A/N: I've got to run off to work. Hope you enjoy, do tell me if you do or do not. Always a pleasure!

The word fancy troubled him, one of those stupid words that John used frequently. Words that he'd hear employed in a certain range on television, spoken by blonde haired women who winked off-handily wanting him to bunch up his feet in the sofa snorting over the ridiculousness of it all. He didn't fancy her. No, that wasn't the word he would use.

He was fascinated.

It was for his benefit if she was chiefly interested in him, and him only. The world seemed in order if this was to happen, but he did not fancy her as John so indelicately put it. Yes, she took up a certain space in his mind, and he wanted to understand her, but that was because she'd just turned far more stimulating than he had pegged her. The interest though would falter the moment he got completely beneath the skin of Molly Hooper. Her brown eyes would lose their spark, her soft looking skin would lose their flush, and her pleasing mouth would be absolutely contrived and skint, as it once were. There was just one thought that crossed his mind – what if it didn't? What if it increased, strengthening her beauty, and weakening him? He needed a case - he shouldn't be pursuing a woman, even subjecting himself to the idea of flirting with her, as his own person? It was senseless, the sort of thing one could see happen regularly if one were to go out on a Saturday evening, and more or less due to the onslaught of shrill boredom he was put under. Everything grew much more interesting in those case-less periods, yet he'd barely managed to attend to his studies or do any of the oddities he'd do on a regular basis. No, he had been texting.

He stared at the flashing Nokia in his palm, making a face, throwing it hurriedly aside causing it to tumble onto the carpet. Be himself - was John's advice, as it had worked with him for years. Yes, at keeping her at a distance, and him being served dreadful coffee. He gave a laugh. Molly being a vixen, with her unexpected undergarments and nimble fingers – of course now the riding crop was upon his desk, as he was quick to retrieve what was rightfully his.

He found the idea of her surprised face when she discovered it was missing too entertaining, but depending on the dimples that exposed themselves when Ben appeared it was evident that she would not blink an eye over its being absent.

His phone rang, he raised a brow, before holding it disgruntled to his ear, "Hello James."

There was some hesitant breathing on the other end.

"Molly spent about an hour trying to explain that she'd accidentally snogged you – practically fuming over the fact that you'd been there, and then proceeded to go on a long rant about you being a complete bastard," said James who seemed to be laughing at the other end, "To be honest, it sounds like she fancies you, but that's my thoughts about it – I'm sure you've got better ideas. I suggest you tell her. I better go, Darren's getting antsy," with that James hung up on him, and a smug smile appeared on Sherlock's face. He hurriedly grabbed after the Nokia, raising a brow at it, as he read –

Sorry I went on like that. Hopefully I didn't scare you off - M

She had been lying in bed, trying to go to sleep, when during her half-awake state her phone had made the familiar buzzing sound on her nightstand. Her eyes opened wide, nerves on the edge, before she quickly grasped for the mobile phone grinning like an idiot -

I hope your coffee with Ben went well, despite my involvement. He took the news nicely? – SH

Molly blinked stupidly at the text, opening and shutting her mouth repeatedly, trying to decipher what little writing that was before her. She quickly recalled all of the texts she'd ever sent with Sherlock Holmes to begin with. They were a total of eight in fact, and she knew them all by heart, since she set quite store in them at the time. They would range from "Can you get me a severed head?" to "Give me some samples of Mr Wright's blood." He was texting to her about a specific thing, which was not about anyone dead. She did not know what to find more upsetting – this – or him being in the coffee shop by universal coincidence. This was worse by far; as this was something he chose to do for whatever stupid reason he had. What was he playing at? She narrowed her eyes at the phone.

What do you want? – M

I was just asking. It is common politeness? We have texted before Molly - SH

I wouldn't call requests texting exactly – M

She deleted that, pressing firmly into the screen of her phone, blowing hair away from her face -

It went absolutely fine. I am fine too. Everything's fine. Anymore questions? - M

None in particular – SH

She gave a tiny groan in her bed laying the phone aside, before hiding properly under her covers in disgrace.

Molly was staring at Mary and John who were eyeing each other playfully enjoying themselves to her irritation, as she was the third wheel. Here she was on a Sunday slowly trying to sip on red wine, while being quite jealous of her friend's relationship, which was conveniently placed in London and did not involve hysterical amounts of texts.

Mary soon settled down by the table with a bowl of salad, "He hasn't texted, then?" she asked her friend who's phone was currently fixed right besides her plate.

"No," Molly said with a frown scratching on her nose, as her phone blinked, and she gave it a sheepish look.

Mary looked at her in surprise, "What's that, then?"

"Just Sherlock," sighed Molly causing John to halt for a second, as he brought a basket filled with fresh rolls to the table.

"He's texting you – work - I suppose?" asked Mary curiously peering at the phone.

"No, not at all. It's odd actually – I met him in the coffee shop, just before Ben came, and then he proceeded to text me if it went OK," she said chin on her hands.

Mary just nodded slowly at this, while John cleared his throat seating himself, as she opened her mouth to ask more John said rather loudly, "Shouldn't we tuck in then, before the tomato soup gets cold?"

The three of them settled down, slowly eating, while Molly's phone kept blinking.

"He's persistent then?" asked Mary baffled by the constant blinking.

John chewed exceptionally slower at this, a small smile on his face, as he eyed the phone on the table.

"I've not been answering really," said Molly rather quietly dabbing a napkin on her mouth.

"What happened on Friday then – you never said – I was perhaps a bit out of it to make anything of it at the time," said Mary.

"Understatement - perhaps?" quipped John causing Mary to grimace at him.

"So – what happened?" Mary repeated.

Molly blushed at this putting the napkin aside, "This is going to sound very silly, and it is in fact very silly. Quite – actually - but he was – err – there-," said Molly her face a scarlet shade.

"Yes, that I got," said Mary grinning, "Sherlock in a gay bar of all places, it's very difficult to ignore him."

Molly snorted, "Well, I mistook him for Ben in a very dark hallway - mind you - and I – I - snogged him."

"Oh," said Mary wide-eyed. "Really?"

Molly nodded repeatedly as Mary took in the information, "I ran after that though, ended up with him showing up outside my flat - probably deduced that I'd managed to forget my keys, which I had – in my bag – though I struggled trying to find them," Molly awkwardly exclaimed.

John just kept quiet eyeing both women anxiously, concealing his apprehension of the topic by buttering his bread rather intently.

"John," drawled Mary.

"Yes?" he said dipping his bread into the homemade soup.

"How come you didn't tell me about this?" she wondered.

"It's not really a case is it? - I'm not going to blog about this," said John with a little chuckle, as Mary gave him a sharp look. "Anyway - I thought they'd sort it out between them. He's just trying to be nice, you know."

"Nice?" said the ladies in unison.

John read the doubt in their faces slowly taking soup into his mouth. The doorbell went off in the distance John stood up quite quickly, "I'll just get that," he said with a grin practically running towards the door. He gave a bit of a breath before opening it, expecting something entirely different than Sherlock who looked at him with a pleasant expression.

John's smile turned rather coarse after that, he hurriedly stepped out into the hallway closing the front door, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You said you were going to have dinner with Mary and Molly," said Sherlock.

"Yes, I am – I am having dinner with them. This invite didn't stretch out to you," said John trying to keep his voice low.

"Is someone else joining you then John?" asked Sherlock eyeing his friend curiously.

"No, Sherlock - no one else will, but I don't think they'll be so happy to see you right now," said John eyeing the door nervously.

"Why not?" said Sherlock looking if not rather murderous.

"She hasn't been answering your texts - isn't that a clue enough?" asked John pointedly.

Sherlock looked at him obviously perplexed by this, "She has been answering my texts," at which Sherlock brought up his own phone brandishing it in front of John's nose. John read some of it briefly, before -

"Wait – Sherlock – are you also texting her as Ben?" gaped John, when the door opened and Mary popped her head out "Who's – oh – oh – Sherlock – what are you doing here then– case?" she said walking properly out staring at the two men.

"No, there's no case," said John who was grinning all too brightly. "Just – he -," continued John not knowing what sort of excuse he could come with.

"John invited me," beamed Sherlock.

Mary looked at Sherlock uneasily and to John who just gave her a shrug, "You did? I suppose there's enough soup – if you want some – I know you prefer Asian, but-," she started.

"Sounds delightful," said Sherlock pushing her aside, and stepping inside the flat. Mary raised her brow at this action glaring at John who followed her rather guiltily back inside again.

"Why did you invite him?" she whispered into his ear.

"He seemed – err – lonely," apologised John causing Mary to blink at him stupidly.

The moment Sherlock entered the questionable kitchen at hand, taking in the various homey qualities which Mary Morstan's flat possessed from the unwashed dishes to the attempt of a miniature herb garden – he past through to the tiny dining room where Molly was texting somewhat swiftly, "Sorry – I just-," she mumbled turning around to face him with a half-smiling face, until her expression was exceptionally shocked.

It suited her, her brown eyes widened, the flush crept on her cheeks, and she just mouthed "Oh, right," before hiding her mobile phone away in her bag.

Sherlock just raised a brow tentatively gesturing to the vacant chair besides her, "You don't mind?" he enquired.

"No - not at all," she said her eyes cast downwards now, as she seemed to be thinking rather quickly.

He seated himself besides her imperiously, for it was odd, he had indeed been texting with her, as himself, but she seemed to have felt the need to lie. He could hear Mary and John bickering in the hallway, almost grinning at John's mangled attempts to try and make it plausible he'd asked him without really considering he'd show up.

Molly ate her soup in silence, furrow between her brows, her fingers gently caressing the spoon – she took to stop, "You're - staring – what is it?" she said all of a sudden.

He gave her an innocent look, before fetching himself a plate and glass in the kitchen.

Sherlock observed his phone on the table, his hands on the strings of his violin, as he was seated in his regular chair in the living room. He brought the bow roughly on the strings with his mouth pursed, as the phone remained quiet. This was maybe the end of it all, the end of Ben and certainly the end of texting. It was perhaps a much better thing to let it all quietly die out, than trying to proceed with it, as John had suggested. Ask her out on a coffee - it was an idiotic idea, yet he had showed up in the coffee shop, but that was not planned. He knew not if she would receive him instead of Ben. His hands itched to rediscover the Nokia. He could continue, never properly seeing her, and never letting her meet Ben again. What would that gain however?

He set his violin aside frowning at the idea that he was waiting for a reply – an answer that would determine the course of events. Pressing his palms together he waited knowing that it would likely end here, it was then his phone light up, and he brought it up with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Why did you go to a gay bar? You never said – M

A case. I don't frequent those kinds of places exactly – SH

How come John didn't join you on this one? - M

He did, but it was conveniently where Mary was. I don't need him on every case - SH

I suppose it went all right then? –M

Quite nicely, though there were some distractions -SH

Sorry about that really. I never thought you were who you were – M

My thoughts exactly, I'll try to avoid being in your way to avoid future embarrassment for your sake - SH

Thank you, that's really nice of you -M

I sense some anger -SH

Some? Well, thank you for being observant on my lack of keys too - M

I'm here to help -SH

Are you really? - M

I suppose you find this texting a bit surprising -SH

Yes, I do in fact. I suppose Ben's the reason you're texting me then? -M

You could say that - SH

Tell me then -M

Tell you what exactly? -SH

What's wrong with him Sherlock? -M

I'd rather take that in person - SH

Oh God. Is this a dumping conversation? -M

I'm sorry? -SH

Sherlock, it's obvious. Ben doesn't want to text with me, so he's gotten you to do it instead - M

I haven't actually spoken with him so I wouldn't know -SH

Oh. Sorry - M

No, need to apologise. I'm sorry if he doesn't reply you -SH

It's not your fault - M

It feels as such - SH

Thank you. I think? - M

Mary and John sat awkwardly at the table, for their heated conversation did indeed reach the ears of their guests.

"So – I suppose a toast is in order?" asked Mary clearing her throat.

Sherlock looked exasperated at this yet brought his glass up grudgingly, while John tried to hide his laugh. They all banged their glasses together; Sherlock deliberately clinked Molly's glass last, looking in her eyes with that straightforward blue gaze of his. She looked at him in general bafflement taking a much larger sip than needed.

"Right – tuck in," continued Mary who obviously was not inclined for a proper conversation this time around.

They all ate quietly with general nervous energy, all excepting Sherlock who was taking his time enjoying the soup and eating it in a manner that caused Mary to gape at him in wonder.

"Do you really eat like that?" she asked.

John laughed soon covering his mouth with a napkin.

"Manners," quipped Sherlock, as if it were reply enough.

"Right – sorry," she mumbled, directing her attention to Molly, before her brows knitted properly, and she looked in the direction of Sherlock in disbelief. "Err – you know what – Molly – I need some help with desert -,"

John half stood up from his chair, "I could hel-," he started, and Mary just waved her hand at him.

"Oh – no – I'm sure Molly would like to help me, wouldn't you?" asked Mary as Molly pointedly avoided her scrutiny, before standing reluctantly up from her seat. The two women went off to the kitchen much whispering happening between them.

"Mary's quicker than I suspected," said Sherlock with something seeming to be admiration, before his hand was soon in Molly's handbag.

"What are you doing?" whispered John.

Sherlock brought up Molly's phone proceeding to frown at it, before dropping it hurriedly inside the bag again.

"Sherlock – what's going on?"

"John, I have only been texting her from my own phone," said Sherlock in a low voice, which only confused his friend even more.

"Who's been texting her then?"

"Her ex it seems," said Sherlock with a sneer. "She finally replied when I came in - which is why your girlfriend is now speaking with her in the kitchen," he ended putting on a pleasant smile, when the two women reappeared.

"Dessert is fine then?" asked Sherlock attentively.

"Yes – yes – it's very good," said Mary seating herself again. Molly settled down besides Sherlock accidentally brushing against him, looking at him apologetically.

"I don't have an issue with physical contact," remarked Sherlock.

"You're not actually going to bring it up at dinner are you?" challenged Molly. There was a great deal of mirth in those brown eyes of hers.

"When should I? When Mary pops out the tub of ice cream as dessert?" asked Sherlock causing Mary to frown.

"How did you-," she started, until she just kept her mouth shut remembering what John had always told her.

"I saw the receipt on the kitchen counter. I didn't know you needed help with ice cream exactly," he remarked.

Molly snorted, "Right – then – yes - we snogged – fine? I told Mary before you came, and John probably knows from before."

"Yes," said John.

"So, are we good on the whole snogging thing now? Everyone knows, even Ben knows, which is why he's probably not texting," said Molly derisively dropping her spoon not feeling very hungry anymore.

"Ben lives in Cardiff though," said Mary causing Molly to look at her.

"Yes – yes – he does - thank you Mary for pointing that out, and he also hasn't cheated as far as my knowledge goes, so I'd think-," said Molly who took to empty the contents of her glass before continuing, "That he's a good man."

"On paper yes, a good man on paper," quipped Mary.

Molly threw daggers at her friend helping herself to the bottle of red wine on the table, before pouring more into her glass.

"I suggest water," said Sherlock causing Molly to blink at him.

"I'm very good at - oh – oh – right," she said confused, before taking to drink from the glass of water.

John interrupted her confusion, "How's work then Molly?"

Molly smiled, "It's fine, not much happening at the moment, but it's good really considering my less than – err - alive patients. Any exciting cases of late then? Your blog hasn't updated in a while."

"Not much happening really. Just Sherlock being Sherlock," said John with a laugh.

Sherlock raised a brow, "Yes, it is rather quiet these days."

"You're keeping yourself occupied then? I know how you can be," said Molly.

"How am I then?" asked Sherlock rather intently.

Molly stared at him for a moment, as he was observing her while quietly drinking of his red wine. She had never seen him drink in her life.

"I'm sure something will turn up," said John causing Molly to look at him.

"Yes, probably," she mused taking to eat her soup again.

"You're avoiding the question," said Sherlock.

Molly blanched, "Sorry? Avoiding the question. I'm not avoiding anything," she said.

"How am I then Molly?" asked Sherlock.

She gaped at him a little about to answer when John's mobile phone went off; he excused him from the table, and took it in the kitchen.

Molly pondered the question put to her, frowning albeit, as Mary looked at this with interest, "You're brilliant and difficult, which is the only way you could be I suppose, especially when you're bored."

"I wouldn't say I was bored," said Sherlock.

Molly was about to reply when John returned looking very serious, "It was Lestrade – we've got a case – Mary I-," started John.

"Just go," Mary said offhandedly taking to drink her wine, "There'll be more ice cream for us."

Sherlock stood up brusquely giving a sharp nod to the women, "Have a pleasant evening," he said causing both of them to look at him wonder, before he took off quickly followed by John who shouted he'd phone.

Mary heard the front door shut before she cheekily asked, "So – is he actually texting you then?"

"I – he's – well – yes, he is," said Molly drinking some wine, before bringing up her phone.

I'd say I was fascinated - SH