SPOILERS FOR SERIES 3!

Molly Hooper looked out of her flat's window. It was raining and the sky was grey and violent. It almost seemed that the weather outside reflected the turmoil going on inside her mind. It was fine to avoid the topic for a while, but now that he was back in her life… feelings and memories were rushing back.

She looked down at the ring on her finger; she had been turning it over and over for the past hour—while her thoughts raced ungracefully through her mind. He was the one person in her life that made her feel every emotion on the planet, and he was also the one person that she couldn't get out of her mind.

She startled when the front door to her flat opened and her fiancé Tom walked through. He smiled at her while shaking the water from his hair and removing his coat.

"Hi beautiful, how long have you been home?"

Molly flinched slightly at his words; she didn't want him to know that she had left work early in an attempt to make some space between her…and Sherlock.

"Just a few minutes actually, sorry I didn't call when I l left," she smiled, but knew it didn't reach her eyes. Honestly, she was hoping Tom would go to his flat tonight and give her some time alone. She didn't want to deal with the nagging part that kept telling her Tom wasn't who she wanted.

She felt her phone buzz and reached into her pocket to grab it, almost laughing when she saw it was exactly the person she was trying to avoid for the time being.

"Aren't you going to answer that?"

Molly tucked her phone back into her pocket after silencing it, "Sherlock knows I'm home for the day, whatever it is… I'm sure he can wait until tomorrow."

Several hours passed, and after making a quick meal of soup and sandwiches, Tom seemed to take the hint that Molly wasn't in the mood for company. He gave her a quick kiss and made his way out, hoping that she would be in a better mood tomorrow.

After dressing in a comfy pink sweater and pajama bottoms, Molly curled into bed with her cat Toby, sighing happily as she finally settled under her comforter and grabbed one of her tattered books.

"Honestly, I don't call if it isn't for something important."

Molly shrieked and threw her book at the bedroom door, the reaction caused Toby to flee in panic, and for the man standing in the frame of her bedroom to turn around and stare at the object that had come close to knocking him in the face.

"A book? Who throws a book?"

"People tend to throw whatever they have when they are scared out of their wits! SHERLOCK, HOW DID YOU GET IN MY HOUSE?"

Sherlock's face seemed puzzled for a moment as he dug in his pocket. He produced a small gold key. "You gave this to me after the fall, I'm sure you remember me staying with you for a while."

Molly waited a moment for her heart rate to calm down. Of course she remembered when he stayed! However, it seemed she never did get the key from him, even though she had a permanent reminder set up on her smart phone.

"Well yes, but that doesn't mean you can stroll in at all hours of the night, you should call first!"

"I did call."

"That was hours ago!"

"You should have answered then."

Molly flattened herself on the bed and threw the covers over her head. He was so frustrating! All she needed was a night wrapped in the comfort of her favorite book… not one where she was scared out of her mind, and confronted by the very man who was causing vivid daydreams to race unceremoniously though her mind.

She felt the bed sink as Sherlock settled on the opposite side of her.

"Molly, I just realized that I may have given you quite the fright".

He was greeted by a "humph" from under the blanket, which encouraged him to continue.

"I do apologize for scaring you and Toby for the matter… I didn't realize cats could shriek that loudly."

He poked at the lump under the covers, hoping to rouse her.

After a few moments, she threw back the covers, causing her hair to fly wildly in all directions.

"Now, what was it that you needed, and couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

Sherlock smiled and produced a small notepad from his pocket.

"I need funny stories about John, the wedding will be here soon... and I feel the only stories that I think are funny, will scare the crowd."

He stopped and looked at her blank expression, "Judging from your body language, you want to throw another book at me."

Before she could answer he spoke again, "Honestly, I figured I would have a better reaction from you than the one I received from Lestrade."

"What…? You know, never mind, I'm not in the mood." She rustled her hair some, causing it to fall back over her shoulders. "Sherlock, all I need is a night alone, to curl up with my frightened cat, and escape the world for a few hours."

"Why? Because you doubt you're…" he stopped mid-sentence when he noticed her face turn a ghastly shade of white.

"Honestly, Molly I just need you for a few hours, and then I'll be out of your hair".

"Let me put on a spot of tea, but just this once! I won't take to you coming over at any time of the day."

She felt the bed lift up, and finally was able to catch her breath. She often questioned why she allowed him to get away with so much, but at the same time it was something she wasn't ready to answer.

After several hours of funny stories, she felt herself dozing. What time was it? 1, 2 in the morning? She needed sleep, and Sherlock seemed to want none of that.

It couldn't have been more than 10 minutes before she realized she wasn't on the living room couch anymore. She was eye level with her bookshelf, and her lamp, and realized she was cocooned inside a strong pair of arms.

She must have fallen asleep, and now he was carrying her to bed.

She tried to look up, but the fatigue wouldn't allow for it. She closed her eyes once more and inhaled his strange scent.

It was a mixture of tobacco, cleaning products (which she assumed where from Mrs. Hudson) and peppermint. She also took into account that he was a lot stronger than he put on. She weighed a good 120 pounds, and he was carrying her at ease.

She felt him stop and bend down slightly, and suddenly she was surrounded by her sheets and the comforter. She opened her eyes slightly and watched as he turned off her bedside lamp. He then turned for the door, but was stopped by her voice.

"Sherlock?"

He turned slightly, watching her from the corner of his eye.

"Thank you."