It's been three days since Molly and Sherlock had pasta at the morgue and during that time, Molly has not heard from him, except for the late night text indicating he intended to give her some space to think. For which Molly was grateful. Sherlock has the tendency to overwhelm people.

He had called it "courtship" and Molly was understandably thrilled. She had pined for the consulting detective for years; she knew that what made him so fascinating to her-that he was brilliantly different-would also make things that much more complicated. The chance to clear her head away from his heady presence was a welcome necessity. She spent the time alternating between being giddy at the prospect of being in a relationship with him, and panicking; her various insecurities rearing their ugly heads.

Sitting in front of her desk computer, she glanced up to look at the counter where she and Sherlock had sat eating for probably the hundredth time in three days. Each time brought a smile and a shake of the head as the memory was both pleasant and a bit baffling. Who would have thought? Molly internally squealed. She'd hoped for the best, of course, but it's not everyday that what you've hoped for becomes potentially achievable.

It had been one of those rare weeks when only a few routine autopsies came in during her shifts, and because of this, she's managed to get caught up with all the paperwork she'd had to put off. She saved all the files on her computer, cleaned up her cluttered desk, and glimpsed at her wristwatch.

Three hours to go. She wondered how to fill her time, vaguely aware of a hope for the doors to burst open and reveal a certain consulting detective walking in blooming in the back of her mind.

Stretching out in her seat, she muttered, "I need all the help I can get." She took out her mobile, and sent off a text.

"Excuse me." Mary smiled at John. They were currently seated at a park bench across from where Mary taught, having one of their rare lunch dates. She took out her mobile from her pocket. "Huh."

John raised an eyebrow in question.

"Molly just sent me a text. Here." Mary smiled, handing him her mobile.

Hi. This is a bit awkward.
Sorry to disturb your lunch date!
Pretty sure John's told you already,
so can I take you up on that lady's night-thing?
I need a girl friend right about now.

:) M

John couldn't help his grin. "Told you so. Sherlock's managed to shock her even more than usual." He gave her back her phone, repositioning his arm to that it was back around her shoulder. "To think, she once helped him fake his death." The memory wasn't exactly a sweet one for the army doctor, but time and recent developments have helped to erase the last of the ambivalence he felt towards it. He'd still rather it hadn't happened, but acknowledged that mostly good have come out of the event.

Mary crinkled her nose, half amused and half worried. "But I don't know Sherlock as well as you do. She might benefit more from a conversation with you." She said, taking a sip from the vacuum flask filled with brewed coffee John had brought along for them to share.

John chuckled, squeezing her shoulder. "Hmm. But you're both women. It'll be easier for you to empathize. I'm highly biased towards those two finally getting together; I might not give her sound advice. Besides, " He turned to her, "I know the two of you talk about me. I might be tempted to prod for details. You know, for... self-improvement." he winked mischievously, causing Mary to laugh.

Sure!
Is Friday okay?
Or is this one of those A.S.A.P. things?
Either's fine by me. :-D

MM

A reply came in about a couple of minutes later.

Thanks!
I had to take the day shift for one of the doctors.
Is tonight okay?
I'll bring the ice cream.
Er, don't you have plans with John?

:) M

"It's a good thing we didn't plan anything." Mary remarked. John had taken the graveyard shift for a week at the A&E beginning that night. It hampered his and Mary's dating life, but he felt he had to make it up to fellow doctors who covered for him every time he'd had to run off on a case with Sherlock. John nodded, busy chewing his sandwich, his other hand busy slowly tracing circles on his girlfriend's shoulder.

Molly breathed a sigh of relief when she'd received Mary's assurance.

She'd already admitted to Mary that she envies her just a little bit. Mary was far more adept at socializing, and comfortable in her own skin. It really was not a surprise that John and she had hit it off. She was just the little ray of sunshine John had needed when he was left grieving after the Fall. When Sherlock had returned, she'd been one of those who'd encouraged John to leave the flat he'd moved into and back into Baker Street to once again share rooms with his best friend.

Add to that the fact that she'd viewed John's adventures with Sherlock with almost as much fascination as the army doctor himself. She'd be scared and worried whenever a particular one became too dangerous, but was mostly encouraging, and avidly listened to John's retelling of their exploits. Even Sherlock had reluctantly given her his stamp of approval, and had rarely actively tried to disrupt his best friend's dates.

I would do well to take a page off of Mary's book. Molly had made up her mind: she'd encourage Sherlock's efforts and wait and see how everything progresses. I owe myself that at least.

She decided it was as good a time as any to get lunch, and stood, walking over to the doors, where she almost bumped into the affable Mike Stamford.

"Hey Molls," Stamford beamed at her. "There was a delivery guy at the receptionist's just now. Brought these," he handed her a coffee cup and a small brown paper bag. "Said these were already paid for. Thought I'd spare him the shock of the dead bodies." Stamford chuckled. "Oh, and here's the note that came with it."

Molly eyed the food cagily. Ever since the business with Jim, she'd been wary of surprises. Only when Stamford showed her the envelope with the familiar handwriting did she eagerly take them from him.

"Thanks, Mike. You didn't have to."

He waved her off. "It's nothing, really. I was on my way here anyway. It's nearing the end of the month, inventory and things." He rolled his eyes, telling her he'd really rather he didn't have to do it. "Go eat that upstairs, it's time you took a break anyway."

Waving goodbye, Molly briskly walked off, her hands clutching her lunch close to her chest.

Thought you might need these. SH

Once Molly had settled on a corner of the hospital cafeteria, she opened the small cream envelope that had simply said "Doctor M. Hooper" in Sherlock's familiar scrawl, and took out the folded note inside. She read it over at least twice, before taking a sip of her coffee.

He remembers how I take it. Molly smiled, and turned to open the brown paper bag. The smell of cinnamon immediately wafted out, and her mouth watered. Inside was a rather large cinnamon bun, and she smiled, remembering a day during Sherlock's hiding when she'd managed to convince him to eat lunch along with her.

"You are aware that what you're doing is rather unhygienic." Sherlock had pointed out.

They were seated in her small kitchen, and after she'd handed Sherlock's sandwich to him, she'd proceeded to pick apart the cinnamon bun she'd purchased for herself, taking out the raisins.

She smirked, not glancing up to look at him. "Excuse you, I just washed my hands."

Sherlock took a reluctant bite of his sandwich and glared at her. "You should've bought something else if you hated raisins that much."

Molly looked up at him then. "But I like these." she prodded the bun for emphasis, as well as to irritate the not-so-dead-detective seated before her. "Dad and I used to eat these for lunch all the time. Only he'd be the one to take out the raisins."

Sherlock rolled his eyes then. "Sentiment." he spit the word out as if he'd been cussing.

She glared back. "Just eat your sandwich."

Molly laughed at the memory, and was about to get up to fetch a fork to help her disassemble the bun when her mobile sounded off with a text.

That one doesn't have raisins.

SH

"Hi!" Molly held up a bag containing the ice cream she'd brought with her when Mary's door opened, a big smile on her face.

After Mary had ushered her in and they'd gotten settled in the living room, Mary proceeded to bombard her with questions, teasing Molly when she told of Sherlock's parting shot in the car, and gushing when she detailed the meal the two of them had shared at the morgue.

"Who knew Sherlock Holmes was a romantic?" Mary shook her head, taking a spoonful of the vanilla bean ice cream. "So what's stopping you? Aside from the obvious, I mean." Between Molly and John, Mary had a pretty clear idea of Sherlock's treatment of her "Pre-Fall" and during Sherlock's brief stay with Molly at her flat.

Molly sighed. "I told him this already, and John's probably said as much." She stared at her spoon. "It took me a pretty long time before I could face Sherlock without stammering like a school girl... and he's my friend now. I want this. I really do. And I plan to let this, whatever this is..." she gestured with her spoon.

"Courtship. That's what he calls it." Mary pointed out.

Molly giggled, "Yes, that. Gosh, we sound like a pair of old-timey teenagers. We're both in our thirties!" she went back to staring at her spoon, brows wrinkled in apparent concentration. "I plan to let this happen. But that doesn't mean this doesn't scare me." She smiled.

Mary took a hold of her hand and squeezed it. "Molls, the good things always do."

Declining Mary's offer to sleep over, Molly did an unusual thing and hailed a cab. She was in a good mood and decided to forgo the Tube for her version of a little pampering. While on the way back home she sent Sherlock a text.

Didn't get a chance to text you earlier.
Thanks for the coffee and raisin-free bun. :)
I didn't know they had those.

x M

She received a reply just as she was nearing her flat. Molly waited until she'd gone inside before reading the message.

They don't.
Owner owes me a favour.
Glad you liked it.

SH

Molly was still debating with herself on what to say in response when she received another message.

What does the 'x' stand for?

SH

She stifled a giggle, her eyes widening, and hiding her face, quite forgetting that she was quite alone in her darkened flat. She was still standing behind the door and had not even bothered to turn the lights on when she'd come in, she'd been to eager to read his texts. She hadn't realized she'd been adding those to her 'signature' in her texts to him lately.

Don't worry about it.
Just something I do.

M

Sure enough, Sherlock saw through this.

You didn't text with one of those before.
That last one you sent didn't have it either.
Your gift had three on the tag.

SH

Uh-oh. Molly knew he was referring to the gift she'd given her that ill-fated Christmas they'd spent together at Baker Street. She decided she was too embarrassed and tried to deflect the conversation.

It's late. :)
Thanks again for the free lunch.
I'll make it up to you next time you're at Bart's.

M

Standing in the middle of the sitting room in Baker Street, Sherlock hollered to John, who was up in his room getting ready to leave for his shift at the A&E.

"Yes? What is it?" John, used to his flatmate's moods, walked down the stairs, tugging at his shirt collar.

Sherlock turned to him, disgruntled. "Why won't Molly answer my question?"

"I don't know. What is it?"

"I asked her what the 'x' meant." Sherlock showed him their texts.

John's eyebrows almost met his hairline. "You're not serious? You really don't know?"

"Would I be asking if I did?" Sherlock glared at his mobile, as if he could frighten it into answering him.

John shook his head, and grabbed his coat. "Someday, you'll have to go over the particulars of your childhood and subsequent adolescence with me, Sherlock."

"Just answer the question, John!"

John stifled the urge to laugh. The poor bloke wouldn't appreciate it. "It stands for a kiss, you git."

After the words came out of his mouth, he saw Sherlock pause, and then walk towards the window. He had his back turned towards John, but the army doctor saw his face clearly reflected in the glass.

Sherlock was trying, and failing, to suppress a pleased smile.

That night, Molly received one last text before she fell asleep.

I've been informed of the symbolism.
Good night.

x S

Author's Note: Whoo! This was a long one. I wanted to get the Mary/John and Mary/Molly dynamic established and sneak in some more fluff before moving on to another chapter. :)

My sincerest thanks to everyone who added this story to their fave and follow lists, and of course, to all those who have generously given their reviews, which are always welcome. You sure know how to encourage an aspiring writer like me.

I'll probably upload one more chapter before the week (or, if insomnia strikes, before the day) ends, in the mean time, I hope you all enjoyed this installment. I'm still not sure exactly how many chapters this will take, but I'll try not to keep you waiting too long. (I can't believe I just "said" that!)

Ta,

~Liberi Ad Somnia