So as I think I've said I'm on holiday this week which means I have a bit more time for writing and editing so I thought I'd post a little more this week. And today has been extra good as I've been treated to homemade chocolate chip cookies curtesy of my oldest son. Yummy.

Chapter 5

It was a good job that Sherlock was engrossed in looking through the items about the dead girl because Molly felt almost faint after that kiss.

She had just about managed to thank the older woman for her generosity and tell her she'd let her know when they were finished and then she'd sat down on one of the little plastic chairs to catch her breath.

Sherlock had methodically gone through the items in the cabinet and then he had gently removed an old black notebook before sitting at a low desk and chair which was there for children to colour in pictures of some of the Roman coins on display. He was slowly leafing through the pages occasionally photographing one here and there.

She had to resist the urge to put her hand to her lips, knowing he'd see if she did and deduce what she was thinking about. But what else could she be thinking about! He had just kissed her. This had been no kiss on the cheek like normal but a kiss on the lips and in a couple of short seconds it had made her heart rate spike, her breathing quicken and she had felt dizzy and disorientated. No kiss had ever affected her so badly. But then no man had ever made her feel like Sherlock did.

She knew in her heart of hearts that he had just been playing the role of grateful husband to perfection but it didn't stop her traitorous body from wanting more. His lips had felt so soft and warm. It was as though she could still feel them there. She let her tongue pass over them hoping to taste him but she couldn't.

Pull yourself together Hooper...he's going to notice you sitting here gawping at him like a schoolgirl with a crush.

She took a deep breath and fixed a smile on her face before picking her chair up and bringing it closer to him. 'Hey, so how's it going? Any clues yet?'

Sherlock tilted the book so she could see it. 'Some interesting bits in here. It's the notes from the local Bobby. For a man of that time, barely educated, he was obviously methodical and bright. He had suspicions against two or three men in the area.'

'What about the fiancé? Does he give any more info on the alibi?'

'Yes, he was apparently visiting his aged aunt and uncle in a nearby village. They had no children and he would go over once a month for two or three days to do odd jobs for them. He had no transport so would have been travelling on foot. We can check the distances but he was seen in the local pub there at just after midnight and by the local baker's boy at six. That's aside from his aunt and uncle vouching that he was in the house all night. It does seem rock solid.'

He sat up and stretched his shoulders. The chair was ridiculously small for him and it made Molly chuckle.

He narrowed his eyes. 'Yes, very funny. How come I ended up on the minuscule chair and you get the normal one, that isn't right?'

'You got too engrossed in your case that's how. Have you seen everything you want to here?'

He nodded his head.

'Where to next then husband?' She bit her lip and smiled enjoying using that sobriquet for him even if it was just a joke.

She was relieved to see the flicker of a smile as he answered. 'The farm she lived at, we can walk from there to the pub she worked at. I'd like to see the route she would have taken. Come on wife.' He winked and stood, holding out his hand to pull her up from the chair.

Once again he surprised her by holding on to her hand as he led her back through to the entrance. They thanked the old lady profusely and then made their way back out into the sunshine where he finally let go of his hold on her. There were another two cars in the car park now but it was still fairly quiet.

He held his hand out for the car keys and Molly looked confused. 'You're not insured are you?'

'I had Mycroft add me to your insurance. You're too slow when you drive.'

'Um, I think you'll find it's called sticking to the speed limits.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes but left his hand out waiting. Molly huffed but passed him the keys.

He threw his phone over to her as he climbed into the seat. 'Put the next address into the sat nav, it's in my notes app.'

Molly duly did as he asked and was about to pass the phone back when she frowned. 'What's this?'

Sherlock glanced at her briefly as he started to guide the car out of the car park. 'What's what?'

'This "find my friend" app.'

'No, don't go into...'

'Sherlock Holmes, have you got a tracking device on me!?'

Sherlock closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath; this might not end well for him. 'Well...listen, I'll be honest. You know my line of work; you know how dangerous it can be. I mean look at last time with Moriarty. He threatened John, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson...I just want to be able to keep track of my friends should the worst ever happen.'

Molly was silent for a moment thinking through what he had said. She ought to feel bothered that he was keeping track of her...but it wasn't as though he were stalking her. He had the app to try to keep her safe, not just find her if he ever needed to...she paused as the reality sank in. 'Oh, that's how you knew where I was this weekend!'

His silence was her answer.

A few moments later he risked a quick glance at her, still concentrating on his driving as he asked, 'does it bother you?'

'I'm not sure. Yes and no. Yes because tracking someone is just wrong, an invasion of their privacy. But no because you've done it to try to keep us safe. I don't know...I'm flattered in a way that you care enough to include me with your other friends.

This made his forehead crease and he snatched another look at her. 'Of course I care Molly. I've always told you that I care, that you are the most important person to me. Why do you still not believe that?'

'I...I don't know. You just don't show it I suppose.'

She looked over and saw him scowling at the road ahead, wordlessly following the instructions of the sat nav. Finally they pulled up next to an old tumble down barn and Sherlock turned off the engine and twisted in his seat to face her.

'I'm sorry, again, if I've ever made you feel less than my friend. I trust you Molly...implicitly, and there are not many I would say that to. I...I love you Molly as a friend and...'

She smiled and put her hand on his arm stopping him mid flow. 'I love you too Sherlock. I'm sorry I doubted our friendship...but you need to tell the others about the tracking device; it's only right!' She added as he scowled. 'Come on...haven't we got a murder to solve?'

She climbed out of the car leaving Sherlock feeling a little dissatisfied. He had wanted to say more, to tell her that maybe his feelings were starting to become more than friendship but she'd cut him off and he hadn't found the right words. Slowly he extracted himself from the car and joined her where she was leaning on an old broken down fence looking at the sign that told them the area had been sold for redevelopment.

'Is this where she lived then?' She gestured towards the old farm house with its broken windows and weeds growing out of the roof tiles and gutters.

'Yes. The farm went into disrepair in the late sixties and hasn't been occupied since. The last of the family moved out around that time and I couldn't trace any relatives still living, that's not to say there aren't any though.'

Molly felt a little melancholic and sad as she looked at the farm imagining Bessie and her brothers and sisters feeding chickens and leading in the cows to be milked. All that hope and life and activity and now nothing just empty, ramshackle buildings and untended fields.

Sherlock spun around on his heel and pointed down the single track road away from the direction they'd arrived in. 'The pub she worked at is about a mile away and still open...so, do you fancy some lunch Molly Hooper?'

Molly grinned. 'You mean more than the bag of crisps that you normally bring me?'

He chuckled and held out his arm for her to loop hers through as they started to walk. 'I suppose so. You're as bad as John. He's always nagging me for food when we're away on cases; it's like it's the only thing on his mind...well not the only thing. He's normally stressing about when he can get back to Mary as well.'

Molly laughed at this insight into John and Sherlock's interactions. Sherlock sounded almost baffled by basic bodily needs and not for the first time she wondered how someone she considered a genius could be so blind and naive to human wants and desires.

It was a lovely walk past open fields and the odd house. They stopped for a moment at the wrought iron gates which signified the entrance to the local Manor House and Sherlock once again accessed the Internet to find out information. 'Hmm looks like this is 'Milton House' and was home to the Milton family who were the local bigwigs...can't find out much more than that though. Maybe we can pick up some info at the pub. It's not far now.'

Gradually the houses became more frequent and they found themselves walking down what could barely be called a high street but was obviously the heart of the little village. Many of the houses had thatched roofs and all were bursting with colour as flowers spilled over stone walls and filled the little gardens.

The centre consisted of a 15th century church and grave yard, a tiny village store and the pub which looked to be almost as old as the church.

Molly nudged Sherlock. 'Do you think she's buried in the church yard?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'Does it matter?'

'Yes it matters. I want to see if we can find her grave. I feel sorry for her...she died so young, hardly any life at all. Come on.'

She heard him groan but he followed her through the wooden gate and up the narrow path then they separated as they wandered through the rows of gravestones trying to find if she were there.

It took about ten minutes with lots of Smiths and Miltons found before Sherlock gave a shout and waved Molly over to a small overgrown grave underneath an old yew tree. Molly hurried over and stood by Sherlock as she read out the stone. He'd had to push down the grass at the base so it could all be seen.

'Elizabeth "Bessie" Smith 1871 - 1894

beloved daughter of Wilber and Elsie Smith.'

'This lovely bud, so young, so fair,

Called hence by early doom,

Just came to show how sweet a flower

In Paradise would bloom.'

Molly sniffed a little; feeling the weight of the young girl's death. Without realising what she was doing she leant against Sherlock, who was standing at her side, for comfort and it was only when he put his arm around her shoulder that she realised what she had done.

A moment later he let his arm fall away and together they walked out of the church yard and towards the pub, both dwelling on their own thoughts; Molly's on the young victim and Sherlock's on Molly.

Are we liking the way Sherlock's viewpoint is starting to change? I like to try to keep him as real as possible but I'm interested in your view as to whether I'm managing it here. I don't want him to become to OOC.