*I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY IT IS PURELY FANFICTION BASED ON THE TV SERIES SHERLOCK.*

Chapter Two: Coffee?

Molly walked though from her office and into the lab with two steaming hot cups of coffee. It hadn't taken long for her and Sherlock's relationship to go back to normal. He'd come in, take over her workbench and order coffee. The first couple of times she had joked about it with him telling him to "sod off you cheeky git." But after a while they had just stopped. There were times when they would both look at each other and just laugh, something reminding them of what little time they had together. Putting his coffee down in front of him she gave him a questioning look. "And why are you looking at me like that Mr Holmes, you remember what I said don't you?" she joked.

"Yes, Molly. What do you take me for?" Sherlock quirked one eyebrow with a smirk.

"A man."

"Funny."

"I mean it Holmes. No. More. Body. Parts. For. The. Rest. Of. The. Week." With these clear, pointed words she poked him repeatedly, with her forefinger prodding his left collar-bone playfully. As she walked away from him, a faded blush covering her checks, Molly heard him sigh and his steps lightly walking from the stool where he sat to where she stood. Her blush grew when she realised just how close he had got to her. She shivered as he placed one large hand on her small right shoulder.

"Fine." He whispered, his breath tickling her the back of her neck. And just before she gave in to the thought of leaning her head back to rest on him he spoke again. "Pass me my coat will you?" Sherlock smirked at her reaction, which he could see in one of the glass carbonates across the room. She had clenched her eyes tightly shout trying to hide what her pupils gave away.

Taking a tight grip of the fabric Molly passed the large coat to him. "Here." She replied in a voice that shuck a little from the lust she tried to hide.

"Thank you, Molly." His husky tones rippled through her stomach. Laying it over his arm he walked to the lab door. "Oh and Miss Hooper…."

"Y-yes Sherlock." 'Damn how the hell does he do that?' She though when she gave her stuttered answer.

"I'm right in presuming that we are going on five-day weeks? After all that's only fair." He smirked and left.

"God damn that man!"

By the time he had got home and turned his phone back on he had seven texts from his brother waiting for him. All of which he read, but did not answer. Why should he? Every one of them was about Irene Adler and how he wanted her found. Anybody would think that he, Mycroft Holmes was worried about her.

"Answer your phone will you. I've been calling you for the past hour." Moaned John.

"Had it turned off."

"You never have your phone off?" Questioned Greg who was relaxing in Sherlock's favourite chair.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh. Charming. It's nice to see you too." Greg stated with a smirk.

"Why are you both here? You have a job. And you, you have paper work to fill in, or something tedious like that anyway." He seemed to almost growl.

"It's my day off and Greg has found 'the woman'."

Sherlock immediately turned to look at them. "Oh, really? Mycroft will be pleased. Watch out he might give you both a knighthood." Holmes' eye sparkled with excitement. At last a case to stop the boredom.

For the next few days Sherlock spent every waking moment searching for her and trying to figure out why she was back. Then out of the blue she appeared in the café down stairs. Something wasn't right. Irene Adler, the woman from Belgravia. The woman who had the royals under her thumb and dined in the most expensive restaurants London had to offer every night, was now sat in a greasy spoon café.

"At last, don't you know it's rude to keep a lady waiting?" She smiled sweetly. She clearly wanted something. "No, I don't."

"Sorry?" He was Utley confused.

"You think I want something. I don't. I'm simply here to chat." She took a sip of her coffee. "God, I knew I should have got you to meet me in Harrods' this is disgusting."

"Snob" Holmes muttered under his breath. "When you're ready Sarah." "

So you come here often? Why?" She did not understand. The place was so, well normal. The woman couldn't imagine why anyone would ever come back a second time let alone be a regular.

"Yes, when Mrs Hudson is being insufferable. Or Mycroft is looking for me. Apparently he wouldn't be seen dead here." He said distantly. "Ah, Sarah thank you." He winked at the tall, waitress with her dark red dyed hair and blue eyes. "How's your mum? Any better?" Irene couldn't believe what she was hearing. Sherlock Holmes making small talk with a dim-witted waitress with no fashion sense and the most annoying cockney accent she had ever heard.

"Getting there Mr Holmes…"

"Sherlock" he said sternly, but with a smile.

The girl laughed and carried on. "Fine, Sherlock. She's getting there as I said but it will take time and the doctors say there isn't much chance of her being all the way to the person she used to be." A sad smile came over her average face. That was until he place a hand on her's.

"Tell her to get her arse in gear or I won't grace her with my presence." Again he winked at her and she giggled.

"I'll tell her. Your coffee has gone cold miss would you like another one?" Irene didn't get a chance to answer before Sherlock spoke again.

"She will…" He looked at Irene. "Though can you make it and not Liza? I swear to god a man dying of thirst wouldn't drink her coffee." Sarah gave another giggle before whispering her agreement on the subject and set about making 'the woman's' coffee.

Waiting until the young woman had left Irene spoke. She leant forward with a slight pout and raised eyebrow. "So…that's your type?"

"Don't be petty Irene."

"I'm not being petty I'm simply wondering. Trying to get to know you." She leant back in defence. 'Damn! Well done Irene just go ahead and give him the answer why don't you!"

"Why are you here Irene? What exactly is it you want me?" 'Shit!' "Mycroft." 'Shit! Did she hear that?'

'Poor thing. Well at least I have a chance.' "I've told you. Think." She rolled her eyes and tried to look bored with him. That usually worked.

Holmes knew she was playing him and that he was losing, but he just couldn't help it. Miss Adler had something over him. She was him, prepared to do anything to get what she wanted. "Irene…"he pause. The thought of the word that was to come out of his mouth was enough to set his heart racing, "…please. I need to know why you're here."

"You poor thing. How badly to you want to know? Tell me." She was leant over the table again, but this time much further. Her breasts resting lightly and a small amount of red lace from her bra was showing. This woman just could not help herself could she?

"Irene tell me." 'Oh what the hell. I'm single and Molly isn't. Wait? What? What has Molly got to do with this?'

"Oh tar Sarah…uhmm he was right. Your coffee is far better than her's." She smirked thanking the girl. Irene looked back towards Sherlock whose mouth was partly open in shock of Irene's speech.

'Tar? She never says "tar" Thank you yes, but not tar?'

"What?"

"You. Since when did you say 'tar' to anyone?"

"Well you're playing the game so why can't I?" was her reply as she took another sip from her new coffee, which was defiantly better than the last attempt.

"I wasn't playing with her. Her mum is the biggest gossip I've ever met and… one of Mary's friends."

"Ha, so you're being made to be nice to her by Mary?" she saw a small smile appear on his face for a second and then vanish again. But his eyes told so much more of what he was feeling at that moment.

"Grab your bag."

"Why?"

Sherlock took out a five-pound note out of his wallet and placed under his mug making sure that the waitress saw him. And as he did so he spoke, almost in a whisper, those two words Irene never thought she'd ever hear from the consulting detective.

"Y-you've pulled." Irene repeated. She felt her legs wobble as she stud and was sure that everyone could hear her heart beat as it raced against her chest. The click of her heels behind him brought her out of her heated day-dream and back to reality, which in this case wasn't going to be much different by the sounds of it. Miss Adler couldn't remember the last time she felt like this when sex was involved.