A/N: For the August 13th prompt - "And when autumn finally arrived." Rated T. Stand-alone. This is inspired by the trip my family and I take every fall to get apples.

"Tell me why we're doing this again," Sherlock grumbled as a very large eighteen-wheeler passed their hired car a little too close for Sherlock's comfort. I hate driving in the States. Everything's backwards and the other vehicles are always much too large.

"It's a chance to get out of the city and see the countryside," Molly said, smiling cheerfully in the front passenger seat.

Sherlock scoffed. "Omaha has half a million people, it barely qualifies as a city. Give me London and its 8 million, a good number of whom are either criminals or clients."

She playfully rolled her eyes then played with the radio stations until Bonnie Raitt's "Something To Talk About" started playing and she sang along.

Not that he would admit it to anyone even under pain of death, but Sherlock always thought it was absolutely adorable when Molly sang along to whatever song was playing. If she knew it, she sang, usually at the top of her lungs if it was just the two of them.

The two of them were in eastern Nebraska, "Land of Cows and Cornfields," Sherlock had declared it as soon as they had landed at the airport. They had just finished up with a case and the client (a university professor who was being blackmailed by a former student) invited them to stay another week. Sherlock had been itching to get back to "the real world" but Molly was charmed by the place and wanted to take the client up on his offer. After asking him for suggestions of things they could do while they were in the area, "apple picking" was Molly's first choice.

Now they were heading down what the GPS called an interstate but what Sherlock deemed to be just a back road. The professor said that the best apples were in the orchards in and around Nebraska City, about an hour south. Molly was quite taken by the passing landscape – cornfields (the plants dried up and ready for harvesting) occasionally broken up by creeks and tree-covered hills. The trees' leaves had turned to brown, orange, and yellow, with the rare blaze of red.

"Look at that sky, Sherlock," she said, her smile almost as wide as the open sky above them. It was a pristine blue dotted with fluffy white clouds. "We don't get skies like this in London."

"That's because London has actual skyscrapers," Sherlock muttered.

Molly giggled. "Now I know why you didn't want to come here alone – you need an audience for your deductions … and your griping."

Sherlock would've rolled his eyes but he didn't trust American drivers enough to take his eyes off the road for a split second. "Rosie's teething which meant Mary didn't want to leave her which meant John didn't want to leave them."

"I'm glad domesticity is working out for them," she said, smiling. "They're so happy."

"They are," Sherlock reluctantly agreed.

"I just hope I can find the same happiness someday." There was more than a hint of wistfulness in her tone.

"I'm not made for such a life," he said after a moment.

"What makes you think that?" she asked, curious.

"I'd get bored with a regular job, I'm sure I'd be bored with a regular relationship."

Molly smiled a bit. "Considering that you've never had one, how do you know?" She turned back to the road ahead. "I can't say that I miss Tom, but I do miss being in a relationship. Having someone to share your life with gives it more meaning."

Sherlock thought about that the rest of the way to the orchard. Molly tried to engage him in conversation a couple of times but eventually gave up.

An hour later, Sherlock was picking apples from one tree while Molly picked from another. He couldn't help paying more attention to her than what he was doing. She looks so beautiful with the sun on her face. Maybe I should ask her out. No, no, in that way lies madness. But I want to... I'll let her settle this – if the next thing she says or does is in any way romantic or sexual, I'll ask her out.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Molly had left her tree until she called his name. He looked up. "Yes?"

Molly tossed him an apple, which he caught easily. A bit of trivia flew out of his Mind Palace and smacked him upside the head. In Ancient Greece, throwing an apple at someone was saying that you loved them, and catching an apple thrown at you said that you accepted that love. By the hopeful look on Molly's face, Sherlock could tell she knew that custom.

He grinned at her then took one of his apples and tossed it at her. She caught it just as easily, her eyes wide.

Sherlock chuckled. "Now that that's out of the way, what do you say to us sharing a hotel room for the rest of the week?"

Molly grinned. "Only if you don't hog the covers."

He smirked. "Who says we'll be sleeping?"

How do you like them apples?