Molly didn't quite understand. She was stepping out of a cab on Baker Street, woolly hat and mittens protecting her from the cold. She paid the driver and mounted the steps to 221B.

'Mr Holmes? Hello?' She pushed open the door. 'Hello?'

'Oh, hello dear. You must be Molly Hooper, Sherlock's told me all about you!' Molly was surprised to see a spritely old woman at the door. Must be Mrs Hudson.

'Um, Hello. Are you Mrs Hudson?'

'Yes dear. Please, come on in, Sherlock will be along soon. I tell you, it's lovely that he's finally found someone to settle in with, you know? He gets lonely, all on his own…'

She stepped through into a mess. Skulls blotted the wallpaper, there was a real skull on the mantelpiece and she could just make out a lab-like kitchen.

'Mrs Hudson, we're not-'

'Oh, don't worry dear. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Of course, Sherlock can… be a bit of a handful you see, it's good he has someone to keep him in check!'

Molly sighed. She had a horrible realisation; was she just a handler, there to keep Sherlock in check, did she actually count for anything? She perched on the sofa and waited.

'Mrs Hudson!'

'Sherlock! Come through, Molly's here.'

Molly smiled to herself at the genuine affection in their voices. A tone she hoped she'd hear directed at her, one day. She watched as he strode in like he owned the place.

'Molly.'

'Mr Holmes.'

'Oh, call me Sherlock, please. 'Mr Holmes' is so… archaic.'

'Right, Sherlock. Okay.' She smiled brightly at him. He regarded her steadily as he approached the sofa.

'Scoot over.'

'What?'

He made a shooing motion. She retreated to the far end of the sofa. Sherlock flopped down and swung his feet up, settling them on her lap.

'Sherlock, what're you doing?'

'Helps me think.'

'What?'

'Are you deaf, Molly, or just idiotic? Lying on the sofa helps me to think.'

'Well, I can-'

'No.'

'How did you know what I was going to say?'

'You shifted your weight.'

Molly started when she heard Mrs Hudson's 'Woo-oo!'

'I'll leave you to it, dears.' She retreated to her flat.

Molly glanced accusingly at Sherlock. To her annoyance, his eyes were shut and he appeared to be utterly ignoring her.

'She thinks we're a couple, Sherlock.'

'Well of course she does,' he replied, opening his eyes to look at her. 'That's what people believe, isn't it? Everybody is going to assume that, Molly. Does that bother you?'

'Would you care if it did?'

'No.'

'Then yes, it does.'

'Why?'

'Because I've known you for one day! One day! Why didn't you pick someone else?'

'You don't want to work with me. Alright. No one does. I'm far too clever.'

'Oh shut up,' Molly snapped. He stared. 'I'm… sorry. I don't know where that came from.'

'You're attracted to me, so you're angry, because it isn't reciprocated.' It was her turn to stare.

'How could you possibly-' she spluttered 'I've known you a day! So far you've been arrogant and cruel! For somebody who is so clever, you're remarkably ignorant, Sherlock.' She tried to move, but realised his legs were still stretched out across her lap. 'Excuse me, Sherlock.'

He swung his legs down and stormed into the kitchen. He came back a couple of minutes later, a steaming mug of coffee in each hand.

'Thanks. I'm sorry.'

'No, Molly. I shouldn't have done that. I'll put an ad in the paper tomorrow.'

'Why?'

'You aren't going to move in.'

'Why not?'

'Because I live here.'

'Don't you want me here?'

'Well…'

'Woo-oo!' Mrs Hudson was back. 'Molly, dear, I've tidied Sherlock's room for you. I'm sure you'll both manage fine.' Molly choked on her coffee. 'Did I say something wrong, dear?'

'N-no. I mean, me and Sherlock, we won't… um. We won't be sharing a- a room, Mrs Hudson.'

As she left, Sherlock chuckled darkly.

'What?'

'Ah, Molly. Molly Hooper. I could hear the hope in your voice so clearly. I do hope this won't affect your professional judgement?'

She glared at him. 'Shut up Sherlock. That wasn't hope. You're just cocky…' She blushed. 'I can't believe she thought that. Why would- with you, no less, god… no. It's obvious from a mile away that you don't… do that sort of thing.'

'Not really my area.' He conceded.

'Have you ever had a girlfriend?'

'No.'

'Boyfriend?'

'No. Look Molly, I'm flattered, but-'

'Stop doing that.'

'What?'

'Assuming I fancy you.'

'Well, you do.'

'I don't!'

He smirked.

'SHERLOCK!' Molly started as a man shouted from downstairs. 'YOU'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE!'

'I'm busy!' Sherlock called back.

'THERE'S A NOTE THIS TIME!'

The glee on his face was incredible. He seized Molly by the shoulders.

'Your first case, Molly! Four serial suicides and a note!' He actually laughed. She smiled nervously.

'I'm not sure I want to…'

'Oh come on, Molly Hooper. 33, single, desperate for a bit of adventure. You'll come with me. For a couple hours, you'll feel useful, like you're worth something.'

She was out the door before him.

The crime scene was crawling with police. The ride there had been tense; Molly felt hurt and angry that Sherlock thought she was worthless.

'Freak's here!' A frizz haired woman shouted.

'Freak?' Molly asked, as they approached the barrier.

'Yes. They don't understand what I do.'

'And what's that?'

He grinned at her.

'I outsmart everyone in the room.'