A/N: For the December 11th prompt - "Write about a late night phone call." Rated T.

After Sherrinford, Sherlock refused to call Molly with anything other than good news. He could and did text bad news to her on occasion, but when he spoke to her, he was determined to never hear her cry because of something he said again.

It was late at night, three months since that earth-shattering call, and Sherlock was stuck in The Middle of Nowhere, USA on a case. He missed his friends but he missed his girlfriend even more. He dialed Molly's number without checking the time.

She picked up on the third ring. "Sherlock?" she asked sleepily.

"Hello, sweetheart," Sherlock murmured, smiling to himself. He was leaning against the headboard of the hotel room bed, his legs stretched out in front of him, wearing only his black silk boxers.

"Sherlock, why are you calling at … 5:11 in the morning?"

He winced. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "I, erm, forgot you're six hours ahead of me."

Molly's amusement was clear in her tone. "Now you've deleted time zones?"

Sherlock chuckled softly. "Not quite. Ugh, I've been in the States too long, I'm craving fried chicken and waffles, and I don't even like waffles."

Molly giggled. "Just think, soon you'll be eating that horrid 'cheese' in a spray can."

"Bite your tongue, woman," Sherlock muttered. Too late, but she doesn't need to know that.

She laughed softly. "I love you. When do you think you'll be home?" It was the same question she asked every time he called.

"I don't know, but it can't be soon enough," he answered like he always did. A new resolve suddenly filled him. "A fortnight," he said firmly. "If I don't have this case wrapped up by then, to hell with it, I'm coming home. I was only doing this as a favor for Mycroft – Interpol can find the stolen Monet."

"Good." He could hear the smile in her voice, then she lowered it. "Sherlock, when you come back, I've been thinking that we should, um, take our intimacy to the next level." After the dramatic start to their romance, they had wanted to take things slow, never going beyond some very nice make out sessions on Sherlock's couch.

Sherlock simultaneously went into buffering mode and became hard as a rock. Consequently, it took him almost an entire minute to reply. "I … erm … I think that would be a good idea."

"Still want to wait a fortnight?" She was now grinning wickedly, he could hear it.

"I'm booking the next flight back to London as soon as we hang up."