Usual disclaimers: I own nothing...I just worship at the altar of Moffat and Gatiss and ACD.

Thanks for all the reviews , they are greatly appreciated and apologies for the delay in this chapter...life got in the way.

Chapter 3

Molly's in the Lab Office

Molly slid her phone into the pocket of her lab coat and sighed. She really wished that she'd not sent John a text asking that question, and she really really wished that John's reply had not been what it was. The idea that Sherlock would suddenly start find women interesting made her stomach lurch. Molly still clearly remembered that Christmas Eve when Sherlock had identified that woman...not by her face. That night still haunted her. Who was 'that woman'...how did she know Sherlock...how did HE know her? Still, thought Molly, ever the optimist, if Sherlock was interested in the new pathologist, then at least he indicated that he wasn't...totally married to his work But with Sherlock you could never be sure.

She sighed again and pulled a stack of files towards her, she might as well clear some paperwork while there was a lull in the daily routine of the morgue and the likelihood of Sherlock coming back anytime soon was minimal after his recent encounter with Caroline. She opened the first file and began copying her findings into the official report. Slowly she lost herself in the tedium of the work and her internal monologue relating to Sherlock slipped into her subconscious.

The clock slowly edged towards coffee time.

Molly worked her way methodically through the files until only one remained and that would need to be completed by Caroline when she finished her current autopsy, Molly slid the file over to Caroline's side of the desk and stood, enjoying the crack of her spine as she stretched. Coffee that's what I need...Just as she reached for her bag under the desk, her phone beeped.

It was John.

R U FREE FOR COFFEE? JW

Molly stared at the message. Hadn't John gone back to 221b with Sherlock? Her fingers tapped a reply.

NOW? MH

IF POSSIBLE, YES... JW

Molly frowned, unless she was reading far too much into this, it seemed as if John was concerned about something. Something he didn't want to discuss with Sherlock.

ON MY WAY, MEET ME AT THE CAFE ON THE CORNER. MH

THANKS JW.

Molly slid the phone into her handbag and slipped off her lab coat, just as Caroline emerged from the cold room. Before she could speak, Molly blurted out "Sorry...have to nip out for five minutes...won't be long. Do you want me to bring anything back for you?"

Caroline looked over as she threw her latex gloves into the bin. "I'm fine, thanks. Don't rush back I've got the paperwork to complete so I'll cover the office."

Molly smiled her thanks and turned and left the morgue.

John is on the pavement outside 221b

John was still on the pavement outside 221B Baker Street when his phone beeped.

"DO YOU THINK SH IS INTERESTED THE NEW PATHOLOGIST? MH"

John frowned before replying "JUST WONDERING THAT MYSELF! JW" but not in the same way you are Molly.

John replied to Molly's text and slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned...

He watched Sherlock's retreating back and frowned. He really was a total arse at times. What had Sherlock seen or imagined he'd seen in this new pathologist. Maybe after all that had happened with Moriarty, he'd become paranoid to the point of delusion? But even John couldn't begin to acknowledge Sherlock as delusional.

Pain in the arse...Dick... Genius... yep that's him...but not delusional...bugger, that means he's on to something.

John was used to being a man of action, after all he had been one of Her Majesty's serving soldiers, been awarded medals in her name, been injured in the line of duty. He had thought he would never regain the camaraderie of his fellow soldiers; never again feel that rush of adrenalin in battle. He had been lost in a world that didn't know danger. Until he'd met Sherlock, and despite his regular tirades against his less socially acceptable behaviour, he acknowledged that Sherlock had saved him and shown him that however wild and improbable his theories were, 99% of the time they were right, apart from the one thing he always missed. But John pondered; it was a good thing that the remaining 1% never seemed to be critical.

John followed Sherlock into 221b and into the flat they shared. Sherlock was already hunched over his laptop, pecking away furiously at the keys while simultaneously reading a text message.

"John! Tea for me"

John glanced at Sherlock with exasperation and then into the kitchen, groaning at the state of the kitchen table and the various stains that were covering its surface. Looking at the rest of the room, John shuddered, it looked like a student digs...of the less reputable variety, not the abode of an ex-army doctor and an upper-class consulting detective (world's only). The mug shelf was empty and one glance in the sink showed John that they were all currently lying unwashed in the sink. He had refused to wash them up, yelling at Sherlock that Mrs Hudson wasn't their landlady and he DOCTOR John Watson wasn't Sherlock's servant. And that he would leave the dishes there until Sherlock saw fit to wash them. That had been four days ago and now there were more dishes balancing precariously in the sink.

John turned and looked at his flatmate "not happening Sherlock" he sat back down and opened the newspaper, studiously ignoring Sherlock.

"John, please will you make me a cup of tea?" Sherlock put on his most wounded voice.

"No" John refused to play up to Sherlock's moments of petulance.

"Why?" Sherlock sounded surprised "I asked you with more than my usual politeness. And yet you still refuse. Why?"

"Not working Sherlock. Not Happening" John continued to hide his smirk behind the newspaper. The next thing he knew was the paper being roughly pushed aside.

"Why. Won't. You. Make. Tea"

"Fine, Mr "I have the biggest brain in the Universe" What did I say on Saturday?" John looked at Sherlock's blank expression with growing annoyance. "The kitchen, Sherlock?"

"What about the kitchen?" Sherlock glanced towards it "It's still there, John, including a kettle and if I'm not mistaken there are tea bags in the cupboard since you went shopping on Wednesday and stocked up." He stood, his height dominating the seated John.

"Using your height won't work Sherlock. I am not making the tea. And unless you want to use one of your chemical beakers to make you own tea, I suggest you do as I asked on Saturday and wash the bloody dishes." John folded his arms and refused to look up at Sherlock.

"I don't to dishes" Sherlock spat out the last word.

"And I'm not doing them again. I am not your skivvy Sherlock, I am your flatmate. Although on occasions I also feel like your bloody keeper. But I am not doing them, so if you want a cup of tea, Sherlock you'll have to get your hands wet."

Sherlock sat down opposite John and steepled his fingers under his chin. John realised he was giving as much thought to the troublesome dishes in the sink as he would to a crime scene. After a few moments he spoke.

"I suppose asking Mrs Hudson for assistance would be not good?"

"No Sherlock, not good...do the bloody dishes yourself you bloody diva." He stood up and reached for his jacket.

"John, I am not a diva..." the rest of his response was masked by John's reply mutter sotto voce...yes you bloody well are...as he left the flat.

John closed the door of 221b and decided that Sherlock would certainly not be washing the dishes anytime soon and would probably be wandering lonely as a cloud through his mind palace and wouldn't miss him at all until he realised that he still hadn't had a cup of tea. Which John realised could be as soon as the next five minutes or as late as tomorrow afternoon.

As he turned and walked back towards Gloucester Place, he grinned. Living with Sherlock despite his thoroughly annoying demeanour, was never boring. Even if the great man got things wrong occasionally. A thought from earlier suddenly struck him...what if one day that 1% would be critical. Shit, now I have that to worry about too. John decided that he was greatly in need of a coffee and someone sane and an inhabitant of planet earth to talk to. Molly...

He pulled out his phone, hoping to catch Molly.

R U FREE FOR COFFEE? JW

He waited, hoping for a quick reply, he wasn't disappointed.

NOW? MH

IF POSSIBLE, YES... JW

ON MY WAY, MEET ME AT THE CAFE ON THE CORNER. MH

THANKS JW.