"Eat," said Molly, shoving half a sandwich in Sherlock's face as he continued to type on his laptop.
"Working." He replied quickly as he pushed her hand aside without taking his eyes off the screen. Not missing a beat, she deftly shut the lid on top of his fingers.
"Wasn't a request," she said, again shoving the sandwich in his face, this time smirking when he took it with a frustrated look, like a child being forced to do something he didn't want to do. He reluctantly bit into the sandwich as she went to curl up on his chair, blanket wrapped around her and television remote in hand.
"I liked you better when you were terrified of me," Sherlock retorted, finishing the sandwich before re-opening his laptop and returning to his work.
"Yeah, well, I liked your case better dead," she said, flipping through the channels and wrapping the blanket tighter around her.
After a while of mindlessly flipping through channels, she rose from the chair and stretched, before walking over to Sherlock seated at his desk. "You need to sleep tonight."
"I'm working. I think I may have figured out the piece of the Network I missed."
"Sherlock, I've been here for three days and you've been running around London or staring at that screen the entire time. You know what sleep deprivation can do to cognitive function."
Sherlock sighed and looked up at her through his brow. "Molly, you're not my mother. I'm fine."
"Really?"
"Really."
Molly reached up and flicked him on the forehead, directly between the eyes.
"What was that for?" He asked, rubbing the red mark slowly forming between his dark-circled eyes.
"A well-rested detective would have seen that coming. We both know you wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight in your current condition. Get a few hours. The work will be there in the morning. Please?" She went to close the computer again, only this time gently taking his hands in hers and setting them onto his lap before closing the lid with a click.
Sherlock was still slightly in awe of this new Molly. She had changed so dramatically in the months leading up to the Magnussen case that he could hardly believe this to be the same mousy woman who made him coffee so long ago in the morgue. Molly poised herself with confidence in her appearance, always keeping her head held high with eyes that were piercing with ease. However, the most obvious change of all was her blatant lack of fear around him. She no longer seemed to walk on eggshells and her stammer was only a distant memory. Maybe he should phone that Meat Dagger fellow and thank him for being a massive ass, as it had clearly done Molly some good.
"If I sleep, will you leave me alone tomorrow about eating?"
"Fine, I was going to go do some of my own reconnaissance tomorrow anyway."
Sherlock looked up at her, confused, before realizing. "Sarcasm?"
"Sarcasm." She answered, headed for the stairs. "Goodnight, Sherlock."
He couldn't help the smile when he answered. "Goodnight, Molly."