Disclaimer: I wish I did, but unfortunately I don't own Sherlock … All credit to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle the original author and also to Mark Gatiss, Steve Moffat and others that take part in the fantastic BBC show.

Authors note: Well, the second chapter … Still have no idea where this is going, when I write this I haven't even started at the chapter. Should probably do that before the authors note, but who cares … Okay, move on, been re-watching (again) and when watching the third season I get more hope for a possible Molly/Sherlock thing in season 4. Can I please be right about that? He says things, watch her in an interesting way and well, their is a new chemistry going on with those two, I think … Have you guys also noticed this or am I just making it up in my own head?

What would I do without fanfiction, here I am the boss, and of course – Molly and Sherlock are going to get each other …

A sudden change

"Are you okay? And don't just say you are, because I know what that means, looking sad when you think no one can see you."

Sherlock Holmes realized something in this moment. He realized that Molly Hooper could see right thru him. When he was reading people, he based it on facts and imagination, he did it because he wanted to know things and well, show off that he could. Molly didn't want to know things for her sake, it was never about her, it was about him and she just wanted him to know that she was there for him. It wasn't the same as he did, it wasn't about showing off, it was about caring, and Molly Hooper cared for him. And in this moment he realized that he cared for her too. Of course he already knew that, but it was now much more clear than it had been before.

Of course he didn't told Molly any of this. It took quite a while before he decided what to do. He needed her. When he was ready to talk to her again he went to the hospital and found her.

"You were right. I'm not okay."

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Molly, I think I'm going to die."

"What do you need?"

"If I wasn't everything that you think I am, everything that I think I am. Would you still help me?"

"What do you need?"

Without hesitation she made it clear that she was there for him. Molly was there and she wanted to help, whatever it was about. Sherlock Holmes never saw Molly Hooper in the same way after that day.

. . .

"Sherlock!"

No, not now he thought before he slowly made his way up stairs. He really hoped it was something important because he had much more important stuff to deal with.

"What is it?"

Molly Hooper stood in her bedroom with a brain in her hands. A real human brain and Sherlock was the only one who could have something to do with it.

"Sherlock, you can't just leave body parts in my bathroom!"

Sherlock sighed, took a step forward and took the brain from her.

"I was doing an experiment!"

"In my bathroom, in my bloody bathtub? With a brain? What is wrong with you! Don't answer that part, that I know what's working with you, but the brain, the brain, seriously Sherlock!"

He really couldn't understand why this was such a problem? Molly dealt with body parts everyday, why was she mad about this.

"Well, I needed the bathtub …"

"Sherlock, why would you need a bathtub when you are doing an experiment with a human brain? This is stupid!"

"Well, in fact …"

"No, don't tell me. I don't even want to know why. Just take the brain."

Molly shook her head and left the room. Sherlock still couldn't figure out why she was upset. But, he didn't care, just took the brain and went inside the bathroom. His experiment wasn't done yet.

. . .

How many times hadn't she dreamed about living with Sherlock Holmes? Now she was, maybe not in the way she dreamed about, but he lived in her apartment, shared her bathroom, and bed … It had been like this for three whole days now, and she wasn't even near to getting used to these arrangements. Sherlock Holmes was a pain in the the ass to live with. She had no idea how John had been able to do it. Molly was getting crazy.

According to the newspapers on the breakfast table, Sherlock Holmes died three days ago. Molly pushed the newspaper aside and took a sip of her coffee. She thought about the first night, it was the day of the fake suicide.

Sherlock Holmes had showed up in her apartment around eight that evening. When she saw him she fell into tears, he stood in front of her with confusing playing over his face.

"Molly, why are you crying?"

Yes, why was she crying? He was standing in front of her alive, and she had knew all the time that the suicide was fake, she had been a part of it. But now she was crying anyway. She felt relief about the fact that he wasn't dead and even if she been aware of that, thoughts about him being actually dead had flowed thru her all afternoon.

"Oh Sherlock, I don't know why. I'm just so relieved that you are alive."

"Molly, you were well aware of that my suicide was fake."

"Yes, but I was the one doing the fake autopsy with you laying on my table. In that moment, it felt pretty real to me."

"But I wasn't dead. Just unconscious."

There were no point in explaining this too him. Molly felt a sudden feeling of brave and took a step forward and slipped her arms around his waist. He tensed, but then he relaxed and moved closer to her. His arms protectively around her and she felt safe, more safe than she ever felt before. Then he let go of her and turn around.

"I have stuff to do."

It felt cold when he let go of her, and she felt hurt. But Sherlock Holmes wasn't someone you hugged. She pushed the feeling aside. He wasn't that into her, which she already knew, she just needed to accept it.

Later that night when she was lying in bed she felt a movement in the room. Someone lifted the blanket and slipped in next to her. She turned and met two blue eyes gazing at her. Confusion and relief rushed thru her.

"The couch was uncomfortable," Sherlock simply said and then closed his eyes.

"Okay."

Molly fell asleep again and during the night, they both moved closer to each other. Soon Sherlocks arm was protectively wrapped around her waist and their bodys spooned together. We all do silly things in our sleep…

Molly took another sip of her coffee. It had been a weird couple of days. Every night Sherlock had slipped under her blanket, moved into her and wrapped his arms around her. They had slept like that every night, and every morning neither of them said anything about it. Molly didn't want to bring up the subject with fear of him rejecting her or saying something hurtful. She was just grateful for him wanting to be close to her.

Never beg a guy for his love … Her mothers voice whispered inside her head …

Don't ask me what kind of experiment you can do with a brain in a bathtub … Hope you enjoyed this chapter. There is more coming!