Dedicated to Sunneshine123.

The smell of strawberries sent butterflies to the tummy of Sherlock Holmes. Whenever he smelt that divine smell, he always felt a little bit better, no matter what. He knew exactly what had caused it as well.

Molly Hooper.

Her bloody shampoo smells like strawberries and whenever he hugged her, the smell always lingered around his nose. There was only one occasion that Molly's shampoo made him feel sick. John and Sherlock sat together in a cab on their way to Scotland Yard.

"God, I can smell strawberries," John groaned, scrunching his nose up.

"What's your point?" Sherlock asked, hoping he wasn't turning red.

John rolled his eyes and gave Sherlock a look of disbelief. "I'm allergic to strawberries, you prat."

During the 20 minute cab drive, John had vomited because of the smell of strawberries and Sherlock had to pay the cabbie double what he already owed. The duo walked to Lestrade's office and sank into the chairs.

"Can I smell strawberries?" Lestrade asked.

John looked at Sherlock and frowned. "I think you smell like strawberries."

"I may have used the wrong shampoo this morning. Can we please get on with this?" he snapped back.

"Erm, no, I don't buy strawberry smelling shampoo… how did you use the wrong shampoo?" John asked.

"John! Please! Give it a rest! Gavin, if you could please carry on."

"It's Greg. And I want to know how you made this terrible mistake as well. What on earth were you up to, this morning?"

Sherlock gave him a pointed look and Lestrade caved in.

~oOo~

[Post Reichenbach, pre Empty Hearse]

The detective and his pathologist paced around a bookstore together in another country together, a country that Mycroft had banned Sherlock from mentioning in the future due to complications. Sherlock was trying to do something nice for his girlfriend on the trip and the duo wound up in a bookstore. Molly was trying to find her favourite book in this foreign language and Sherlock was not complaining at all. He enjoyed watching her pick up a few book, scrunch her eyes at the title and tilt her head to the left.

"Why is it your favourite book?" he asked her as she put another one back.

"I just really related to the protagonist when I was younger. Our dads both died with similar events and it helped to have someone going through what I was going through," she responded.

Molly never spoke about her dad. On the off chance that she did, her eyes always watered up and she'd excuse herself from the conversation. Sherlock rubbed the small of her back and guided her away from the section they were at.

"I know exactly where the book is," he told her, knowing she'd want to leave soon.

~oOo~

The duo were in a large park in the undisclosed country. Sherlock had set up a picnic for them, hoping Molly would enjoy it. Whenever Sherlock took Molly out of England since his staged death, he always made sure that he treated her to something nice as a thank you.

After they had eaten, Molly began to feel rather tired and lay her head in Sherlock's lap. He picked up the book and began to read to her in English.

"It all began and ended on a stormy night nearly twelve years ago when I was only a teenager," he began.

~oOo~

It was a stormy night the night before the strawberry related cab vomit. Molly was curled on the couch with a glass of wine and Toby. She was watching the latest episode of Glee when it began. It started with loud thunder claps and soon, the sky was being illuminated by the lightning. Molly took a few more hasty sips of wine and brought Toby closer to her.

After a few more minutes of loud noise and bright skies, Molly's electricity cut off. With a small shriek, she dropped the wine glass and pulled Toby to her chest before navigating her way to her bedroom.

She grabbed her phone from the bedside table and snuck under the duvet. She typed in the well-known phone number into her phone and pressed it to her ear.

"Hello… yes, I'm afraid now isn't a good time, I'm in the middle of something. Can I call you back later?" Sherlock asked on the other end. Molly couldn't help but feel hurt at the impersonal-ness of Sherlock's tone and words. He was with John, though, and he hadn't talked to John about them yet.

"Erm, yes. Actually, Sherlock, don't worry. It's fine. We can talk later. I just missed you."

"Alright. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

He hung up and Molly dropped the phone over the side of her bed, just before a large clap of thunder. She whimpered and snuggled further into her bed. Toby managed to free himself from her death grip and jumped out of the bed.

Molly could feel herself hyperventilating. She couldn't breathe and every breath was short and shallow. It had been a stormy night so many years ago. She had a fear of storms as it was and that night solidified the phobia. It was a stormy night when her dad died of a heart attack in the room opposite hers. Little Molly had crept out of her room in fear and into her parents room to find her dad lying on the bed, not breathing.

~oOo~

Sherlock paid the cabbie and ran up the stairs to Molly's flat. He opened the door with his key and looked around. Power was out. Molly had left in a rush and the windows were still open. Sherlock tugged his coat and jacket off, leaving them to dry on the hooks beside the door. He closed the windows while toeing his shoes off in the living room. He picked up the shards of glass from the broken wine glass and disposed of them quickly.

He opened Molly's door when a loud thunderclap sounded, masking the sound of the door opening and closing. He unbuttoned his shirt and left it on the ground before crawling under the duvet to see his whimpering girlfriend. He wrapped his arms around her and she cuddled into his chest. He could feel her sobs and he pulled her tighter to his chest. She wrapped her arms around his torso and pulled herself as close to him as possible.

Sherlock stroked her head and planted kisses in her hair as she sobbed. The storm eventually subsided as Molly drifted off to sleep. Sherlock couldn't leave her, not like this and not now.

~oOo~

After breakfast with Molly, Sherlock had a shower before rushing home as to not alert suspicion with John. He crept back into bed and frowned as he realised he could smell strawberries. His jaw dropped as he realised what he had done. He had used Molly's shampoo. He was going to be annoyed if John commented on it.

A/N: Hey guys!

How was that? Originally, I was going to do some drabbles but I managed to tie together some ideas. I hope the time jumps made sense…

Anyway, that was favourite book/Molly's shampoo/picnic. I just added in storms because it was storming yesterday and I was thinking about this prompt.

Righty-o. Now, I think I'm almost at the end of my prompts (I think I have one left) so I'll start a new poll of three prompts and post the two most desired prompt. Does that make sense? I'll post two a week (unless I have more time/motivation or I have prompts sent in). So yes, feel free to continue to send in prompts, I'll write them right away.

K. I hope you munchkins enjoyed this chapter. I had some feels while writing it (my username is very accurate).

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