Oh my gosh, thank you everyone for the response to this story. And this is definitely not finished (as you can obviously see, as I am posting a new chapter.) We'll try to do an episode per chapter, going up to season three .

And help was just what Molly Hooper did, both to her own amazement and self-loathing. There were so many times in a single day in which she couldn't believe the turn that her life had taken. Wake up, make a cuppa, brush teeth, head off to work. Examine dead bodies, work in getting off Sherlock Holmes wherever possible. She felt like a queen. A goddess. Like the world was hers.

Sure, he didn't seem to care much about Molly's needs, and always hobbled out on unsteady legs before she could say much about it, but he would do the cutest thing where when he was close, he would bury his face in her shoulder! That sort of kind of made it worth it, maybe.

And somehow, Molly felt like the sexiest woman alive because of all this. She could take on the sexiest woman in Britain in a sexy-off and Sherlock would certainly pick her.

Molly took that back in her mind, grimacing and cursing softly, as she remembered another thing.

Having felt much more confident in her own skin, Molly began wearing more flattering clothes to work. Makeup, even, sometimes, if she felt up to the task of putting it on that morning. She could practically feel her male colleagues brimming with all kinds of disgusting, unsavory comments - though of course they said nothing, and the illusion was shattered. And she didn't care.

What she did care about, though, was the opinion of one man she sometimes had the privilege of working with.

When seeing Molly in her makeup and heels and tighter pencil skirts, the consulting detective could only roll his eyes and snort - almost laugh, even. And even though she kept smiling, deep down it devastated her. Why was her confidence so funny to him? Apparently the man she felt sexy for being around did not find her half as sexy as she herself did! What a disappointment. SHE was a disappointment.

But perhaps Sherlock Holmes noticed this one day in particular more than others.

Obviously he had known it all along, or else he would not have done anything to acknowledge it, but when the consulting detective arrived at her work station one day with a ridiculous heart-shaped box of chocolates, Molly had to say she was a little confused.

Had February 14th come so soon? Part of her wanted to check if it wasn't the 15th and this man had not just raided the bargain candy. Somehow that occurred to her as something he would do.

But it didn't occur to Sherlock Holmes; who had definitely, despite his own self loathing in the process, went out of his way to buy this woman a gift for Valentine's Day; that she would think these things. That Molly, despite all of her 'confidence', would never be able to see it for what it was, a simple gift.

Was it... A backhanded compliment? Was he calling her typical? Of course a boring old thing like Molly Hooper would enjoy CHOCOLATES, ugh, what a stupid woma-

"It's the least I could do," said Sherlock Holmes, interrupting the self-loathing she was so deeply experiencing. "If you don't mind accepting it."

Molly eyes the box of chocolates, a nervous smile crossing her face. "H-how thoughtful, thank you..."

She took it awkwardly, as if it was given to her by her brother. Sherlock tried to hide his scowl. She didn't want something like this from him. Stupid! Stupid! STUPID!

And thus spoke Sherlock Holmes, "I thought of perhaps buying you roses. Not red, of course, some other color that more accurately encompasses our relationship. But I wouldn't have guessed that you followed the language of flowers, so I decided against it. And I guessed that you would enjoy chocolates - those with fruit and various cremes in them. You seem the type to like milk and white chocolates as well. Nothing too bitter."

Molly's teeth unclenched at the end of the consulting detective's speech, now realizing that the possibility of an insult had now passed.

"So I bought you chocolates - a simple gift for a simple woman."

Or not.

Molly hugged the box to her chest awkwardly, thanking Sherlock. Meekly.

... And an even more awkward silence fell upon them.

Sherlock then slipped a hand under Molly's chin, tipping it up enough to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Please have a good Valentine's Day, then, Molly."

He tightened his scarf around his neck, giving a light sigh as he turned on his heel to go.

And just as he was out the door, Molly managed a shaky "Th-thank you...!"

In that same moment, she realized that on this day, Sherlock Holmes came to see her without needing to use her. He came, of his own free will, on no kind of business terms, to visit her. They hadn't shagged or even kissed.

He had come because he had wanted to give her a gift for valentines day. And despite the insult added on to the end, Molly was touched.

A new case, that's what he needed. He needed something to keep his mind busy and off of a certain pathologist. He wasn't sure what possessed him to give Molly something for Valentine's Day, but what he did realize is that it wasn't well received. And he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why.

Sherlock sat down on the couch in his flat and steepled his fingers underneath his chin.

Maybe she wasn't interested in him. Of course she had seemed like she was in the past, but she may have gotten over that by now. That thought made something in Sherlock's stomach feel very uncomfortable and he felt the urge to punch a wall. (He didn't take time to analyze why.)

A realization came over Sherlock that made him scowl, Molly wasn't satisfied with their sexual encounters. All the data was there: she never initiated contact with him, she had been wearing more fitted clothing (obviously she realized that he had no interest in such things, and she must be trying to get someone else's attention), she looked very uncomfortable when given a Valentine's Day gift. Something that his extensive research told him that women enjoyed from the object of their affections.

He picked up his violin and began sawing out a horrible combination of notes that had Mrs. Hudson wincing in her room below.

Everything led him to one conclusion... He was not up to par with his sexual prowess. He had to admit, he didn't have much experience in that area, but he thought he had the general concept.

Sherlock quickly set down his instrument and did a search on his phone. His blue eyes widened dramatically as the reality dawned on him. He grinned and once again started playing his violin, this time a happy tune that matched his mood.

He had not been attending to Molly's needs. Well, that could soon be fixed.

Sherlock was distracted from his goal as he picked up an interesting case about a banker, a Chinese circus, and the odd letter M. But as soon as that was resolved, Sherlock set about trying to give Molly the most satisfying experiences of her life.

Its a bit difficult to keep Sherlock in character, isn't it? Well, binaryshenanigans and I are trying our best.

Once again, thank you for the support and positive reviews/favorites/follows. Though I guess they'r eonly positive reviews, seeing as follows and favorites can't really be positive or negative. Or I guess they would because if you didn't like it, you wouldn't add it...

Anyway, rambling, see you next time.

-Riley

P.S. Sorry this one's shorter, both of us have been sick.