Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or any of its characters. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle owns the literary masterpiece and the credit for the amazing BBC TV series goes to Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat.

Chapter 1: The Return

After a fairly normal day at Bart's, or as normal as the day of a Morgue Specialist could be, Molly Hooper finally winded up her work and signed off for the night. She hummed the tune of a song which had been stuck in her head since quite a while as she switched off the lights of her lab.

Still humming, she made her way through the eerily empty halls over to her assigned locker to collect her bag so she could head out. One might think that being surrounded by dead bodies all the time might have a bad effect on one's psych but Molly Hooper was used to it. The dead didn't scare her, neither did the dark. Unknowingly, it was one of her strongest points.

But today, for some reason, she felt uneasy. She glanced back over her shoulder before opening the door to her metal locker.

Silly me. She thought. There is no one here…

Her thought process came to a standstill as she opened the metal door and her eyes fell upon the mirror which was embedded inside the locker. She almost dropped her things as the reflection of a very familiar figure came into focus.

"Sherlock." She said breathily as she quickly turned around to face him.

"Hello, Molly. I see you have changed your hairstyle although the previous one suited you better. This one makes your face look a bit long." The corner of his lip pulled up into a small half smile. He looked the same as ever in his long black coat and impeccably tailored suit but at the same time, Molly sensed that something was wrong. Had he lost weight? And were those dark circles beneath his eyes?

"W-when did you get back?" Molly asked him, instantly berating herself for the slight stammer in her voice.

"About a day and few hours ago." He answered almost before she stopped speaking.

"So, you're here…now." She trailed off, not knowing what to say further.

"Brilliant deduction, Molly." Sherlock said as he took a step towards her, "I hope I am not spoiling your plans for tonight?"

"How did you know if I had any plans?" She blinked dumbly as she tucked a loose strand of her hair consciously behind her ear.

"You have freshly renewed your nail polish and there is a drastic change in your hairstyle. In your left pocket are two tickets for a… movie, I might deduce? So you clearly have plans with friends. You have started applying perfume as well, Chanel Number 5, if I am not wrong and your face has subtle hints of makeup so clearly, the person you are going out with is of romantic interest to you. Wasn't that hard to figure out." He winked as he completed his analysis and Molly let out a short, breathless laugh.

"Well, I have missed this." She shyly waved a hand in Sherlock's direction. "And yes, y-you're right, but it's nothing which I can't cancel-"

"Postpone." He said abruptly.

"Sorry?"

"You will not cancel your plans. You will postpone them." He nodded at Molly, who merely felt confused but went with it.

"Okay..." She replied meekly, her voice taking a higher pitch which it often did whenever she was nervous.

"So, I will need a space to stay for the night. Maximum two." He replied as he beckoned Molly to follow him out. "Would it be too much if I stay over at your place tonight? I can't quite risk going back to Baker Street at the moment and apparently John is so pissed off with me that he feels the need to engage in violence every time he glances at me…" Sherlock trailed off, bringing his slender fingered hand up to touch his nose. Molly noticed that it looked a bit swollen.

"It will be no problem!" She obliged a bit too quickly. If Sherlock noticed, which he most certainly did, he did not show it.

"Great. So, shall we?" He held the glass door open and Molly stepped through, mildly surprised. She still couldn't believe that after two long years, Sherlock had decided to pay her a visit at Bart's.

"Don't think too hard." Sherlock muttered under his breath.

"Huh?" She squeaked.

"Whenever you are thinking intently, you begin to frown." Sherlock stated it casually as he took a look at the over cast London sky. It was drizzling lightly. "Doesn't suit you."

"Right." She nodded as she followed Sherlock's gaze and subtly tried to re arrange her expression. "It's raining."

"You should get an award for stating the obvious all the time." And before Molly could form a coherent response, he stepped into the rain with the collar of his coat turned up against the wind. Molly had no choice but to follow him.

"I suppose we will have to get a taxi." Molly said as she tried to keep up with him. His long strides covered as much distance as two of Molly's scurrying ones and by the time they reached the end of the parking lot, Molly was totally soaked and out of breath.

"Shut up." He suddenly rounded up on Molly, his piercing blue grey eyes boring into her ordinary brown ones.

"But I didn't even say anything!" Molly replied indignantly, rubbing her arms with her hands to maintain some warmth.

"Your teeth are chattering and you're breathing too loudly. I am not able to think, I need to think!" He snapped at her. It had nearly stopped raining but the strong wind was not making things easier.

"Well its n-not my fault that it's raining-"

"Was."

"Well, was raining!"

"Here-" Before Molly could get another word out; Sherlock shrugged out of his black outer coat and draped it around Molly's shoulders. "Now, shut up." And with that, he turned around on his heel and hailed a taxi which, luckily for them, was passing by.

She stared at him dumbly as she clutched the coat around her against the strong winds. As she had gotten up this morning to bright sunshine streaming out of her windows, there were two things which she hadn't expected at all. One- The weather turning bad.

Two, Sherlock showing up out of the blue.

"Are you getting in or will you prefer to come in a different taxi?" Sherlock's annoyed voice broke through her thoughts.

"What? No, of course I am coming." She hastily moved towards the taxi, almost slipping twice in her short journey and breathed a sigh of relief when the welcoming warm blast of air streaming in through the taxi's heater hit her face.

"You're nervous. You are fidgeting around in your seat; you are clearly sweating even in a weather like this and your face is redder than usual, which I might deduce, is caused by my presence." The corner of Sherlock's mouth briefly turned up into a small smirk.

"No…i-it's just…" Molly trailed off while she desperately dabbed her forehead with her handkerchief. This isn't how it was supposed to go, she thought. She had been dreaming about Sherlock coming back to London for quite some time now and this was not how it was supposed to go. At all.

"So, why did you think I'd take a different taxi?" She asked him suddenly, totally intent on changing the topic.

"So that you would not be seen with me, obviously." Sherlock answered. He raised his eyebrows like it was the most obvious explanation available.

"And why would I want that?" Molly frowned but quickly straightened her expression lest Sherlock pass another comment on her appearance.

"Human mind works in a complex way. There are numerous reasons why you would not want to be seen with me-"

Molly noticed that the taxi driver was shooting them uneasy glances from the rearview mirror, clearly perplexed by Sherlock's way of speaking.

"I narrowed down to a list of twelve possibilities-"

"I'd just like to hear the most obvious one." Molly cut in quickly, for her sake as well as for the taxi driver's.

"As you wish." Sherlock nodded. "So, as I was saying, the most obvious one being that -"Sherlock took a deep breath "That I am not famous anymore. Not for the right reasons, anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Molly asked him, unable to control her frown this time.

"Think, Molly, think!" He suddenly burst out, his eyes glowing like silver embers. "I faked my own death with your help, escaped the most notorious criminal London has ever seen and "died" as a fake genius in everyone's eyes. I am sure I must have made it to every newspaper's front page for all the wrong reasons." He finished darkly. His expression looked like he had tasted a particularly bitter lemon.

"What? No! I mean…yes, that did happen but you have been cleared of all the false allegations, Sherlock." She finished her sentence in a whisper. "I thought you'd know that."

"I do know." He replied just as quietly.

"And," Molly began with boldness that she never knew existed within her, "I'd never think of you like that. I helped you fake your own death, for god's sake." She muttered.

"Thank you, Molly. That's a relief to hear." Sherlock nodded as he looked out of the window.

"Glad we cleared that out." She stated simply while the taxi came to a halt in front of her house. When Sherlock made no move to get out, she sighed and paid the taxi driver his fare. Sherlock stepped out, with a faraway look in his eyes.

"Oh, your coat-" Molly started removing it but Sherlock stepped ahead of her and waved his hand in a dismissive manner. He moved ahead of her and went to stand in front of her house, his hand out stretched towards her. "Keys."

"I…how exactly did you know which house was mine?" She asked him, perplexed, as she fished for keys in the pocket of her jeans.

"Pink flower pots on the windows and a cat shaped door knocker. Wasn't hard to figure out." He drawled as he impatiently beckoned to her for the keys.

"Right." She blushed as she handed him the keys. Within seconds, they were inside her house and she just awkwardly stood at the entrance while Sherlock inspected each and every surface like a hawk.

"Pink, pink PINK!" Sherlock bellowed as he thrust a baby pink cushion onto the floor, "How do you manage to live in this place?" He rounded up on her, his eyes wide and unbelieving. "This-this place is full of alarming and abhorrent shades of pink!"

"That's...a bit…"

"Even the carpet is part pink!"

"….offending."

Sherlock paused in his tracks and Molly was strongly reminded of a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

"Right, I...apologize for my uncharacteristically rude behavior." He cleared his throat "I tend to forget what I am doing without John pointing out the normal aspects of human life to me. So yeah…pink." He cracked a smile which looked as if it took a lot of effort to conjure. "Will do."

Molly bowed her head, unsure of what she should do or say. "So...er…"

"I'll need a room to stay." Sherlock removed his suit's jacket and Molly barely suppressed a gasp when she saw that inside he was wearing a tightly fitted waist coat over a starched white shirt. For some reason, the sight of Sherlock in well fitted waistcoat and shirt did weird things to her imagination.

"I have a spare bedroom for guests…I guess you can take that." Molly waved her hand in the general direction of the guest room which was adjacent to her own bedroom. Instead, Sherlock brushed past her and opened the door to her own bedroom. Molly followed him nervously as she quickly scanned the room over his shoulder for any signs of things which might...embarrass her in front of Sherlock.

Nope. No sign or stray bras or dirty socks. No tampon packet lying around, either. She heaved a sigh of relief but it was short lived.

"I'll take this room." Sherlock said as his eyes swept over each and every surface of the room.

"What?" Molly squeaked out in a high pitched voice.

"I like the view." He murmured, his lips barely moving as he parted the curtain slightly with his pale, long fingers and peeked out. His fingers…which Molly would love to feel in her hair while they ki-

Get a grip on yourself! She scolded herself mentally. You are engaged to Tom, for heaven's sake!

"So, do I have your consent to use your room for a day or two?" Sherlock cocked his eyebrow expectantly, waiting for an answer. As much as she tried, she couldn't quite grasp the fact that after two years…two years, she was standing in her house, in her bedroom with Sherlock Holmes. Her heart was pounding faster than usual in her chest and her movements were fidgety.

"Molly?" Sherlock slightly inclined his head to one side. It was almost too much for Molly, who was already feeling overwhelmed, to hear Sherlock say her name in his deep, velvet smooth baritone.

"Yes, you can do as you please." She mumbled as she hastily turned around and walked out of the room, intent on putting distance between herself and the world's only Consulting Detective.

Tea. I need tea. She decided as she dumped her bag on top of the sofa. After washing her hands thoroughly and pushing back the sleeves of her shirt, she set water to boil in a tea pot and leaned against the counter top as she tried to slow down her heart rate.

I'd never be able to survive these two days if I keep on acting like this…She thought. Only Sherlock had the power to make her feel like this. As usual, he was being rude and offensive but somehow, he also appeared charming at the same time. Those quirky little smiles and intense looks hadn't passed Molly's notice. She was well aware of the fact that Sherlock Holmes was a highly manipulative human being and held a …a power over people. However, this knowledge didn't hinder her from helping him out. Or rather, being manipulated into helping him out.

She was jostled out of her thoughts by the shrill whistle of the tea kettle. She quickly turned off the stove and poured the boiling water into a tea pot.

"Two sugars, black with a slice of lemon, thank you."

She almost dropped the boiling water on herself as she heard his voice just behind her. When she turned around, she found herself practically nose to nose with Sherlock.

"I-I didn't hear you come in." She managed to choke out as she stared into Sherlock's eyes. She swore to god, his eyes were unlike any she had ever seen. They were a unique shade of grey…almost silver with specs of metal grey and blue around the iris.

"They all say that." Sherlock responded as he reached around Molly's waist for something. Her breath caught up in her throat.

"What are you…?" She trailed off.

"Getting the sugar cubes, obviously." He responded. Molly noticed that there was barely any space between their bodies and Sherlock's nose was almost skimming her shoulder as he leaned over her to grab the damned sugar cubes.

Okay, this is perfectly normal. This is Sherlock, for God's sake! He probably doesn't even feel attracted to females, let alone you!

She exhaled loudly as Sherlock stepped away from her after retrieving the cubes. He added two to his tea and one to her own.

"You noticed." Molly replied, resisting the temptation to break into a huge smile. Her jaws hurt from the effort and she turned away from him, letting her hair cover most of her face.

"Of course I did. That's what I do, Molly. I notice things." He replied in a tone which suggested that he thought Molly's intelligence level to be as good as a kindergartener's.

"Right, yeah." Molly nodded as she added milk to her tea and took a sip, almost scalding her tongue.

"You have some questions." Sherlock replied without even looking at her. Molly noticed how he puckered up his lips to blow air into his steaming hot tea before taking a sip. The simple act created such a suggestive and inappropriate image in her mind that she almost choked onto her tea.

"I do. Why me?"

"Elaborate."

Molly took a deep breath "Why me…I mean, you could have stayed with John-"

"Fight."

"Oh, yes, right. Well, you could have gone to Mrs. Hudson…."

"I am planning to." He replied simply, not choosing to elaborate his statement.

"Okay..." Molly shrugged.

"You're still curious as to why I chose you." Sherlock set his tea cup down onto the kitchen counter and turned to face Molly. His curly black hair cascaded down his forehead and stopped just above his dark eyelashes. He pursed his lips once before he started speaking "I chose to come here because...I wanted to say thank you to you. For all your help."

Molly looked away at that point due to the intensity of Sherlock's gaze. He had the unflinching ability to stare at a person or a thing without blinking for a long stretch of time. It was highly unsettling but that wasn't the only reason why Molly looked away.

"My pleasure." She replied, keeping her eyes fixed on her shoes. What else was she supposed to say?

"Save it." Sherlock muttered. "I am not quite done with thanking you. And oh, did I mention that you will be temporarily providing as a replacement for my skull back at Baker Street?" And with that, Sherlock slipped out of the kitchen, leaving Molly speechless.

So, I hope you guys liked the chapter! There are a few more to come to wrap this mini-fic up nicely.

Feedback would be much appreciated.