Author's Note: So this story just sort of happened... Please stick with it, and remember: things aren't always as they seem!

*Italics refer to a conversation over the phone

**I do not own Sherlock, but if I did I would be one happy girl! :)

Doctor John Watson was fuming. His lovely Sunday morning plans of laying in with his beautiful wife and daughter had been interrupted. Was it an emergency? No. Was it a case? Nope. So why was he traveling across town to Baker Street at this ungodly hour, you might ask… Two words: Sherlock Holmes.

The good doctor remembered the birth of his daughter quite vividly. He stood by Mary's side in that delivery room for all of the fourteen hours it took for Miss Charlotte Watson to arrive. He fed Mary ice chips, wiped her brow, and when the time came he cut the umbilical cord that tethered mother and child. Funny thing though, he didn't remember being present for the birth of the 36 year-old self-proclaimed sociopath who was put into his custody. Why did all the responsibility fall on him? Sure at one point he may have been his 'handler', but for God's sakes he had a wife and a child now! Not to mention, at 36 years of age, the man should be capable of taking care of himself!

Nevertheless, the concern of several people regarding Sherlock's behavior had caught John's attention. Because if Mike Stamford, Greg Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson all said something was wrong, then chances were that it was true. It wasn't that Sherlock never behaved strangely, because that was his default setting, it was his erratic moods that wreaked havoc on those around him. But lately, according to his reliable sources, those volatile mood swings seemed to be centered on one person in particular; everybody's favorite pathologist: Doctor Molly Hooper.

The first incident occurred two weeks ago. Saddled with the responsibilities of fatherhood, John wasn't always available to help out on cases. But somehow on this day the stars aligned, the case was a possible eight or higher, and Mary gave her consent, allowing him several hours of freedom to assist his best friend. While Sherlock and Molly discussed the deterioration of the victim's flesh (not John's area), he used the time to catch up with his friend Dr. Stamford. After getting all the formalities out of the way, (John being a new father, Mike considering an early-retirement), Mike asked a serious question. "Have you noticed that Sherlock seems a lot more aggravated lately?"

John chuckled. "Sherlock is always aggravated, how can you tell?" When Mike furrowed his brows, John began to understand the severity of the situation and stiffened. "What has Sherlock done now?"

Mike took off his glass to clean the lenses. "Well he'll be fine one minute, and irate the next. Now he's never behaved rudely with me, no more than usual that is. But it does seem that most of the time, Molly is at the receiving end of his wrath."

Oh this was serious indeed. Sherlock had a tendency of lashing out, however it was painful to think that Molly was his victim of choice. To this day he still felt incredibly guilty about that one Christmas party where Sherlock deduced her (incorrectly for that matter) and absolutely ripped her apart. John sighed before he asked, "What has he said to her?"

Notably becoming more and more uncomfortable, Mike asked him to come to his office so they could talk more freely. Once he shut the door, he began to pour out all of Sherlock's indiscretions.

"Three days ago I overheard him telling Molly that she should consider getting a tan. The insult being that the other pathologist might mistake her for a corpse and autopsy her instead. Another instance I heard him expressing his dislike of ponytails, the gist of the comment was that she resembled a horse. The worst one was a comment he made about her clothes," John sucked in air and balled his fists while Mike continued. "Yeah he asked her to put her lab coat back on, as her sweater was 'atrocious' and 'made him physically ill," he said adding air quotes to further make his point. "I had just walked in, but I heard enough! She ran past me covering her face and hid in the storage closet. I swear I heard whimpering too."

"I hate to bother you with this, but I wouldn't even know how to bring this up to him. So I was hoping that you would talk to him. These insults might not seem that bad, but Molly is so sweet and sensitive that this could easily break her. And as much as I appreciate Sherlock's work, I will not allow him to run off one of the best doctors I've had the pleasure of working with. If that means taking away his privileges here at Bart's, then so be it."

John silently nodded, "I completely agree with you. I don't know why he continues to pick on Molly, I mean everyone knows how she feels for him. But rest assure Mike, I will talk to him."

"Thanks John, can't tell you how much I appreciate it!" The two doctors shook hands and walked back to the morgue, where Sherlock and Molly's disgusting conversation was finally dying down. Before John could rejoin his friend he received a call from his wife, asking him to pick up some things they needed for Charlotte. Since Sherlock doesn't 'do shopping' and finds it 'boring,' John and the consulting detective went their separate ways. It was only when John tucked in Baby Charlotte later that night he remembered that he never did have that conversation with Sherlock.

The next incident occurred ten days after his discussion with Dr. Stamford. John had been sent home from the clinic due to a bad case of the stomach flu. He had asked that Mary take his phone and keep it away from the bedroom where he was laid up. The excuse he gave was that he didn't want to be disturbed, however the real reason was that he was worried Sherlock would use his magical methods, deduce he was home, and insist that he join him on a case. After a few hours of rest he regained a bit of his strength, and felt confident enough to walk in to the kitchen. There on the counter he saw his mobile notifying him of three missed calls and several unanswered text messages; all of which came from Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade.

John hesitantly read the first message, and sighed deeply.

(14:37) Your friend is an annoying git! You can tell him I said that- GL

(15:22) John you need to talk to him. He is out of control- GL

(15:30) Let him know that if I ever hear him talking like that to Molly Hooper again I will deny him access to cases… After I beat the shit out of him- GL

At the mention of Molly Hooper's name, John no longer felt it necessary to continue reading the message. He opted to call instead.

"Hey Greg, I saw that I missed your call. Sorry about that, been sick. What's going on?" John could hear the weary sigh on the other line.

"No problem. Just got into a tussle with the arsehole supreme himself."

"What did he do to Molly Hooper?"

"Oh you mean aside from humiliate the poor girl?" The detective inspector then released a string of curse words aimed towards Sherlock, some of which the ex-army captain had never heard of.

"Well we fished a body out of the Thames earlier today and had it brought to Bart's, just like I always do. I called Sherlock in to help identify the victim, but he wasn't answering. I tried you too, didn't know you were sick. Sorry mate." John hummed in acknowledgment and encouraged him to continue.

"So I head to the morgue and see it all locked up. I figured Molly was probably eating lunch at the hospital canteen so I decided to head up, get myself a cup of coffee, and wait for her to finish. As I get there I see that Molly was sitting with Sherlock. I thought it was weird, I mean he's not working on any cases (well not mine at least), so that begs the question, why was he already there waiting with Molly?"

Greg took a deep breath in. "I approached their table just as Sherlock said, 'You should really watch what you're eating Molly. It's taking its toll on you!' Can you believe that, who says that? To a woman, no less! Even he has to know that that wasn't good!"

John was fighting the bile threatening to come up. Whether it was from the flu or the audacity of his friend's words was undecided. "So what did Molly do?"

"At first she sat there, shocked I suppose. It wasn't until I touched her shoulder that she looked up and covered her face. All I could understand was her asking over and over, 'Am I fat? Am I ugly?' Damn sight broke my heart. Finally she dropped her plate on the floor before muttering something about not being able to eat anymore. And then she ran out."

After a few minutes of silence, John was able to mutter his next question. "How is she doing?"

"Ugh, I don't know John. I tried to follow her out but she was too quick. Besides I had my hands full with Sherlock. He just sat there blinking at me, pretending not to understand how he offended her! And apparently I wasn't the only one who heard the exchange; if I hadn't gotten him out of there I am pretty sure there would have been a riot. The staff was pretty pissed!"

A brief smile spread on John's face as he pictured doctors and nurses beating up the git. "Serves him right. Well Greg, you are not the first to notice this behavior. Mike Stamford told me that he's been having trouble getting along with Molly. Which is completely idiotic! She's the most pleasant person we know."

Greg scoffed, "Yeah and then calling her fat! Molly Hooper fat? That's ridiculous! We certainly got a good look at her that Christmas, to know that girl is anything but fat. There are times that I dream about her wearing that dress-"

Fearing the conversation was treading dangerous waters, John decided to cut him off. "Sorry Greg, I think that's Charlotte crying, waking up from her nap. I'm going to talk to him… Please hold off on beating him up, or at least let me get a few shots in first!"

The Detective Inspector chuckled, "No promises mate! Just tell him that if he continues this behavior I won't work with him anymore. It took a lot of convincing before my bosses let me consult with Sherlock again after his 'fake death,'" he added the last part bitterly. "Aside from the fact that Scotland Yard has a working professional relationship with Bart's, Molly is my friend. And she doesn't deserve that."

A few more words were spoken before the two men hung up. This was a lot more serious that John thought. Sherlock's work was everything to him, and now Bart's and Scotland Yard had threatened to stop working with him. And why? Because he didn't know how to behave around a nice girl? It was stupid!

When Sherlock had returned after his two year mission, he came back a changed man. Occasionally he still had trouble with social niceties, but he was much more tolerable and tolerant of others. John was nowhere nearly as skilled in the powers of observation as the consulting detective was, but he wasn't blind either. Surely he would have noticed if Sherlock had a problem with Molly. He wasn't around as much anymore, but had he become so absorbed with his own family that he left his best friend behind? Was Sherlock reverting back to his old ways, back when he refused to care for others?

The guilt was crushing his soul. John and Mary had made a point of inviting him over often, but Sherlock always claimed to be working a case or performing an experiment. Other times he was with Molly. When he found out that they were often in each other's company John stopped worrying; he was glad that his friend wasn't alone. However had he known that his friend was mistreating and abusing the kind pathologist, he definitely would have put an end to it! As a matter of fact…

"I'm gonna fix this," he declared with determination. His first order of action was to talk to Molly. He quickly dialed her number, unconcerned with the time of night.

"Um… Hello?"

"Hey Molls, it's me John. How are you?"

"Oh John? Um- I'm good I guess. And you?"

"Good, good. Listen, I was calling to check on you. I heard about what Sherlock did, and I-"

Before he could finish, Molly interrupted. "Look it's not a big deal. It was just Sherlock being Sherlock."

"Molly, this is not okay! He shouldn't talk to you like that; especially after all you do for him!"

John cringed when he heard her stifle a sob. "I know, I know. But I've accepted the fact that things won't change. And it's alright."

"Well I won't accept it, and neither should you! Actually, I will go over tomorrow and have a discussion with the arsehole myself!"

"[Molly sniffled over the phone] Please John don't! I know you mean well, but just leave it be. I'm fine, really! I have to go, John. Give Mary and the baby my love. Bye!"

Molly hung up without giving him a chance to say goodbye. She couldn't even carry a conversation about Sherlock without being reduced to tears. Oh this was bad, definitely bad. Looking at the time on the phone display, he decided to go to bed. Despite her protestations, he was still going to have a talk with his friend. "Tomorrow afternoon," he decided, "I'll set him straight once and for all!"

After the last bout of nausea rolled around, John made it into bed. He had been in bed for two hours when his mobile began to ring. Grumpily, he reached over to his bedside table to get his phone.

"John, who is it?" Mary asked, still half asleep.

John groaned, "It's Mrs. Hudson. Why would she call me at six in the morning? Go back to sleep love, I'll take this in the other room." He leaned over and kissed her cheek quickly and walked into the living room to answer.

"Hello?"

Mrs. Hudson sounded panicked on the other end of the line. "Oh John, thank heavens you answered! I am sorry to call you so early, but I don't know what to do anymore!"

A number of scenarios ran through his mind. An intruder? Moriarty? Sherlock on drugs? Before his mind could get the better of him, he asked, "What happened Mrs. Hudson?"

"It's Sherlock! He spent most of the night stomping around the flat, but about an hour ago was when the shouting began!"

He knew he was being petulant, but it was 6 a.m. so no one could blame him for being slightly on edge. "He always shouts. What's the problem?"

His former landlady sighed, "Well the only other person up there is Molly Hooper…"

John shut his eyes and counted to ten. "I am on my way."

John was so caught up in his rage that the cabbie had to yell to get his attention. "We are here sir!" Throwing a few bills at the driver, John muttered his thanks and walked towards his former residence.

As soon as he made it inside he heard the thunderous baritone waft its way down the stairs…

"MOLLY HOOPER WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

End Notes: I know it sounds pretty bad for our Molly, but it does get better. I already have the next chapters ready and will post them soon. Please take a few seconds to review, it truly makes my day! :)