30 Days (Kind of) to Fall in Love

The prompt is inspired by ericandy's 30 day OTP challenge on Tumblr.

AN: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews. It brings a smile to my face when I see that readers are enjoying this. Also, all mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: If I owned Sherlock Holmes, the rest of the world would never see him Not mine.

4. On a date

Molly was fairly certain that she had never been this nervous in her entire life. Not when she was applying for med school. Not when she had to give her dad's eulogy. Not when she had to kill Sherlock Holmes. Her first (real) date with Sherlock had her in quite a fix. She had slept in after getting home in the wee hours of the morning from the morgue, but then had gone out and got a haircut and her nails done. This routine was not normal first date protocol for Molly, but considering that the man who she had been slowly falling in love with for the past several years was finally taking her out and intended to spend the night afterwards, she figured that there was no problem with treating this one differently.

It was half six and she stood in front of her closet, debating her outfit. Her first impulse had been to go for a sparkly dress and heels, something that would be sure to attract attention. But as she stood staring at the ensemble, she remembered the debacle at Christmas and quickly decided against it. Deciding to go for something much more subdued, she pulled out her navy knit dress and nude heels. This would be something much more practical, something that she knew Sherlock valued much more than sparkles.

As she applied her mild makeup, the inspiration struck her to go with sparkles underneath. She simply couldn't help it. Molly liked to wear things that may seem girlish, but they served to make her feel pretty, even if Sherlock didn't approve. With her hair and makeup done, she fished out her black stockings and garter belt with the matching lacy bra and knickers. In anticipation of the events to transpire after the date itself, Molly knew that she would need every last bit of confidence that her undergarments may be able to give her. It was always a bit awkward the first time she slept with a guy, and, as much as she loved Sherlock, she had a feeling that it wouldn't be that different.

As she was applying her lipstick (even though she told herself she didn't actually need to wear it because Sherlock had still chosen her), she heard the key in the lock of her door. She heard the detective step through the door and call out her name. "Just a mo'," she called, grabbing her purse and stepping into her shoes. She smiled as she saw her Sherlock donned in his purple shirt, her favorite. "Hello," she said, stepping next to him and laying a soft kiss on his cheek.

Sherlock smiled at the sight of her. "Hello. You look lovely. The navy lessens the pallor of your skin," he remarked. Molly sighed; she knew that this was the closest thing to a compliment that she was likely to get and that she may as well take it.

"Thanks," she replied. "Shall we be off?" she asked, reaching for her coat.

"Hmm, one moment," he said, pulling out a box from the depths of his coat. "This is for you," he said, presenting her the box. "Open it."

Molly opened the jewelry box to see a thin silver chain with a small magnifying glass charm on it. She smiled and looked up at him. "Oh, Sherlock, it's gorgeous! I love it. Put it on for me," she asked, offering him the necklace. He obliged and she lifted the hair off of the back of her neck to aid him. His large hands came around her neck and fastened the small hook. Turning around, she asked, "how does it look?"

"Perfect," he replied. She stood on her tip toes and gently placed her lips on his mouth. Realizing that this was technically their first kiss, she kept her lips against his for a moment longer than necessary. As she pulled away, she saw a look of confusion go across his face. Before she could ask what he was thinking, he bent his head down to kiss her. She smiled against his lips as his arms came around her small body to pull it to his own. Just as she was going to put her hands into that astounding hair of his, he pulled away and grabbed her coat. "We don't want to be late Molly. Come along," he said, helping her into her coat and out the door.

After a short cab ride, they pulled up to a restaurant on Northumberland. Sherlock paid for the cab and held his hand out to assist Molly out of the cab. They walked inside to sit down at a table in the back of the darkened restaurant. There was already a candle lit and two glasses of red wine poured. Sherlock took Molly's coat and pulled out a chair for her. She smiled at how typically romantic this all was, but there was a little part, and mind you, a very little part of her, that was wondering how long he would keep this up. It wasn't to say that planning an entire evening down to every last detail wasn't Sherlock Holmes, but taking someone, let alone a woman, out to dinner and buying her jewelry was not how he usually acted.

"Well this looks lovely," she remarked, picking up the wine and tasting it. A syrah, her favorite. "How did you know?" she asked.

"Really Molly, must you ask? I stayed with you occasionally after the Fall and saw your nightly glass of wine. You prefer lighter reds, and syrah is your preferred choice," he replied.

Smirking, she asked, "how did you know I would like the necklace? Most men go for a heart or something more general. I can't say I've ever seen a woman wearing a magnifying glass."

"Would you have preferred a heart?" he asked, a frown creeping onto his face.

"Well, no-"

"I thought not," he interrupted. "You work in a lab, which is incidentally how we met. I am a detective and given the fact that magnifying glasses are often seen as a symbol of detective work, I thought that it may remind you of me, whom you seem to like."

At that moment, a large man made his way over to them and introduced himself as Angelo and began to sing Sherlock's praises. Molly smiled through his recitation of Sherlock's antics which had spared the man from a hefty jail sentence. He then brought over salads for them and finally left them to eat. Molly thought on Sherlock's words about the necklace that now lay around her neck. Deciding to once again be bold, since it had actually seemed to work out in her favour last time, she spoke. "Sherlock, I need you to know that I am fully committed to this relationship. You know that I love you and I meant it. There is no one else for me, and I want you to know that," she said, ignoring the remnants of her salad in order to look at him directly.

Sherlock turned his attention fully to her. "Molly, after I left your flat that night, I went back to 221B and thought about what you had said. In fact, I ended up thinking about you and what I felt towards you and how to respond. Please know that I will not say this the right way, but I think that you know me well enough to understand what I am trying to say. Before I had formed my relationship with John, I did not believe myself to have any friends or be even capable of sentiment of any sort. To me, the work was everything and the man was nothing. I was raised and truly believed that sentiment was a weakness. However, after the Fall and Moriarty's threat against John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson, I came to the conclusion that sentiment, while still a weakness, could also be a strength. I came to this conclusion because of you, Molly. If it weren't for you, I would not have survived Moriarty, and neither would the others. It was because of your sentiment for me and your strength that I was able to survive and destroy Moriarty's network to ensure the safety of my friends.

"I have not become a sentimental fool, but I do believe that there is some merit to having sentiment, or feelings, for others. I saw, through you, that it does not have to be a weakness; it can be the greatest strength. For those three days, I pondered all of these things in my mind palace and came to the conclusion that though I do not return your stated feeling of love, I admire your strength that you showed through the incidents with the Fall; I believe that you truly do love me and that sentiment has only served to make you stronger and able to do more things; I find you to be the only competent pathologist in London, and very possibly the world; you and John share the rather unusual ability to be able to tolerate me and my work and, indeed, assist it. As I am not attracted to John and neither is he to me, there is no desire for me to pursue a romantic relationship with him. However, you have previously stated an attraction for me and I do believe myself to be physically attracted to you, as well as mentally," he finished, in a rush.

Molly took a deep breath. "Wait, mentally," she inquired with a quizzical look.

"Your mind attracts me. The official term is a sapiosexual attraction. Your work in the lab and publications are all quite advanced and interesting. I enjoy working with you in the lab and seeing you work there and during autopsies. I do not believe I have seen a pathologist who has a better hand than yours," he informed her. She smiled and reached over to take his hands, noticing that while he had been speaking, their salads had disappeared and two steaming plates of spaghetti bolognese had appeared.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I think we're on the same page. Now this looks delicious!" Throughout the rest of their meal, they found themselves discussing John's latest girlfriend and Molly's paper that she was working on publishing at the moment. Sherlock offered to go through it with her to offer his input on it and she readily agreed. She had never been the best writer and found editing for grammar to be rather challenging. Angelo presented them with a desert of his own creation which featured a gratuitous amount of chocolate. Sherlock had remained civil throughout the meal and left a generous tip on the table, even though Angelo assured him that they didn't owe a thing.

As they made their way in the cab back to her flat, she found the nervousness from earlier in the evening making its return as she began to think about what they were about to do. Neither spoke as they drove on, but Sherlock had taken her hand in his and was gently rubbing circles on the back of it. Before she realized it, they had pulled up to her address and they were leaving the cab and walking to her door. As she let them in, she felt Sherlock's hands land on her waist and began gently rubbing. Turning around in his arms, she stood on her toes to reach his mouth.

Before she could reach his mouth, however, he spoke. "Molly, John said that I had to tell you," he blurted. Molly frowned and pulled back.

"What do you have to tell me?" she asked.

"I've never done this before."

"Well, yes, I gathered you'd never had a girlfriend from our conversation at dinner," she said, taking his coat from him and leading him to her couch where they both sat.

"No, that's not what I meant," he said, suddenly standing and surprising her. He began to pace.

"Sherlock, what's wrong. What did you mean?" she asked, concerned about the reaction he was having.

"I"mavirgin," he mumbled.

"What? Sherlock, I can't hear you. What did you say?" Molly asked.

"I'm a virgin," he shouted, turning to look at her directly. "I just haven't ever had time or the motivation to not be a virgin, and John said that I should tell you before asking you to have sex with me and 'pop my cherry,' so to speak," he said in a rush. Molly could tell that he was quite upset about this and went over to him where he stood. She wound her arms around his torso and laid her head against his chest.

"Are you embarrassed about that? Because you shouldn't be, but it's ok if you are," she said softly. His arms came down to wrap around her.

"No, I just don't exactly know what I'm doing in terms of, that," he replied. Molly felt some of the tension that had been clear in him fade as they continued their embrace.

"I think that if you want to do it, you need to be able to say it," she said with a smile. "And, I don't think that we should do that tonight. As long as I've wanted that particular event to transpire, I don't think that either of us is quite ready."

"You've wanted to sleep with me?" Sherlock asked, looking down at the woman he wasn't currently holding on to.

Molly blushed. "Well, um, yes. I have," she murmured.

"And you've thought about it?" he asked, smirking. She buried her head into his chest.

"Yes," she squeaked.

"What exactly have you thought about?"

"Um…"

"Molly, I do believe if you want it to happen, you have to be able to talk about it," he responded to her lack of information.

"I don't know, kissing and stuff."

Sherlock smiled, "indeed. Kissing and stuff. I'll have to google how one goes about 'kissing and stuff.'"

Molly pulled away. "Actually, this is going to seem pretty pathetic and, please don't judge me, but I dreamt some things and wrote them down in my dream diary. You could read it, if you like," she said, feeling almost consumed by her nerves.

"I think I should enjoy that. I should also leave so that you can go to bed. You have to work tomorrow, don't you," he asked.

"Yep, but it's during the day, so my sleep schedule won't be too off. I really hate working the night shifts. The only thing good that ever happens then is when you come in because you can't sleep and proceed to annoy me with your experiments." Molly gave him a smile and went to her room and pulled out her dream diary. When she re-entered the room, Sherlock had put on his coat and scarf and was waiting by the door. "Here," she offered it to him.

"I shall read this and take copious amount of notes," he promised. He bent his head down to hers and kissed her. "Goodnight Molly Hooper. And thank you for an excellent first date," he said, exiting and giving her a wink as he left.

As she closed the door, Molly let her exuberance break through as she jumped with the joy of having had a successful first date with Sherlock Holmes and receiving confirmation that he was not putting on a front, but was actually interested in her and in their relationship.