Molly gets a date and Sherlock starts to remember.

Ridiculous. It was ridiculous. Molly glanced at Sherlock as he lapped up the milk she'd poured into his bowl.

There was absolutely no way that she had designs on her cat. That was just weird and bestiality was really disgusting. Maybe that harlequin romance book she'd been reading the past couple of days had influenced her dreams. Who knew? Of course, it still was strange how Sherlock's eyes looked like they belonged to the eyes of the man in her dream. Holmes.

That name was familiar to her, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Perhaps it was a name of one of the romantic heroines in her books that she'd read ages ago and it just popped into her dream for some reason.

But that was another thing. Her dream wasn't erotic by any means and there had been no kissing. Whoever Molly was supposed to be, that Dr. Mortimer Hooper, he and Holmes didn't like each other at all. But why didn't they like each other? Were they rivals or enemies?

There were far too many questions that needed answering and it would probably stay that way. Molly had the next week off from work and she decided that it'd be best for her to get out of her flat for a while. So, after leaving Sherlock plenty of water and Cheerios - he hadn't stopped looking at her with those beautiful eyes until she gave him some - she went to spend some time with her friends.

"You've got the hots for your cat? That's weird."

"Shut up, Meena. I do not have the hots for Sherlock."

Mary added, "Well, you talk about him enough and if he's really got such mesmerizing eyes like you said, maybe you should get him neutered so he can't use his charms on any other felines in the area."

"What?" Molly felt a strange buzzing in her ears. "No. Sherlock would never do that because he's not like a regular tomcat."

"So you've said."

"And I wasn't making it up! I don't let him leave the house unless he's with me anyway and he never runs off on his own."

"Never?"

"Never. He's completely trustworthy and I have no reason to neuter him." Molly took a sip of her tea and her friends knew it was better to leave it alone.

"Fine but maybe you need to spend some time away from him since you're almost always at home. You're off this week, right?"

" What could I possibly do? I don't have much of a social life."

"Go on a date! Me and Meena can set you up with someone!"

Meena's lips spread into a smile. "That's right! Between the two of us, we know tons of people and a lot of them work at the surgery or hospitals. So you probably won't have to worry about them having an issue with your being a pathologist..."

"No, no. Please. I'd rather go on a date with someone who doesn't work at a hospital. I can't remember how many dates I've been on with men who work at Bart's or another place. Just find me a guy who isn't disturbed by death, but not a psycho."

Mary and Meena looked at each other and began to go through their phones, looking for the perfect man. In a few minutes, Meena found a picture. "Okay, what about Tom? He's a writer for The London Times and he writes obituaries."

"The obits?" Molly pursed her lips.

"Yeah, but he's such a sweet guy and kind of like you in some ways. He's unsentimental about death, but he has a respect for it. I think you both would get along splendidly."

The more Molly looked at Tom's picture, the more she realised that he had a slight similiarity to the man called Holmes that she'd been dreaming about. With that in mind, she nodded. "Okay, call him."

Meena moved away from the table and rang Tom's cell. While she did that, Mary looked at Molly curiously. "You said yes rather quickly. Any particular reason why?" Her tone was cautious and Molly recognized that Mary was trying to read her.

Calmly, she replied, "No. He just has a nice face. That's all."

"Hm."

Mary did not believe her.

A few moments on her mobile and Meena returned to the table with good news. Tom would be willing to go out with Molly that very evening if she were free. Molly spoke to him briefly and they both agreed on a date for seven o'clock. The girls went shopping after lunch so Molly could get something new for her date. Then she made her way home.

When she unlocked the door to her flat and stepped inside, she saw Sherlock lying on the sofa sleeping. She didn't know it, but he was dreaming about the past.

In his dream, Sherlock was walking along the cobbled streets of London, destination unknown. It was the 1800s and clearly, a busy time of the day with the streets full of people, hansom cabs, carriages and the like.

Someone bumped into Sherlock's shoulder and he nearly fell down, but the detective used his quick reflexes to grab the man and pull him back up to a standing position. "Sorry about that."

"It's alright," the man replied a bit gruffly and when he fixed his jacket and their eyes met, Sherlock blinked in surprise.

The person he nearly bowled over was none other than-

"Hooper," he said, brow furrowing.

"Holmes," grumbled the other man, a curious shade of bright red on his cheeks. Strangely, though, he could not clearly see Hooper's eyes. They were blurred to him and the more he tried to focus, the further away he seemed.

Before Sherlock could say anything else, the dream fizzled out and he woke up. Dear God! Molly was Hooper! Dr. Mortimer Hooper! But it couldn't be possible. Sherlock knew Hooper and he was definitely a man. This made no sense. Had Molly's spirit somehow been reborn in a female's body in this century? Was he really entertaining such ludicrous thoughts?

Not so ludicrous, Sherlock. You are in a cat's body, remember?

The black cat rubbed his head against the soft cushion of the sofa. If he ever needed Janine to show up, it was now! His thoughts were interrupted by Molly, who was humming to herself. Curious, Sherlock jumped off the sofa and made his way to her room, noticing the packages on her bed. Odd. She'd purchased new clothes, but why?

He hopped on the mattress to take a look. There was fancy black lingerie, a slinky black dress with gold trim and a sweetheart neckline, a matching necklace, earrings and an arm bangle to go with her new outfit. A pang ran through him as he realised that she was going on a date and she also wanted to impress the man in question.

"Oh, you're finally awake, Sherlock!" Molly had just come out of her bathroom and was currently wrapped in a towel, water dripping down her skin.

Sherlock's heart gave a lurch at the sight. Molly looked so sexy in that towel. Damn this curse! If he were a man, he would take her in his arms and lavish her with passionate kisses, exploring every inch of her body until she begged for mercy. But he couldn't because he was still in a cat's body and Molly was starting to move on.

"What's wrong?" Molly came over to the bed and sat down, stroking his fur with her palm. "You look sad. Is it because I was gone for so long? Meena and Mary kept me out a bit longer than I expected. They set me up on a date and, well...I decided to get a few things. His name is Tom and he seems really nice. I hope he'll like me."

Sherlock closed his eyes, fighting the urge to howl in desperation.

Molly's voice sounded a bit shaky as she continued. "A girl has to live her life one way or another, Sherlock. I know you're probably not happy about it, but don't worry. I'll always have time for you." She was silent for a moment and glanced up at the clock on her bedroom wall. "Hey! You know what? My date isn't until seven, so why don't I get dressed and we can watch some crap telly together, hm?"

Sherlock meowed softly and Molly smiled, taking that to be his agreement. She rubbed her cat's head again and stood up, going to her wardrobe to find a change of comfortable clothes.

As she began looking for something to wear, Sherlock started to think. Whoever this Tom was, he couldn't just walk into Molly's life and take her away from him. Molly belonged to Sherlock alone and he would do whatever was necessary to keep her.