A/N: For the January 15th prompt - "It's Saturday afternoon. You're not at home." Rated T. This is basically a headcanon of mine.

It's Saturday afternoon. I should be cleaning out Toby's litterbox then cuddling on the sofa with Pride & Prejudice and Ben & Jerry's, but no, I'm trailing after the unrequited love of my life through an abandoned Tube tunnel. Thank God it's not a sewer. Oh God, is that a rat?

Molly let out a squeak much like the rat's. Sherlock immediately clasped his hand over her mouth.

"Quiet," he whispered in her ear. "If they hear us, we're dead. The rat won't hurt you – there hasn't been a confirmed case of bubonic plague in decades."

How comforting, Molly thought. When Sherlock let go of her mouth, she grabbed his hand and just held it tighter when he tried to take it back. Shrugging, he held her hand as they followed the tunnel.

As she walked next to Sherlock, Molly noticed he had shortened his stride to match hers. Why am I here? I'm literally slowing him down. Oh, right, John's busy with Rosie. Good to know my worth as a substitute John.

You're not substituting John or anyone else. I've told you that before. Sherlock's voice was crystal clear but she knew he didn't speak.

She stared at him. This can't be happening.

He looked back at her, raising an eyebrow. Why not?

You're reading my mind?!

Sherlock smirked. Yes, I'm a telepath, though not a strong one.

So, the whole, "I can hear you thinking from here" bit is real?

Yes, but most of the time, all I "hear" is a buzz, and that's only if someone's concentrating. I can't read a person's mind unless I touch them.

Molly's face paled. Oh God, so those times when you kissed my cheek...?

It has to be sustained contact, like this. He held up their joined hands.

Oh. Her face flushed as an image of the two of them making love and him knowing every little thing about her came to mind.

He smirked again, the look in his eyes absolutely sinful. As provocative as that image is, Molly, we do have a case to solve.

SHERLOCK!

He flashed her a brief, sexy grin but quickly grew serious again when they heard voices. Sherlock pulled a gun that looked suspiciously like John's out of his coat pocket with his free hand then looked at her. Stay well back, I don't want you getting hurt.

Then why am I he- Her thought was cut off by the feeling his lips on hers.

The kiss was passionate but brief, Sherlock pulling back to grin at her before she could really respond. When this is over, we'll talk about that idea you put in my head. He let go of her hand, breaking their connection, then mouthed, "Stay here," before running down the tunnel towards the voices.

After the criminals were captured, Sherlock took Molly back to Baker Street. She was full of questions so they sat together on the sofa with two cups of tea. Molly made sure she wasn't touching Sherlock at all and she could see he was a little hurt by that.

"I don't want you to distract me," she said gently. "There's a lot I want to know." She smiled at him softly. "We can touch after, okay?"

Sherlock reluctantly agreed. "Fine," he muttered. "What do you want to know?"

"Are you a mutant?"

He chuckled, relaxing. "You've been watching too many movies. No mutations in my DNA, they checked."

"Who's 'they?'"

"The scientists who studied me. Understandably, my telepathy alarmed my parents so they insisted on making sure I was 'alright.' The scientists were fascinated, but my parents made sure they always remembered I was a little boy first and a telepath second." He knew what she was going to ask next and beat her to it. "I was four."

"You must have been scared to death," she said gently.

He shrugged a bit. "The laboratory scared me much more than the telepathy. Honestly, I thought everyone could until I asked my parents about it."

"It doesn't run in your family?"

"No." He smiled a bit. "Mycroft has said more than once that he should've been the telepath, but I keep reminding him that it would require him to touch people, something he absolutely abhors."

She smiled back. "I thought you abhorred it too."

"To be honest, I do, most of the time. I can't control my telepathy when I'm touching someone – it's always 'on.' I can barely stand to hear most people speak, I certainly don't want to hear them think." He took her hand. You're different, Molly. I'm completely fascinated by you. I want to know everything about you. Maybe then I'll know how you can love someone like me.

She smiled at him softly. Let's go to the bedroom and I'll show you.

The smile he gave her made words, spoken or not, unnecessary.