Note: So, peeps, it's Saturday – the day after Molly's date. Enjoy and Review. By the way: I'm still not the owner of anything, just to keep you updated on this :)

Molly awoke with a groan to the urging sound of her alarm. She'd only slept a few hours. But, she had agreed to work the Saturday shift before she had accepted David's invitation. It was 7.30 a.m. and she had only come home at 1.15 that same (early) morning.

The two of them were forced to leave the restaurant at eleven o'clock because the staff had to close. Up until then, time had just flown. David wanted to know everything about her, her family, her friends, and her job. The things she told him seemed to fascinate him. He inhaled her funny stories about university and showed real compassion when she talked about her father and how hard his death had hit her.

When they had left the restaurant, neither felt like going home right away. David obviously wanted to spend more time with her but did not suggest going to either of their flats, clearly not wanting to push her. Instead, he suggested a nice pub not far away. A friend of his was the owner and welcomed them warmly when they arrived. Even after the pub was closed, he let them sit at the bar together while he cleared up the small kitchen. Being alone with David in the dimly lit place was enjoyably cosy.

David had proved to be a perfect gentleman and insisted on accompanying her on her way home. When the cab stopped in front of her building, David told the driver to wait for a few minutes, stepped out and moved around the vehicle to open the car door for her. Molly thought that this was a bit over the top but enjoyed the gesture nonetheless. It really felt nice to be treated like a lady for once. He walked her to the door and waited patiently until she had found the keys inside her big and messy bag. The first uncomfortable silence of the evening had followed then.

Suddenly, David had leaned towards Molly and pressed a soft kiss on her right cheek. As he moved away he said, "that was an amazing evening. Can I see you again?" She smiled up at him and nodded, "yes, you can. And also, you may…" Ah, there it is. Well, it was only a matter of time until Sherlock would creep his way into my thoughts again. At least it had just been through grammar lessons. She quickly forgave herself, though, when she saw David smiling at her answer.

Back in her flat, it had taken her a while to drift of to sleep as she thought about the evening she'd just had.

Now she lay in bed cuddling with the extra pillow, one hand fiddling with the little microscope on her neck. She had forgotten to take the necklace off the night before. And, now thinking about it, she didn't feel like doing it now. Yes, she would very much like to see David again.

_.:0:._

The night before, Sherlock had suddenly left John standing in front of the wall, looking puzzled, feeling as if he was part of a bad sketch comedy. He only heard his friend mutter from the hallway, already opening the door to his bedroom, "need to think of one or two things again, will tell you at breakfast tomorrow." Sometimes, living with Sherlock was a bit like a BBC crime and drama series.

The next morning, John was already waiting when Sherlock entered the room. "Slept well? Any bad dreams?", Sherlock ignored him. "Now, care to tell me about the bodies this morning?"

"Of course", Sherlock said while taking a seat and grabbing the cuppa that was waiting for him on the table. He had had the same dream again but was not going to share this with John. "As I said yesterday, I found out why some corpses were left at the funeral homes. I didn't recognise it right away because there is a rather delicious twist. All of the bodies that went missing came from the teaching hospitals. I did not find that important at first as there are not many other hospitals in Leeds and also, some of the bodies that had been left in the homes died in one of the teaching hospitals' facilities as well. But, additionally, all of them had been examined by the same pathologist after death. The same signature, see" he gestured to the list that was lying on the table between them. John nodded, trying hard not to look too strained whilst following Sherlock's logic. So far, he understood.

"His name is Max Knight. But, that was the delicious part, there were also two people that had been examined by him who were not taken by the intruders. And that is how I know that there must be other places which are also missing bodies." Sherlock watched John and waited for a kind of 'Yes, of course'-reaction. It didn't come.

"One of these days you have to start acknowledging that I do not possess the same mental abilities as you."

"Ah, well, but you do come close. See, the two were old men over 75. They already had enough of those."

"Pardon, me, what?"

"Yes, the thieves took ten men over 75. Seeing as they are planning on getting themselves a sample of the British population with a sample size of 600, they did not need more."

John's mouth stood open. "Sampling…. British population…. of dead people…?" It was too much for him, especially as Sherlock had spoken these words so casually. "And you gathered that because ten of the corpses were men over 75. They do tend to die a lot, you know?"

"Don't patronise me, John. Naturally, that isn't all. Exactly half of them were female. One sixth of them were immigrants or living in Britain in the second or third generation. If you would bother to have a look at the sociology journals I subscribe to, you would know that about 10 of the 60 million British citizens have their ethnic roots all over the commonwealth. Age distribution also fits roughly, even though they must be missing a lot of younger bodies, but they really tried to get the proportions as well as possible. The fact that they didn't bother to take more than those ten old men shows that the sample size they've chosen is 600. But, the funeral homes were only missing a total of 51 bodies. Clearly, there will be more thefts."

John was still processing all of this when he asked, "but… why? Why would someone go to those lengths? What are the bodies needed for? If you're right, this is a huge deal, …and very morbid." Oh, what am I saying, he probably is right.

"Well, too much data is still missing for me to figure that out. I suggest you call Sergeant Cooper now and tell him what we found out," John laughed at this. What 'we' found out… Sometimes, he's kind without realising it. "Then," Sherlock continued, "I need to go to St. Bart's. Yesterday night, I conducted some further research. Molly went to medical school with this Max Knight. Perhaps, she can give me some information on him. Without any other knowledge, we must assume he has something to do with this whole business."

John shot him an interested look but didn't comment.

The night before, Sherlock had convinced himself that talking to Molly was a necessity for the case and that he could not let his personal matters interfere with his work. He had congratulated himself on his professional point of view. Now, he was looking forward to talking to Molly. In the hope she had critical information, of course.

_.:0:._

It was eleven o'clock when he entered St. Bart's and headed for the lift.

Molly was sitting at a desk, staring onto the computer screen and typing a report. She was still tired after her second cup of coffee. Quietly, some classical music was coming out of the speakers next to the computer. On Saturdays, when not many people were in, she often listened to music. It helped her concentrate. Lazily she shifted in her chair and was just about to go and get another one when she saw him. She shrieked a bit as he was standing only a few feet away, looking at her. Not moving, not talking. He seemed… shy? In Sherlock's hands she could see two big paper cups with green print.

"Hello Molly," he said, "I'm sorry, if I alarmed you. I didn't want to disrupt you so I decided to wait until you're done with the report. Ride of the valkyries. Nice piece but isn't this a little unsettling and too… war ridden for you? Coffee?"

This was weird on many levels. Sherlock brought her coffee. He apologised. He didn't want to disturb her work.

"Sherlock, is something wrong? What happened?"

"Nothing is wrong, well nothing major. Someone builds himself a UK population out of dead people. I'll explain in a minute. But, apart from that, everything is all right." He still stood there, one arm outstretched, offering her a cup of coffee, a calm and friendly face. She'd seen the face before. He wanted something from her – though, he'd never put in that much effort, after all she was kind of easy to convince. Molly relaxed a bit but then started to process his words. A UK population out of dead people?

Before she could ask what he meant, Sherlock spoke again. "About the other day," he took his eyes away from hers and looked to the floor. Now, this is definitely new. He's uncomfortable. "Uh… did you get my text message? I, erm, I apologised, you see." An expectant look was revealed when his head came back up.

"Yes, I did."

"Ah. Good. You did not respond."

"No, I didn't."

"Oh, I wasn't sure whether you were aware. It's not typical for you not to reply to a text message."

"Yeah, well. I'm not always so predictable, Sherlock." This was weird. Is this how it feels to be the powerful one in a conversation? She almost felt sorry for him. Finally, she gave him a small smile.

"I accept your apology." She moved closer to him and took the coffee from his hand a bit roughly. It wouldn't hurt to let him hang in there for a little bit longer. After all, his behaviour had been hurtful. On one side of the paper cup, 'S H U R L O C K' was written with a black marker pen. Molly giggled.

Noticing her gaze at the name, he said, "Yes, this was odd. The lady behind the counter wanted to know my name and then later shouted it through the whole place when the coffees were ready. She obviously didn't bother to listen to me when I spelt it out for her. I did understand that part, though. But, could you turn the cup? Perhaps, you can explain the other side to me." She did as he asked and there was another word, written in smaller letters, 'Cathy', and underneath some digits that clearly were the girl's phone number.

"Is that some sort of advertisement? Or, is there another procedure to get your coffee at such places? I don't go there very often and usually John catches the coffee."

"No, Sherlock, this Cathy was flirting with you. She wants you to call her and therefore put her number on the cup." Molly smiled at his unworldly enquiry.

"Well, that's not very professional of her."

"No, indeed, it isn't… Why are you here, anyway? What do you need?" It was hard for Molly to remain her cool demeanour. It was Sherlock, after all, but she had sworn to not fall for him again. But, he was so nice, for once. She quickly tried to remember David's admiring face and abstractedly touched the pendant on her neck.

Of course, Sherlock had caught sight of the new necklace on Molly the minute he had stepped into the lab. He had also seen the dark circles around her eyes indicating sleep deprivation and the unusual smile. He immediately knew she had had a date the night before but decided not to mention it to her. He did not want her to tell him about it, about the obvious fact that she'd enjoyed it. My enquiry would make her feel uncomfortable. And it would probably do the same to him.

Now, however, when she touched the tiny microscope, the words just escaped his mouth, "that is nice, Molly. It was thoughtful of him, fits your personality. I hope, he will be right for you." He really hoped that, he realised then. He liked it when Molly was happy. He was always making her sad and almost never brought out such a sincere smile in her. She looked at him in surprise.

"Sherlock, do you mind if I hug you?"

"Not too much, but why d…?" He was cut short; some of Molly's hair got caught up in his still open mouth. He didn't move as he was shocked by her sudden approach. When she didn't let go of his neck immediately, he slowly brought up his own hands and placed one on her left shoulder and one on the small of her back, not daring to move them or apply any sort of pressure. She smelt nice.

Molly realised what she had done and let go of him. "That was so nice of you to say. I don't know why you said it but I really appreciate your sincerity. Thank you." At that moment, Molly was confident that she could move on and still keep Sherlock in her life. Her brilliant Sherlock. Her heart wasn't pounding crazily because she had just been so close to him. She just liked his presence and… him.

"This being done, would you finally tell me about the dead people and why you are here?"

"Ah, yes of course, sorry," Sherlock was still baffled. Nevertheless, he proceeded to tell her about the case and what had happened in Leeds. He had just finished telling her about his findings from the night before and she was already sitting back in front of her computer.

"...and I thought that, since you went to medical school with Dr Knight,... can you tell me something about him? Also, could I ask you not to talk to anyone about this? It's still very delicate and I'd rather only tell the people I can trust."

"I see, very well." He trusts me. "Come here, we had this one guy that started a newsletter right after all of us had left school. He neatly describes what everyone is up to. Mostly, I don't have the time to read it but I still have all of them somewhere in my email account. I'll just skip through them and search for Max. Unfortunately, I don't know him too well, sorry."

Not realising how fast the time had flown by, Sherlock looked at his watch at 1.30 in the afternoon. He was standing behind Molly, who was still scanning her newsletters, looking over her shoulder. The two had gone through most of the emails by now. Molly had told him several stories about former classmates of hers and, surprisingly, he had enjoyed even the information that was completely irrelevant for the case. Molly was different today. She spoke in coherent sentences and wasn't overly shy around him, like she normally was. He quite liked that new behaviour. He liked the funny and confident version of Molly.

When she opened the last and newest email he leaned in closer and caught her scent again. Lavender. He closed his eyes and kept leaning. When he opened them again, his head was directly next to hers. She was peering into the screen and seemingly didn't notice how close he was. When Sherlock started to scan the email as well, his eyes suddenly trailed off and locked on the pendant of her necklace again. The microscope, in contrast to the necklace itself, was unusually thick and didn't look as delicate as the silver chain. It rested nicely on her chest. Right above the point where the curves of her breasts started and formed a lovely little valley, much of which he could see from his current position.

Molly felt his dark curls tickle her cheeks and his breath on her shoulder. It was kind of nice. She didn't move so that he wouldn't shrug away.

Suddenly, the door to the lab opened and Sherlock nervously jumped back, feeling caught. Molly looked up as well and her eyes opened widely in surprise.

"David, hi, what are you doing here?"

So, what did you think about it? In the next chapter, Sherlock and David get introduced to each other.