A/N :: I wasn't sure if I was going to keep the story going or make it a one-shot but I decided what the heck when in Rome! Events of this story loosely follow those of the 'Empty Hearse'.

Also, please excuse any grammatical errors. English was my 2nd least favorite subject…math was my first, in case you were wondering (which you probably weren't). And I attempt a bit of Sherlock humor in this chapter so I hope it amuses you cause it made me chuckle when I wrote it.

That being said Allons-y!

During his time tracking down and dismantling Moriarty's criminal network Sherlock had been haunted by dreams of the pathologist who had helped save his life. It was for this reason that he decided to invite Molly to work with him on a few cases.

As much as he missed John's company, the idea of spending the day with Molly gave him this weird sensation in his stomach that was also present whenever she was around.

Rhopalocera. Butterflies. Yes I believe the phrase is that I have butterflies in my stomach. No that's utterly ridiculous and highly unlikely. Considering the acidic conditions within the stomach it is certainly not an environment that is conducive to the survival of any type of arthropod. The more likely explanation for this feeling is gas…yes it must be gas.

Sherlock attempted to rationalize his feelings away while searching his mind palace for something else to think about. Ultimately it kept coming back to the room that held his memories from the day of the "Fall". More specifically he returned to when he, Molly and John Watson were in the lab, searching for clues about the whereabouts of the kidnapped children. It was then that Molly, stammering,-blushing-awkward Molly had managed to do what few others had ever done before, she surprised him.

Sherlock had always been good at reading people. It was as easy for him as breathing but he was not accustomed to was people reading him but his pathologist had done just that. She saw him; she noticed that despite what he said or did Sherlock was not okay. She deduced something about him that his best friend, arguable the one person outside of his family who knew him the best failed to see. The consulting detective had thought he had Molly Hooper all figured out and it turned out he had never been more wrong.

His day with Molly had been rather amusing up until the point where he noticed the ring.

Stupid. How could you have not seen it until now? Clearly I was too busy showing off and trying to make her smile, that bright beautiful smile that makes my heart race and my palms sweat. Damnit Sherlock, focus she's talking.

Sherlock tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Molly wrapping up her little rant about her fiancé and his relationship with his family. He started to feel this uncomfortable twisting in the pit of his stomach and struggled not to let his discomfort show. He placed a genuine smile on his face and said, "I hope you'll be very happy, Molly Hooper. You deserve it." When he leaned into kiss her on the cheek, he snapped a mental picture of the moment, committing every detail to memory including the way her breathing increased as he moved towards her, the blush that came to her cheeks as he leaned in and the light smell of vanilla on her skin that stayed with him for the rest of the day.

Sherlock sat at his table, attempting to concentrate on the specimen underneath his microscope but kept being interrupted by the sounds of laughter coming from downstairs. Mrs. Hudson was having her monthly game of bridge with her old friends from school. Normally, Sherlock was able to filter out the sound of the rowdy, gossipy old ladies but after the day he had his typically low level of patience was running on empty. He sighed exasperatedly as he stood up, grabbed his Belstaff and stormed noisily down the stairs. Mrs. Hudson hearing the raucous opened the door and stuck her head out in time to see Sherlock reaching for the front door.

"Oh Sherlock dear, where are you off to?" she asked.

"Contrary to popular belief Mrs. Hudson I am not a child and you are not my mother so I do not need to justify my comings and goings to you!" Sherlock spun on his heel, pulled the door open and slammed it shut behind him.

I'm going to pay for that tomorrow. I suspect I won't be getting my morning tea, lunch, or dinner. Upside she probably won't speak to me for the day so at least I can turn off the semi-mute filter I typically use when she is talking.

Sherlock smiled to himself as her hailed a cab and gave him the address to one of the places that he liked to go when he needed to think, the place that had quickly become his favorite; Molly Hooper's flat.

He arrived at her door 20 minutes later and fished the spare key she had given him 2 years earlier from his pocket. He entered the flat, took off his shoes and began making his way to the bedroom when he heard a noise coming from its partially shut door that made him pause. He began to approach the door cautiously curious to determine the origin of the sound. Sherlock gazed through the partly opened doorway and saw the shape of his sweet Molly Hooper writhing with her legs open on the bed. He stared at her in awe, completely transfixed by the groans of sheer pleasure that were escaping her perfect little mouth. As he watched her, he could feel himself becoming aroused and decided it would be a good time to leave.

Sherlock turned around to make his silent escape back the way he came when he hears it, his name. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to face the door, unsure of whether he had heard correctly when she says it again, louder this time, "Sherlock." Sherlock was completely stunned and unable to move as his name begins to tumble out of her mouth like a chant growing in volume with each repetition until finally she screams out for him.

By the time Sherlock regained control of his legs, Molly had fallen asleep with a peaceful and satisfied smile on her face. Sherlock uses all of his self-control not to wake her up and ask her to tell him exactly what she imagined him doing that made her scream like that. Instead he heads for the door, slips his shoes back on and heads quietly out the door.

Sherlock went over to Molly's for a quiet place to think and instead he returned to Baker Street with a memory that was going to keep him distracted all night.

Thank you to the people who have read it, are following it and have left comments. It is greatly appreciated! Please keep the feedback coming.