John was startled to walk into his office and find Sherlock sitting cross-legged on the examination table. He looked very disheveled compared to his normal appearance.

"Oh, hello, John. I've been waiting for you." He stated quite plainly.

"Well that's a bit obvious, Sherlock. What are you doing here?" He sounded slightly irritated and concerned at the same time. That was the state John was usually in. It was, however, predominantly irritation.

Sherlock took in a deep breath and sucked on his bottom lip while shifting his sitting position.

"Wait, hang on, let me guess," John said, gesturing upwards with his hands, "Considering how uncomfortable it's making you, and given your frankly childish behavior in the flat, I'd venture a guess to say you've come to talk about Molly. Am I correct?" John smiled widely when he'd finished. He did not need Sherlock to answer him to know that his deduction was one-hundred percent accurate.

Sherlock slid himself off the table and tugged upwards on his coat collar.

"Well since you've already deduced as much, there's no use in my repeating what you and I-" He was cut off by John.

"Yeah, but I want to hear you say it," Sherlock tilted his head to the side and set his mouth in a firm line, "Go on, then. Tell me why you're here in my office."

"John..."

He only responded by raising his eyebrows, and taking a seat at the corner of the room.

"Come on now, Sherlock. You never spoke a single word to me about Janine. Why should Molly be different? Hmm?" He crossed his arms.

"Because!" Sherlock began in a loud tone before calming himself down, "Because...I didn't...care...about Janine..." His eyes darted across the room. He was still entirely reluctant to admit that he had any sort of romantic attachment to the mousy pathologist.

"And you do care about Molly, despite your sulking in the flat." John finished. "I know that, Sherlock. I could tell earlier today, when she hugged me," Sherlock turned red, "Dear God..." John exclaimed, "You're bloody blushing, aren't you?" John put his face down into his hands to try and control his imminent outbreak of laughter.

"John..."

John chuckled in response, "I should take a picture for Lestrade!"

"You will do no such thing!" Sherlock shouted.

John smiled again, and Sherlock seated himself back on the table, putting his head in his hands. He groaned.

"Look, umm...John. I didn't come here to discuss my...feelings," He wrinkled his face as he said the word, "for Doctor Hooper."

"Why are you here, then?" He asked incredulously.

Sherlock took another deep breath, and told John everything that just happened at Bart's from the beginning. When he'd finished stating the main points, he began over again with,

"She called me 'Mr. Holmes,' John, 'Mr. Holmes!'"

"Alright, Sherlock, calm down. Just because a woman uses your surname is no reason to get so worked up." John was trying as hard as he could to not laugh at his friend. He had never seen him behaving like this before. It did not take long, however, to change back into his usual self.

"But she wouldn't let me use the lab, and it is interfering with my work," Sherlock knew it was a lie that he had gone to Bart's only to use the lab. "I need to know what to do to keep her from restricting me from the lab, and thereby impeding my working process."

John didn't hesitate long before saying, "Yeah, well maybe, and this is going way out on a limb here, but just maybe she got tired of you being such an obnoxious sod all of the time."

Sherlock looked hurt by John's comment.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, Sherlock. You even called yourself an arsehole in your best man's speech!" Sherlock looked down at the floor. John softened a bit. "Look," He sighed, "What I'm trying to say is that if you start to treat her a bit more like the lady she is, she might let you back...into the lab."

Sherlock blinked a few times and twisted his mouth before shaking his head and answering in one sharp breath, "I don't know how to do that."

John sighed, "Well, Sherlock, perhaps Mary and I could help you come up with some solutions later tonight.. But for now could you get out of here, please? I have patients!"

Sherlock leaped off the table and left in a sulky manner out the door.

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It took him about twenty minutes to return to 221B by cab, leaving plenty of time for him to delve into his mind palace to work on his present case. At least, that's what he tried to do. Every thought he had would always somehow turn back to Molly, Molly, Molly.

He thought about how often he had brushed aside her affections, how often he had disregarded her wishes, how often he had ignored her offers for help. Only now was he beginning to see the effects it was having on her. Still, with what had happened between them in her flat...Of course, that was such a long time ago. Would it even make a difference to her now?

"Case," He thought to himself. "Case, case, case, case." But it was utterly useless. Every thing, every shred of evidence would somehow only lead him to thinking about Molly.

This had gotten to be absolutely ridiculous. He couldn't harbor feelings for a woman if it was going to do this to his mind. The thoughts he had only moments ago about himself and Molly came to a crashing halt. He could not let this continue any further. After all, what more was sentiment than a chemical defect found in the losing side?