A/N: MY INTERNET DID NOT WORK LAST NIGHT! So have four chapters today :)

3. Carving Pumpkins

Sherlock was staring at the orange globe before him with distaste.

He did not like pumpkins. A little known fact that they were classified as a berry rather than a fruit or vegetable did not endear Sherlock to pumpkins. He didn't like the smell, the taste, or the insides. All he could remember was Hyacinth, his cousin smearing his head with pumpkin guts one Halloween and the thought still makes him gag a little.

Sadly his pathologist adored them and the holiday they were so closely associated with them and here he was in her kitchen facing four of the monsters.

"Do I have to gut them?" He frowns and catches Molly's smile.

"No Sherlock, you're free on that, I did them last night." He hears the jubilance in her tone and his frown deepens despite the relief in his heart.

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know your disgust for pumpkins." Molly smiles as she pulls knives out of her drawer. "You told me when you were very drunk in third year just how much you hated pumpkins. I don't imagine you remember that Halloween party." Molly's smile has morphed into a smirk and Sherlock glowers at her. He hates that she brings up on the blip in his usually perfect memory, damn university Sherlock. But it had introduced him to the little minx in front of him. The little minx who had other uses for that mouth of hers.

"Anyway." Sherlock said briskly, ignoring his semi and the smirk on her face.

"Yeah I bought four pumpkins, went a little Halloween mad, as always and decided you should carve one this year." She handed him a knife and set the largest pumpkin in front of him. Without another word she picked up her pencil and sketched onto her pumpkin. She studiously ignored Sherlock was glaring at his pumpkin, knife in hand as she began to cut her first design.

Twenty minutes later and Molly had finished two pumpkins while Sherlock had finally begun to cut his whopper of a pumpkin.

Another half an hour and Molly had finished with her three pumpkins as well as having tidied up her kitchen when she spared a glance for her grumpy detective. He was staring critically at his design then nicking at small parts of the pumpkin, eventually when it became clear to her that he was going to be a perfectionist and Molly picked up her wine and left it to him.

"Done!" His triumphant voice jolted her from her reverie, having switched off from Eastenders which was playing in the background.

"Sherlock it's taken you an hour!" Her eyes flitted to the clock and back to her beaming detective. He'd taken off his coat and even rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to finish his pumpkin. "Can I see it?" She picked up her empty wine glass and joined Sherlock in the kitchen.

"Let me see yours first?" He stood in front of his finished creation, blocking miniscule Molly from seeing it. Huffing out a breath she acquiesced to his words and swivelled her long finished trio of pumpkins. The largest of hers had a haunted house intricately carved out, the second had a ghost and the third was a grinning skull.

"Happy?" She tapped her fingers against the top of the ghost and raised one eyebrow.

"They're… very you." He examined each of the designs, each is cheerful and very seasonal. Much like those awful Christmas jumpers you bring out December 1st." He commented idly. He was snapped back when her hand connected with his arm.

"Hush you." Her eyes narrowed. "Let's see yours then." Sherlock stepped aside and Molly's jaw dropped.

"What do you think?" His smug tone told her everything she needed to know.

"It's a dragon." She gaped, stepping closer to the marvel in front of her.

"It's Smaug, from that film you bloody love." Sherlock explained, putting the utensils in the sink of long cold bubbly water. "Well I thought if you're going to force me to do a pumpkin I might as well make it something that reminds me of you." Sherlock shrugged watching Molly's reactions closely, he didn't always get these things right.

"Why does it remind me of you?" She whispered, tearing her faze from the intricate curled dragon to the imposing man next to it.

"You like it when I imitate Smaug's voice." Sherlock watched as Molly bit her lip and raised her eyebrows.

"That's very true." The blush stole across her cheeks and Sherlock decided they had spent enough time doing something Molly-ish, he wanted to do something Sherlock-ish.

"Maybe I should steal you away to my cave." His gravelly voice made Molly's face slacken and Sherlock grinned wickedly at her.

"Race you." She winked and flitted out of the kitchen towards the bedroom.

"Wench!" He roared in the voice, an accomplishment in itself, "You will not escape me that easily!" He gave chase.

Who knew pumpkins had their uses.