A bead of sweat rolling an oily trail down his spine, the hubbub pressing on his eardrums, Sherlock Holmes cursed the woman sat opposite him for what was possibly the hundredth time that evening. Only she could have induced him to break his streak, but after sixty-seven successful excuses, he was finally trapped on John's ritualistic post-case pint with the Yard's finest. Fighting a squirm as another drip chased the first, he retreated back into his mind palace, flinging open the door in search of diversion.

Hands lost in the curls of hair that kissed their way down to her collarbone, he had been powerless to avoid those pleading dark eyes.

"C'mon, it'll be fun."

"Doubtful."

"It will. Mary's got a sitter and I haven't seen her in weeks…

"You go see Mary then. And I'll stay here. I'm analysing the varying arsenic levels in London soils for my blog."

"You'd rather spend the evening in the company of arsenic-laden soil samples than… nope, not even gonna ask that one."

"I'd rather spend the evening alone with you, but that doesn't seem to be an option." As the gentle squabbling went back and forth, he had slid his hands ever downwards, coming to rest at the base of her spine with teasing strokes.

"Fine, be boring. It's not like it would have been a real date anyway, secret relationships seem to be ridiculously short on them."

Discomfited, despite her gentle tone, he tipped her chin up to regard her intently. "Joke?"

"Joke. I know, 'not my area'."

"Hmmm. If you wanted… we could…" Trailing off miserably, he scoured his mind for the right words, the sense of the feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"It's okay. I see you, remember - you need to reassure yourself you can do this… us… before trying to convince anyone else."

In the clumsy kisses he had pressed to her mouth, willing her to taste his fervour, his gratitude, his feelings too new and daunting to name, the exact moment of his capitulation was lost in the ebb and flow between them. Sunk deep in the eddies of this memory, fine detail swirled by the pints eagerly pressed on him and the overwhelming cacophony of sensory noise around him, a remark from Lestrade floated down through his consciousness, heaving him abruptly to the surface.

"So Molls, when you movin' in to Baker Street then?" Desperately looking anywhere but at the stunned man across the table, Molly mouthed incoherently for a few seconds, lost for an appropriate response.

"I- I- I live at my house."

"Sure, sure, but you're gonna have to make an honest man of him someday." As she continued to gape, laughs escaped through squashed fingers from around the table. "I'm only teasing, its only been what, couple o' months. Plenty of time yet."

"Months…. Of… Sorry, what?"

"You and Sherlock. Together."

"Me and…?" Her eyes now lasered across the table, desperate for a hand out of the hole she found herself in.

Deciding that a little defensive offense was acceptable here, Sherlock leaned in to intervene. "You've been spending too much time with Anderson, Lestrade. Maybe a little more police work, fewer tawdry novels in future?"

"Come off it mate, its totally obvious to anyone with even half a brain. And no-" he raised his hand to cut Sherlock off- "that does not rule me out."

"Busted." Molly exhaled, a smile flirting around the edge of her lips.

"Fine. Molly Hooper and I are, as you so elegantly put it, together. What gave us away?"

"It's your hands, mate." John cut in. "Can't keep them off her."

"I hardly think that's true."

"Really is."

Taking his arm with a squeeze, Mary looked fondly between the pair. "Mrs H spotted you first. 'My Mr Hudson, he was always a bit too handsy, if you know what I mean. But Sherlock, always a gentleman with our Molly. Respectful.' After that, it was obvious."

"Obvious how?"

"You're always reaching out, little touches when you think no one's watching. Just on her arms, shoulders. Its like you think she's gonna disappear on you." At the black look aimed her way, Mary laughed and gave him another tight squeeze. "Its cute really."

"Cute? Ha! That's not the word I'd use!" Enjoying the moment, Lestrade sipped his pint before continuing, "Don't think I didn't notice whipping your hand off her knee when I popped in to get the results from Mr Peterson's tox screen the other week! And Donovan nearly passed out when you brushed her hair out of the way so she could see down the microscope. I'm surprised you haven't had an earful from her in person, Molly!"

"God, I wish that was all I'd seen. Don't think the two of you even noticed when I walked in on you at Baker Street last week? Honestly, thought I'd go blind!" As the group broke down completely at John's remark, Sherlock made up his mind.

"Well if that's the case, no need to outlast you all for the pretence of a shared taxi. It's been… something. " Taking her hand, he heaved a giggling Molly to her feet and pulled her towards the door and the cool winter air.