Disclaimer: All characters from BBC Sherlock are owned by Moffat and Gatiss.

The first thing Sherlock registered as he stepped into the flat was that Molly was hurt. He immediately moved towards her, pushing his dripping curls away from his forehead to get a better look at the injured pathologist. It only took him one look to deduce that some men, three apparently, had tried to rape her. A sudden rage burnt in him and he wanted to pursue those bastards. But the men were probably far away now, so it was unfeasible.

Shock was reflected in Molly's eyes and surprise was clearly etched on her exhausted face. Her mouth was agape as she stared back at him, her arms limp by her sides. For the life of him, he couldn't comprehend why she was looking at him as if he were a ghost.

"Molly?" He approached her hesitantly, not quite sure how to react in such a situation.

"Where…" she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Where were you?"

"I went for a walk."

"A walk?"

"Yes. I was bored," he shrugged. Something was wrong, and it had to do with him. He could tell from the way she clenched her fists as her eyes travelled down his face. In fact, her entire body was tensing up. She seemed to have forgotten that she was hurt and was just steadily staring at him.

"And ah, you didn't bother to leave a note? Or send me a text?" her voice rose with every word, getting shriller by the second.

Oh. There was his answer. He hadn't bothered to inform her of his whereabouts. But why should he? He always did what he wanted to do, and she was not his handler. Except that he wasn't supposed to be out in public yet. He did not tell her he was going to his own funeral. Or that he needed some time to think after watching John and Mrs Hudson cry in front of his grave. That even though he knew he needed to stay away to keep his friends safe, he still couldn't help feeling guilty, and then feeling weak for being guilty over something that wasn't his fault. That he just needed some time away from anything that reminded him of his previous life.

And she had been terrified that he had just left her without saying goodbye. She had gone in search of him, only to meet some bastards who wanted to rape her. For the second time that day, he felt a deep rush of guilt, and he tried to suppress it in frustration. He was in danger of lashing out at Molly, blaming her for making him feel such things again just when he had gotten them under control. But her injured form stirred something protective within him and he found himself unable to make her his punching bag, as much as he wanted to.

"I didn't think a note was necessary since it was just a walk."

"You…you weren't planning on leaving yet?"

He rolled his eyes. "Molly, don't be ridiculous. Where would I go? I'm still injured and can hardly go chasing down Moriarty's men now. And I would tell you when I'm going away."

Something akin to relief crossed her face and he saw her unclench her fists. They stood staring at each other for a while, and Sherlock started to feel slightly uncomfortable from the intensity of her gaze.

"You were attacked by three men who tried to rape you, unsuccessfully of course," he stated matter-of-factly, wanting to steer the attention away from him. But she didn't seem to have heard him.

Before he knew what was going on, she flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. He stiffened immediately, unused to the intimacy and surprised by her forwardness.

"You idiot," she whispered into his chest. "You bloody idiot. I thought you went away for good." And then she was sobbing, her tears soaking into his already drenched coat.

Sherlock briefly entertained the idea of stepping away from her hug, but a small voice (which sounded eerily like John's) told him it was rude to do that. She was crying, which meant that she needed comfort. From what he observed, hugs were supposed to be comforting, even if he personally didn't like them. He decided that hugging her back was the least he could do after what she had gone through because of him.

He awkwardly placed his good arm around her, feeling the weight of her body pressed against his. His hand came into contact with her skin and he realised she was dreadfully cold. Because it was the most logical thing to do, he pulled her a little closer, so that the heat from his body could transfer over to hers. She let out a contented sigh and wrapped her arms tighter around him. He was just coming to the conclusion that this hugging thing could feel rather nice when he felt her stiffen and pull away.

"Oh my god," she said, her eyes widening. "I'm so sorry! I didn't…I mean…the hug, I didn't mean to…I was –"

"Molly." He disliked it when she rambled. And she was rambling because she was afraid he was offended by her hug, and he didn't like that she thought that way. And the why of it bothered him. Why should he care about how she felt towards him?

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"It's quite alright."

"So erm…I'll just go have a hot shower and then you can use the bathroom." With that, she hurried into the toilet, leaving him to process the curious new sensations he had just experienced.

It took a while for Sherlock to convince Molly to take the bed. Despite being injured, she had wanted to continue sleeping on the sofa, stating that his injuries were worse than hers. If she were anyone else, he wouldn't have bothered making sure she was comfortable. But she was a friend, and even though he didn't apologise, it didn't mean that he didn't feel bad about what had happened. And contrary to popular belief, he was not exactly a heartless arse. He knew it was wrong to be comfortable on someone else's bed when that person wasn't feeling well. The cut on her temple wasn't serious, but he was certain her body would be sore from all the bruising.

He realised to his displeasure that Molly could be just as stubborn as he was if she wanted to be. In the end, after some arguing, with Sherlock threatening to experiment on Toby with household materials, they finally managed to reach a compromise.

And that was why he was lying next to her on the bed now.

With a bolster between them, of course.

He inwardly scoffed at the bulky item Molly had placed on the bed to separate them. It was ridiculous, really. He didn't move much while sleeping, so why should there be that thing between them? It only served to take up more space on her bed. It wasn't like he was going to lean over and touch her accidentally in his sleep. If anything, he should be the one concerned about this, given Molly's feelings for him. Maybe she would try hugging him in her sleep as well. He tried imagining what it would feel like if her body was close to him while sleeping. She would probably fit snugly against him like how she did just now. And she –

His mind yelled at him to shut up and he quickly chased those thoughts away. He was entering into dangerous territory. Maybe the bolster was a good idea after all.

Damn Molly Hooper and her hug, he thought bitterly.

That was the first time he had been held by someone since he was a child. He usually didn't like to be physically intimate with people and he rarely portrayed any physical forms affection, which he deemed as unnecessary. In fact, affection of any kind should be avoided if possible. It was akin to sharing a part of himself with someone, and he didn't like that. The only person he did hug was Mrs Hudson, and those were usually more of a quick grab and pull away, lasting about two seconds.

However, the hug from Molly, with Molly, felt different from what he imagined hugs to be. Granted, he wouldn't have put his arm around her if she didn't initiate it, but that wasn't to say that the experience was unpleasant. Her body was soft and the way she had held him was comforting.

He broke away from his train of thought, appalled at himself for thinking this way. He was Sherlock Holmes, the brilliant detective with the cold, rational mind. Affection was not his area. Frowning, he turned his body to face the wall, so that he wouldn't have to see Molly sleeping peacefully beside him.

He needed to take down the network as quickly as possible when he recovered, before Molly Hooper evoked feelings from him that he would regret. The shy pathologist was proving to be a very dangerous woman indeed.

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