Note: This chapter's all about Molly and Tom. Hope you enjoy nevertheless. We'll get more of Mollcroft in the next chapters. It's about time to get the really interesting plot started. :)

Sorry for possible spelling errors etc...

Once again thank you for your patience and for the nice reviews I receive. I genuinely hope you stick with this story (:

John's wedding was an absolutely fabulous evening. At least for Molly.

Tom, as it turned out, was a very quiet but clever and gentle man, an absolute opposite to Sherlock when it came to his character, even though his looks (Molly tried so hard to avoid thinking about this fact too much) were almost equal to her bygone infatuation. Tom also seemed to like Molly very much and he was not a shy man to try and hide his feelings for her. On the contrary: He showed his admiration fairly and squarely.

On the first day they met, the two of them were a bit concerned they might not have much in common and might find no topic to talk about (which was most of all Molly's biggest problem when she was going out with men). But fate seemed - for once - to be on the pathologist's side and after the first few minutes she grew a bit more confident and openly talked about herself. She didn't even notice at first that she was talking so much that he had no possibility to reveal much of his own person. Molly only realised at the end of their rendezvous in the very same café she's been to with Val not that long ago. When she began to apologise, he only stopped her with a wave of his hand and told her he'd had had a wonderful afternoon and listening to her little stories has been a pleasure for him. Molly could feel the heat rising from her stomach, even now, when she only thought about how soft his eyes and sincere his smile had seemed.

Their second date, only one day had passed since their first meeting, but none of them two had wanted to wait longer to meet the other again, was a bit of a humiliation for Molly, even though Tom had assured her a hundred times that it wasn't.

It began with the young waitress that tried very best to get Tom's attention while Molly only sat there in resignation and didn't know how to behave or what to say. Even though Molly considered the waitress much more beautiful than herself, she found Tom's eyes lingering on her the whole evening, sometimes a secret smile on his lips. Today he took the chance to talk about his past, and she listened. He had a very nice voice indeed. Molly studied his features and felt caught when he asked her if he'd have a spot somewhere. She didn't reply, but lowered her eyes to study her knees instead, when he carefully reached out for her left hand lying on the table and held it for a while, not saying a word and merely smiling knowingly. After they'd eaten they ordered some extra wine and started a new conversation. Molly inwardly cringed a little when he asked her for about profession.

„I... I work with... dead people.", she sad, a bit lame.

He looked at her in silence for a couple of seconds and broke out into laughter. „For a second I just imagined you as a gruesome assassin but I guess that's not what you meant by that."

His nonchalance made her laugh as well. „No... no, no...", Molly held her aching sides and tried to steady her voice. „I mean... I work in a morgue."

„So a pathologist, hm?" He seemed interested. Not deterred at all.

Just the very moment she wanted to explain in detail what she does for a living, the incredible persistent waitress came back and failed miserably again trying to catch some of Tom's attention that was solely focussed on Molly.

When he drove her home and accompanied her to her door, he leaned down to kiss her, but held still right before his lips would meet hers. „You look particularly stunning tonight, Molly." He stroked her cheek with his thumb, Molly didn't even remember when he'd put his hand there, because the only thing she has had on her mind for days was the sensation of feeling the warmth of his body pressed against hers in the dark night, his kiss soft and yet demanding more, how his other hand had held her close to him. And the sudden solitude when he broke the kiss and wished her a good night, drove away in his car and Molly was left alone on the steps to her door. But when her head hit the pillow that night, she had no nightmares and she didn't feel alone, knowing that they would meet again.

This went on for a week when all at once – When did the time go by so fast? - it was the big day. John's big day, to be exactly, but Molly felt it was a big day for her as well. Tom and her had been going out for only a week but Molly had fallen head over heels into love with him, and ensuing from his little affections she guessed he felt the same. Yesterday they had been talking about their encounters, using the word relationship for the very first time. Molly didn't know much about functioning relationships, but she hoped this would be the one to last.

Val had only said: I knew it. But you never listen to. Girl, I'm giving you important advice. If you and I'd be left alone on a deserted island – even then you ain't gonna listen to me, right?

Molly was glad she finally gave in to Val's hooking, though sometimes she wondered if Mycroft's visit was the actual trigger.

At John's wedding, when she introduced Tom to all her friends she could practically feel some people's glances, they gave her chills. Molly felt very uncomfortable around strangers and she knew that they were talking. He was so good looking, especially today in his superb tuxedo, while she, in spite of the fact that she was wearing the lovely buttercup yellow dress, only looked like... Molly.

Mary had assured her that she looked fabulous and that Tom seemed to be very nice, which Molly confirmed. But Mary didn't have much time to chat so Molly was left alone for a second while Tom was engaged in a conversation by Sherlock.

Uh-oh.

Molly took in a deep breath. She had to calm down, there was no way Sherlock would publicly offend or attack her new boyfriend the way he often did... would he?

When they were told to take up their places, since it was time for the best man's speech (Oh dear, Molly thought while glimpsing at Sherlock who looked unfamiliarly tense today).

After the strange afternoon (Molly figured out later that there was some kind of crime going on that Sherlock and John wanted to cover up to avoid a panic) and when the real party began, Tom asked her for a dance and with a slight blush, since she wasn't a good dancer, she took the hand he offered her and let herself be quided through the crowd. When he put his hand on her waist and clothed his face in smiles, she didn't care for the others, the chattering didn't matter, Sherlock didn't matter and there was only Tom, who gently guided her moves.

The only thing that made her break eye contact with him was when Sherlock rushed out of the hall, she could've sworn he'd had a sorrowful look on his face.

She remembered what Mycroft had told her.

„Sorry...", she whispered and let go of Tom - and ran after Sherlock. She caught him walking down the path that led to the cottage, alone and with his collar pulled up. She knew that he did that when he wanted to appear untouchable. Yet, when she thought of Mycroft's strange behaviour and how hurried he had tried to leave the event, she knew that there were more emotions torturing him than he'd ever let anyone know.

„Sherlock?", she asked shyly, though she was sure he'd heard her advancing.

„I'm fine, Molly.", he said, without looking at her, striding along and obviously not interested in a cheer-up. „Go back and enjoy that evening. You deserve a bit of happiness." Molly arched a brow, even whilst he could not see her.

„And you don't?"

„I don't enjoy gatherings as such."

„Because you feel like an outsider? How'd you think I feel all the time?", she continued. He snorted disdainful. She stopped and wanted him to face her, yet he kept walking and only turned around to add one thing instead of answering her question.

„Goodbye, Molly. Present John my compliments."

Molly went back to the cottage, where Tom was waiting for her at the entrance, offering her his jacket, since it was a cold May night. She gladly accepted his offer. It smelled exactly like him and calmed her agitation. She told him what had just happened. He only nodded briefly, there was nothing he could add.

When it was past 3 in the morning, the two of them drove to Molly's flat and immediately fell asleep in bed. She hadn't even bothered to remove her make up and only exchanged the pretty dress with a simple pair of pyjamas, he fell asleep as he was, he only took off his shoes. And since Molly had been wearing his tuxedo jacket, he didn't have to take that one off.

Molly was a restless sleeper and accidently woke him up several times, and when Tom had had enough of her straddling, he locked her in his arms until she lied still on his torso.

When Molly awoke the next morning, Tom was gone, having left a little breakfast for her and a note that said: I'm sorry I couldn't stay. Will call you later. I love you.

And despite the fact that he'd written I love you, which was clearly supposed to make her happy, she could only think of Sherlock... and his goodbye. It didn't take her much time to come to the conclusion she would have to pay Mycroft a visit. She also felt like she it owed Mycroft, he'd asked her for her help - and she'd just rejected him what he obviously needed. And now the only thing she could do... was to help him watch over Sherlock. Molly finally felt that Mycroft hadn't been exaggerating – when it came to John, his brother acted unpredictable.

Additional note: And yes, this is a Mollcroft fanfiction. You'll be awarded with more of them next time, promise!