlock?" she called. She was used to his arriving unannounced, though she hated it when he snuck up on her. No answer, and no sign of any consulting detective. Molly was about to turn around and chalk it up to her imagination when a coffee cup resting on one of the slabs caught her eye. A note lay next to it, written in a large, messy scrawl.

Two creams, one sugar.

Molly smiled and took a careful sip. It had to be from him, she knew, but she was utterly confused as to why he would bother. No experiments, no body parts, nothing? She could not for the life of her come up with a reason why Sherlock would bring her coffee and not ask for anything in return. Oh, well. Maybe she should just enjoy it while it lasted.

ooooo

Finally, the pathologist thought as she pushed a stray piece of hair back from her forehead. Each autopsy had been relatively painless, which meant she had finished by lunchtime, ahead of schedule. Needing a break, Molly stood up, stretched, and took a short walk to make herself another coffee. Upon her return, she peeked through the tiny window in the morgue door, feeling ridiculous but hoping to see another cup waiting for her or even better, Sherlock himself.

Nothing.

Feeling more disappointed than she'd care to admit, she pushed open the heavy doors and gasped. There, on the slab in front of her, were the files for each autopsy she had done today.

Finding files was Molly's least favorite thing to do, hands down. She hated the process of entering her request into the computer, only to have to interrupt her day to walk all the way down to the lobby to pick up the file request in person. This required seeing Finn, the desk clerk whose shift lined up with hers. Though she supposed the young man meant well, Molly dreaded his awkward attempts at conversation, which more often than not turned into requests for a night out with her. She always politely declined, but Finn was annoyingly persistent.

On top of the small stack was a note.

Mycroft sends his greetings and regretfully wishes to inform you that Finn will no longer be available to chat - his shift seems to have changed quite suddenly.

The smile on the pathologist's face lit up the entire morgue.

ooooo

Over the course of the day, Molly continued to receive tiny presents from Sherlock. He cleaned the lab up for her while she was out retrieving the results from her latest tests, left lunch for her in the morgue while she tried to straighten up her messy office, and then - well, then the detective gave her a present she just couldn't get over: He took every last sheet of paperwork and completed it in Molly's handwriting while she was stuck doing a series of rather mundane experiments in the lab.

Each gift was accompanied by a little note, one that made the gesture even more lovely as the day dragged endlessly on.

Yes, I remembered to wash the kidney before putting it in the freezer.

I know you are much more partial to egg salad, but all that pathetic little cafe had was turkey.

The final note was accompanied by a text from Mary.

Dinner? John and Mary are waiting for you at Baker Street.

Well? Oh Molls, he's really outdone himself this time! MW

Molly stared at her mobile for a good five minutes. She considered asking Mary what was going on, but she figured she should expect things like this from the detective. After all, stranger things had happened, the least of which was a dinner invitation.

I'll be there as soon as my shift ends - I've still got two hours to go. MH

She had just pressed the 'send' button when a text arrived from Mycroft.

Not to worry, Miss Hooper, you are free to leave as soon as you are ready. Rest assured everything has been taken care of. MH

What has gotten into everyone today? Molly thought, locking up in a matter of minutes as she tried to process the day's events. She was pretty sure the dinner was simply another crime scene recreation or an experiment of some sort, but why, then, were Mary and Mycroft involved?

She grabbed her bag and packed absentmindedly, focusing instead on what might be waiting for her when she arrived at the flat. Scenario after scenario ran through her mind, and she finally decided to settle the matter with the only sane person left.

What's going on? MH

Sorry, Molls. It's a surprise! JW

Now the pathologist was especially confused. If even John wouldn't tell her what was going on, then what was she supposed to think? Her mind reeling with all sorts of unfounded nonsense, Molly stepped into the elevator and then out into the lobby. She had just reached the curb and was raising her hand to hail a cab when a nondescript black sedan pulled up abruptly in front of her. The backseat window rolled down to reveal Anthea, glued to her BlackBerry as always. She opened the door silently, and Molly slid in.

"Baker Street?"

"Baker Street."

The two women sat in silence for the remainder of the drive.

ooooo

Mary rushed to fling open the door as Molly climbed the seventeen steps up to the flat, smiling and taking her friend's coat before she was even in the sitting room.

"Hi, Molly," John greeted her as he stood up from his armchair.

"Hush, John, she's only got a few hours to get ready!" Mary scolded. "Now, you sit yourself down right on that couch over there while I go get your present," she said, sprinting up the tiny stairs to John's former bedroom.

Left alone with only the army doctor to keep her company, Molly sighed. "Aren't you going to tell me anything?"

"Nope," replied John smugly. "He made us promise not to."

Molly made a face at him while Mary came running down the stairs, her arms full of fabric. Muttering to herself, she unceremoniously threw the entire collection of taffeta, silk, and tulle onto the sitting room floor. Molly watched as she began wildly pulling at the pile, separating large pieces of material from pairs of heels, satin sashes, and massive clusters of diamonds. It wasn't until her friend thrust a bundle of purple velvet into her lap that Molly realized that the pile wasn't just fabric, but dresses. Dress after dress, in every color imaginable, soon covered every inch of the cozy Baker Street sitting room, followed by heels and sashes and diamonds and every other expensive bauble Molly could imagine.

"Mary... What is all this?" Molly said in awe.

"Well, that's the fun part!" responded Mary, glowing with excitement. "Sherlock went out today and bought you fifteen dresses - fifteen dresses, Molls - and gave them to me with the hope that I might be able to convince you to wear one to the dinner tonight. And, you know, he couldn't stop there, oh, no. He had to go and find you all this to match!" She gestured to the space where Sherlock's violin usually sat, now covered in jewelry and other accessories.

"He bought those for me?" Molly's eyes widened.

"Yes, for you! Now, we have to hurry, because we've only got three hours until he comes to pick you up, oh my God, just three short hours, and we need to try all these on and you need to pick shoes and we might need one of those lovely sashes over there and who knows what necklace you'll want and-" She stopped, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes briefly.

"Molly Hooper, we've got work to do."

ooooo

Reviews are greatly appreciated, as always.

Thank you, my faithful readers!

~London Belle