Sherlock Holmes, world's only consulting detective, had the feeling that he was slowly losing control of certain portions of his well ordered life. It wasn't that he was spiralling out of control, a feeling he would have sometimes during the years of his drug abusing past. No, this was far more subtle, and not entirely unpleasant. Sherlock's mind would drift at times, and not at all in a previously approved manner.

He was, if not happy with his life, at least content. He had friends, which he had never thought he wanted or needed. He had a career which kept him motivated and intrigued. The only thing he seemed to lack was an appropriate outlet for his baser drives. Sherlock had come to believe that to deny oneself certain experiences was detrimental to one physical, mental, and emotional well-being. Irene Adler would have provided him with with such an outlet, in fact, she had offered to do so on many occasions. But his tastes did not run to her speciality, and the cost to his psyche may have been too high. He needed someone who he know, who he could be attracted to. Someone who would take what he offered and expect the bare minimum in return. Someone who had proved that she understood him, and would, and could, provide everything he needed, with virtually no questions asked. He needed Molly Hooper.

Molly was not surprised when she received the following text just before quitting time.

I NEED YOUR SERVICES. PLEASE COME TO BAKER ST - SHERLOCK

It was just like the detective to make such a demand, providing no details.

DO YOU REQUIRE ANY BODY PARTS FOR EXPERIMENTATION? - MOLLY

ONLY YOUR OWN. COME ASAP - SHERLOCK

Molly's first thought was that the final text sounded promising, but she soon dismissed the rather erotic possibilities which came to mind. She had been enamored with Sherlock for almost seven years now, but had long since given up on the possibility of it being requited. Molly considered herself permanently ensconced in the friend zone, and was quite content. Physically, Sherlock Holmes was possibly the most attractive man she had ever seen, but, personality wise, he left much to be desired. Still, she was curious about his request that he visit tonight, and regretted that it would be some time before she could make it there, having been tied up performing a rather complicated autopsy on a set of Siamese twins.

Sherlock sat thinking about the evening ahead of him. He had no doubt that Molly, kind, sweet, long-infatuated Molly, would agree to the planned encounter. But it had occurred to him that the venue for said encounter may be inconvenient. How could he make a clean break in the morning from his own flat? Much easier to reschedule at her place, where he could slip out easily!

COULD WE MEET AT YOUR FLAT INSTEAD? - SHERLOCK

TOO LATE. ALREADY ON MY WAY - MOLLY

When Molly arrived, she opened the front door without knocking, and proceeded up the stairs to Sherlock's flat. She opened the door to find the detective pacing nervously around his sitting room, seeming to talk to himself. This was not "mind palace" behavior, this was pure emotional discomfort. It looked like it was going to be a long night!

Sherlock had barely registered her arrival, and when he did look at her, his discomfort level rose dramatically. The whole scenario he had created in his mind had seemed so uncomplicated, until he actually saw her. His Molly, standing in the doorway with a look of concern on her face.

"Sherlock?"

"Ah, Molly, glad you could come. Have you eaten?"

"Yes, I grabbed something in the hospital cafe…"

"I suppose you are curious about my text." Sherlock rushed the dialog, words tumbling quickly from his mouth as if he was afraid that if he didn't release them now they would be forever trapped. "Molly, ah, we have known each other for years, now. I consider that we are friends, good friends…"

"And…" Molly gently urged him to continue, as he seemed to have run out of steam.

"Molly, I have come to realize that I have neglected certain aspects of a normal adult human life. I have denied myself certain experiences for quite some time, and I have come to believe this is not entirely appropriate, or beneficial…"

"Speak English, Sherlock!"

"Have you ever heard of the phrase, 'friends with benefits', Molly?"

Molly stood silently for a moment or two, looking at the detective, who either would not or could not meet her eyes. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting, Sherlock?"

"What the hell do you think I'm suggesting by benefits, Molly? Certainly not early retirement and a good pension plan!"

Molly was now laughing out loud, "That is certainly not what I expected to be on the agenda tonight!"

"And I certainly did not expect to be laughed at!"

"Well, still, it is rather unexpected…"

"What is the problem, really. We are both relatively young…"

"Thanks for the 'relatively' there, mate!"

"Both healthy. You are between relationships, as am I…"

"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt on your 'between relationships' status, Sherlock.!"

"You know me, quite well I believe. You know that I am not now, nor will I ever be, boyfriend material. I hate the term. However, we both know that, in the past, at least, you have found me attractive. I find you attractive. It would be to our mutual advantage…"

"Shut up, Sherlock. You had me at 'friends with benefits'..."

"You wouldn't expect anything more?"

"I gave up on the 'more' part ages ago, Sherlock. Now, I'm settling for what I can get. I know you won't hurt me deliberately. I'm going into this with my eyes wide open. Just as long as you do the same. Okay?"

Before Sherlock could even reply, Molly had closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around his neck, and kissing him passionately. He was more than surprised at how much he enjoyed the feel of her lips on his, and her hands tangling in his curls. "Bedroom?" he murmurred. "Bedroom," she replied. And the progressed from the friends part of the evening to the benefits part.

When Sherlock awoke in his bed the following morning the sun was already streaming in through his window, indicating that it was much later than he thought. He had experienced a surprisingly good night's sleep, the first in many days. He actually smiled when he thought what had preceded that sleep. Molly. A revelation. Why had he been denying himself this feeling for so long? How could this be anything but good? He almost grinned as he rolled over to reach for his pathologist, only to discover that he was alone.

"Molly?" he called. No answer. She wasn't in the bathroom. Or the kitchen. Or the sitting room. Molly had fled! Granted, this was what he had intended to do, but he certainly hadn't expected it of Molly! He reached for his phone to text.

WHERE ARE YOU ? - SHERLOCK

AT HOME GETTING READY FOR WORK - MOLLY

YOU COULD HAVE STAYED AND LEFT FROM HERE - SHERLOCK

THAT'S OK - MOLLY

DIDN'T YOU ENJOY YOURSELF? - SHERLOCK

EVERYTHING WAS FINE. TALK TO YOU LATER. - MOLLY

"Fine! Everything was fine!" Sherlock practically bellowed. "It was considerably more than 'fine'!" Then he started to think. Maybe it wasn't? Maybe he was too much out of practice? Molly had seemed quite, uh, satisfied the previous night, but perhaps he was just projecting his own feelings onto her. This was, perhaps, the one area in which he entertained some insecurities, and these insecurities were growing at an enormous pace. Perhaps he should talk to someone with vastly more experience, even if Sherlock believed that a goodly portion of it was either imagined or of a solitary nature.

MOLLY AND I HAD SEX LAST NIGHT - SHERLOCK

IS THAT CODE FOR SOMETHING? - JOHN

YES. IT'S CODE FOR 'MOLLY AND I HAD SEX LAST NIGHT!' - SHERLOCK

I'M ON MY WAY - JOHN

John Watson was Sherlock Holmes' best friend, and as such, he thought he knew everything there was to know about the detective. Obviously he was wrong. John knew that Molly Hooper had been infatuated with Sherlock for as long as he had known her. And him. Both of them. And, while he did encourage Sherlock, on occasion, to indulge in more normal and healthy human activities, he certainly had come to believe that his friend would never take his advice seriously. He knew that Sherlock had no interest in pursuing a relationship with anybody, certainly not Molly Hooper. He liked Molly, he admired Molly, and certainly would not risk hurting her. Why had his attitude suddenly changed?

The conversation did not start well. "Sherlock, if you felt the need for such activity, why the bloody hell didn't you choose some fangirl? Surely, you've had enough offers. Just pretend you're in a rock band, and they're groupies!"

"Some barely post-pubescent sex-crazed female, or male, who wants me to wear an ear-hat during the act? No thanks, John. Not my type."

"Since when has Molly Hooper been your type? Bloody hell, Sherlock, you know how she feels about you! This could break her heart!"

"I doubt that, John, as she seemed to be in a great hurry to be rid of me!"

"Come again, mate?"

"She left me in a state of post-coital solitude this morning."

"English, Sherlock!"

"She did a bunk! Left me to wake up alone, and very, uh, anxious, shall we say."

"Have you spoken to her since?"

"We've texted. I inquired as to her level of satisfaction with the previous evening's activities. She said everything was 'fine'!"

"'Fine'?"

"Exactly! Fine! Not earth-moving! Not life altering! Just 'fine'!"

"Well, perhaps you should consider yourself lucky. After all, you did run the risk of her forming an unwanted attachment, given her past infatuation…"

"Don't be ridiculous, John. We discussed the situation at great detail. I informed her that I was not 'boyfriend' material, and that she should never consider me as such."

"Then what's the problem, mate? Sounds like you both got what you want. Bit of a shag, no strings attached."

"I suppose, but…"

"Ah, your delicate ego has been injured! Well, chum, what do you expect? If you don't use it, you lose it, as they say. You've hardly practiced much…"

"I've done my research, John. And I would assess my performance as considerably better than 'fine'!"

John was really enjoying his friend's discomfort, and could barely contain his smile, "Perhaps she would consider a rematch, Sherlock. But before you do anything foolish, maybe you should also consider how you really feel about Molly Hooper…"

"She's a friend, John. Nothing more…"

"Then why are you so concerned about her reaction to your night together. My advice is to let it go and find another outlet…"

"I don't want another 'outlet', as you call it, John. I want Molly…" Sherlock was regretting saying the words even as they poured, unstoppably, from his mouth.

"Ah, maybe you don't consider yourself 'boyfriend' material, but it sure as hell is beginning to seem that you consider Molly 'girlfriend' material!"

Sherlock muttered and spluttered, and threw himself into a fetal position on his couch, as John turned to leave. Wait until Mary hears about this, John chuckled to himself as he hurried down the stairs.

That afternoon, Sherlock once again texted his pathologist.

MAY I COME OVER TONIGHT? - SHERLOCK

RAINCHECK? I'M REALLY EXHAUSTED - MOLLY

AH! DID I WEAR YOU OUT? - SHERLOCK

NOT REALLY. THREE AUTOPSIES AND A TON OF PAPERWORK DID - MOLLY

Understandable, he thought, the woman had a hard day at work. For some reason the thought of offering her a hard night in bed sent him in search of a cold shower!

The next day, Sherlock decided on a different approach, making her an offer in the same manner that The Woman used to try to seduce him.

DINNER? - SHERLOCK

NO THANK YOU. I'M NOT HUNGRY - MOLLY

Possibly true, but she could still possibly be avoiding him.

MAYBE YOU COULD COME OVER HERE? - SHERLOCK

I'M AFRAID NOT. MY CAT GETS VERY NERVOUS IF I LEAVE HIM ALONE - MOLLY

Sherlock had met the cat in question, and could not imagine the lethargic animal getting nervous even in the face of an attack of giant mutant mice riding atop vicious pit bulls. So, avoiding him, then.

Was she being deliberately obtuse? Could it be possible that she didn't want him any longer? Sherlock had never even entertained that possibility. He had considered the idea that she would grow too attached, but had never believed that she would try to avoid him. He retreated to his mind palace to analyze the situation.

But the trip to his mind palace was not helpful at all, for the Molly he found there had greatly altered. Her eyes sparkled more. Her smile, once sweet, was now seductive. He had now been privy to what lay under the labcoat, and he found that, in his mind, he couldn't unsee it. He had long admired the look of her hair as it hung down her back in her signature ponytail. Or flowed, loose and free, over her shoulders. But now he knew how that hair felt as he ran his fingers through it. or used it to pull her closer to him. And he had to admit, if only to himself, that he wanted her desperately. The experiment had backfired spectacularly!

The following day, Sherlock was trying to decide between a personal visit, a call, or a text. He would start with a text, move to a call if necessary, and follow up with a personal visit, he hoped. This was going to be tricky. He was trying to negotiate some sort of settlement which did not involve abject surrender, but was definitely not dealing from a position of strength. His ego had not yet recovered from Molly referring to their night together as simply "fine", while he would, quite subjectively, he thought, judge it more along the lines of "remarkable", leaning even more towards "unforgettable". The texting began.

WE NEED TO RETHINK THIS FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS IDEA - SHERLOCK

I AGREE. I SEE NO BENEFIT TO THE SITUATION - MOLLY

NEGOTIATE? - SHERLOCK

OFFER? - MOLLY

I WOULD ATTEMPT TO IMPROVE MY PERFORMANCE IF YOU WERE TO GIVE ME ANOTHER CHANCE - SHERLOCK

AGREED. IF YOU WOULD ATTEMPT TO PERFORM SOME FUNCTIONS OF A BOYFRIEND WITHOUT NECESSARILY USING THAT TITLE - MOLLY

UNACCEPTABLE. HOWEVER I WILL ATTEMPT TO FULFILL ANY AND ALL OBLIGATIONS OF ANOTHER POSITION, AND ASSUME THAT TITLE ASAP - SHERLOCK

WHAT TITLE DID YOU HAVE IN MIND? BOY TOY? OR, GIVEN YOUR AGE, DO YOU PREFER MAN CANDY? BOO? SUGAR DADDY? - MOLLY

HUSBAND - SHERLOCK

Sherlock waited several minutes for a response, but, receiving none, decided that now was the time for a phone call. He suspected Molly may have fainted, or gone into shock, either condition open to a positive or negative connotation.

"Sherlock?"

""Molly. Good, you haven't fainted then…"

Molly Hooper now started to cry, big heaping sobs. "Take a deep breath, Molly. I can't understand what you're saying."

"You insufferable git!" she managed to get out, and Sherlock was beginning to believe that this did not bode well for his chances.

"Calm down, love. Can I come over?"

"How long will it take you?"

"About three seconds, since I'm standing on the landing outside your flat."

As soon as he said this, the flat's door flew open and Molly threw herself into his arms, still sobbing the tiniest little bit. "I love you!"

"I should hope so, since you've just agree to be my wife." He pulled her even closer, backing her into her flat at the same time. "I promise I'll try to make you happy. We'll do better than 'fine', I'm sure!"

"Sherlock, I have to tell you something…"

"Let me deduce. You downgraded my performance in order to deflate my overweening ego, and engender in my psyche the need to demonstrate my superior performance, thus bringing about this inevitable conclusion."

"English, Sherlock."

"You tricked me." Sherlock snickered at the woman in his arms. "However, I must admit, that even in a performance as good as mine, there is always room for some improvement.

Certain variables always apply, and techniques must be adjusted to provide differential…"

"Again, Sherlock, English!"

"Practice makes perfect!" And with that, he hoisted her over his shoulder and headed down the short hallway to her room.