It was just past midnight when the key turned in the door.

Sherlock was seated at the kitchen table, peering at a slide through his microscope. He feigned indifference as he listened to Molly, who thought she was being oh so quiet, tiptoeing into the flat. He leaned back in his chair, carding his hands through his hair.

Unable to keep his jealousy to himself, he called out, "Isn't it a bit late to be stomping around loud enough to wake the dead and Mrs. Hudson?"

The footsteps ceased, and then started up again, no longer tiptoeing. In fact, they were dangerously close to the stomping he'd accused her of a moment ago.

Molly appeared in the entry to the kitchen, hands on her hips and fury on her face. "Last time I checked, you were not my parent. You're just my flat mate and you have no control over what I do or when I get home."

Sherlock flinched at her tirade but recovered quickly. 'Just a flat mate' my arse.

"Really, Molly? How long are you going to keep pretending that you have gotten over your feelings for me? Everyone knows that isn't true."

Molly shook her head emphatically. "I am! I'm with Daniel now and there's nothing you can do about it!"

Sherlock rose from his chair at that, and strode over to the pathologist, towering over her intimidatingly. Molly shrank a bit, but held her ground, her jaw set. He scowled at her and grabbed her upper arms, holding her tightly. Her eyes widened and her pupils dilated (from fear or arousal he didn't know for sure) as he observed her.

"Watch me."

With that, he bent down and pressed a searing kiss to her lips. She stiffened as their lips met but he didn't stop and suddenly she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her as they kissed.

Abruptly, she pulled back with furious tears in her eyes, and slapped him across the face.

"How dare you?!"

He turned slowly to look at her, one hand holding his cheek.

"Sherlock, stop acting like a child that has had his toy taken away! You're just jealous that I'm not pining over you anymore. You don't actually want me; you just want me to be miserable!" Molly all but screamed.

She turned on her heel and swept past him, sprinting up the stairs to her room and slamming the door. Sherlock listened to her leave, frozen in his spot in the kitchen.

There was no doubt in his mind that Molly still loved him but he couldn't understand why she refused to admit it. What is she so terrified of? She had reciprocated his kiss with the same passion that he had felt but then she pulled away.

Sherlock stomped into his room and threw himself on the bed, musing over the problem of his pathologist. How can I show her that I want her? Molly, why are you being so difficult? After coming to the conclusion that he was going to have to change his methods of wooing her, (because let's be honest, they just aren't working,) he finally fell into a fitful sleep, filled with dreams of reaching for Molly, only to grasp thin air.

The next morning, Sherlock was up early doing research on his laptop. He checked the time. Molly would sleep for a while yet; she doesn't work today or tomorrow.

He grabbed up his coat, pulling it on as he clattered down the stairs and rapped loudly on the downstairs flat.

After a moment, Mrs. Hudson opened the door and Sherlock brushed past her into her flat, his hands clasped behind his back. He focused on the woman, who looked positively bewildered, with a wide grin that said 'I need something and you are going to help me.'

"Ah, Mrs. Hudson. I trust you aren't busy? I need you to accompany me to the shops."

She stared at him in confusion and he rolled his eyes.

"I need to procure breakfast food items."

Mrs. Hudson's expression ranged from pure disbelief at his wanting to buy food, to sudden understanding. She positively beamed as she embraced Sherlock and scurried to put on her coat and scarf.

"Oh my, Sherlock! It's about time you made a move on that sweet girl! I'm surprised you haven't shagged her silly yet."

Sherlock feigned a shocked look.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. You know I was a dancer. I know what that look in your eyes means when you see her. You can't fool me, William Sherlock Scott Holmes."

He grimaced at the use of his full name but politely held the door for his landlady as they exited the flat to the shops.

They returned a short while later, his arms laden with groceries. They snuck into the upstairs flat and began preparing a lavish breakfast of eggs, bacon, scones and jam.

Or rather, Mrs. Hudson began preparing the food.

Sherlock set the table for two and made coffee, cooking not being one of his strong suits.

Not two minutes after Mrs. Hudson had disappeared back down to her flat, leaving Sherlock to himself; Molly appeared in the doorway, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Sherlock? What is this?"

He turned to face her, casually leaning against the counter, a cup of coffee in his hands.

"It's breakfast, Molly. What does it look like?" He smirked and filled a cup for her, adding just the amount of milk and sugar that he knew she liked, and held it out to her. Her eyes narrowed warily and he couldn't help a chuckle.

"Come on, Molly. I don't repeat myself and I already drugged John using coffee. Well actually, sugar."

She smiled and crossed over to him and took the cup, taking a grateful sip.

"So, what is all this for?" she waved vaguely in the direction of the table.

He cleared his throat nervously. "Well, I guess it's a bit of an apology for last night."

She elected not to speak, merely giving a curt nod as she sank down into one of the chairs. Sherlock sat across from her and they silently served themselves.

Sherlock watched as Molly ate silently, and picked at his plate. He looked up just in time to catch Molly's grin.

"What's so funny?"

She shook her head, try and failing to suppress her laugh.

"What Molly?" he inquired again.

"Did you wake Mrs. Hudson up just to fix breakfast?" she choked out, in the midst of her laughing fit.

He looked sheepishly down at his half full plate and moved the food around a bit.

"Maybe."

Molly laughed even harder at his confession and soon, he joined in. They sat there, grinning at each other like fools before Molly averted her gaze self-consciously and played with a piece of her hair.

"Well, umm, I better clear this." Sherlock stood and began putting the dishes in the sink.

He felt a hand on his arm and turned his head to look down at her.

"I'll wash, you dry?" Molly asked, biting her lip nervously.

He nodded; gulping down the feeling her hand on his body gave him. They worked in silence, Sherlock once again struck by how well they functioned together. In fact, he was sure he was better with her than by himself and he had never said that about anyone, even John.

They finished the dishes and Sherlock turned to Molly, tucking a stray bit of hair behind her ear. She blushed prettily and leaned into his touch a little before stepping away.

"So… yeah, well thanks Sherlock. And you too, Mrs. Hudson."

The older woman's head poked around the door, much to Sherlock's annoyance.

"Oh you're welcome dearie. It was his idea though."

Molly nodded and shyly smiled at Sherlock. "I know." She rubbed her hands together and shuffled nervously towards the other room. "Yes, well, I better get changed. I have some errands to run today." She left the room and Mrs. Hudson gave Sherlock a 'thumbs up' and winked before heading back downstairs.