A/N: This is my first Sherlock fanfic! I don't think I nailed the way Sherlock speaks but I gave it a shot! Let me know what you think. Happy Reading!

(I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters)

Molly Hooper had never been particularly known for her ability to make men jealous…well, then again, it's not like she'd ever gone out of her way trying. No. Much to her disappointment during her time at uni her fantasies of drunken men fighting for her honor in the local pub and audacious, jealously induced confessions of love were never met.

Once she'd graduated and began working at St. Bart's Molly began to seriously evaluate what she wanted in a relationship. She wanted a whirlwind romance so she dated Jim from IT, hoping an inter-office relationship would offer the excitement she was looking for. It was only bad luck he turned out to be a sadistic killer hell bent on destroying one of her few friends. After Jim-or Moriarty -Molly decided that all she really wanted was to feel safe; she was tired of the sociopaths, which is why she dated Tom, got engaged to Tom, and was planning on marrying Tom. That is…until the wedding of John Watson to Mary Moriston. When she saw the looks shared between Mary and John, she was unsettled. Tom never looked at her with as much love as John was looking at Mary. Next, when presented with a murder the man's best guess at cause of death was "meat dagger". Molly wanted safe not stupid. But the final straw was when Sherlock began deducing the guests and Tom made a comment that Sherlock was drunk. Now Molly had tried, she really did, to get over her crush on Sherlock Holmes and had been successful for the most part but when Tom insulted the consulting detective's genius, it was her natural reaction to stab him with a fork. Now Molly knew she wasn't an expert in relationships but she felt like that wasn't the best reaction towards the man she was going to marry. Later that evening, when she saw that the puncture marks on Tom's hand were still bright red, she knew they'd better end things. And they did later that night. Afterwards, Molly spent the rest of the night and next day on her couch eating ice cream and watching romantic comedies, complaining to Toby about her horrible taste in men. That night she swore to her cat she was taking a break from relationships.

That is until about a month after John and Mary's wedding. She'd been working in the morgue as usual, just finishing cleaning up her latest autopsy and about to begin the paperwork when Sherlock, John, and Lestrade came waltzing in. Sherlock moved straight to her work without offering her as much as a glance. John gave her a pitying smile and, as usual, followed Sherlock. Following John was Lestrade who smiled at Molly and politely asked how her day had been, standing closer than strictly necessary. They exchanged pleasantries for a little while until Sherlock exclaimed he'd solved the case and began striding to the door.

"Lestrade come on," Sherlock instructed when he'd heard only John's footsteps behind him.

"You go ahead, I'll catch up," Lestrade replied.

"Oh come on," Sherlock sighed, whirling around. "It is quite apparent you are about to ask Molly Hooper out on a date but given your marital status and the recent break in her engagement it is obvious she will say 'no'. Why bother with inevitable rejection when you could be putting Mr. DeCaro's sister in handcuffs?"

John offered a scolding "Sherlock" but the man in question offered no sign of remorse. A pregnant pause accompanied Sherlock's statement, Lestrade immediately becoming fascinated with what kind of polish they used on the floor while Molly stared intently at her clipboard, her ears turning bright pink. John's glare did nothing to stop the smug smirk that had found itself placed on Sherlock's lips.

"Come along John, Lestrade." Sherlock began heading for the door with John close behind. Lestrade looked up from the tiled floor to Molly, offering her a weak smile before turning to go.

Now Molly Hooper had never really been one for hasty decisions. She liked to be given time to think things through, so when she yelled "wait" a little too loudly, Molly wasn't exactly sure what made her do it in the first place.

"Greg," she said. "I'd love to go out with you. Can you meet me tomorrow at eight at the pub down the street?"

Lestrade nodded dumbly, too surprised that her outburst to form any words. Molly smiled at him before risking a glance at Sherlock. She night not have known exactly what caused her to so forcefully agree to go out with Lestrade but seeing the look on Sherlock's face, the utter confusion seemingly etched into his features, assured her it was worth it.

"See you tomorrow then, yeah?"

She asked.

Yeah," Lestrade smiled. "See you then. Come on boys, let's go arrest the sister. Lestrade made a move to pat Sherlock on the shoulder as the trio began to leave Molly's presence but Sherlock swiftly grabbed Lestrade's wrist before it made contact and whispered a harsh "don't" before dropping the hand and moving quickly out the morgue. Lestrade looked quizzically at John who simple shrugged before looking back at Molly, winking. She giggled softly as he left the room and returned to her paperwork.

Mary Morstan—now Watson—was definitely a woman who considered herself a schemer. Now, she wasn't necessarily a trickster but she did know how to put together and good plan and execute it flawlessly. So when her husband came home from a case one evening and told her Sherlock was acting strange after their visit to the morgue, she couldn't help but be the least bit curious.

"Stranger than normal, I assume."

"Oh yeah."

"Well then what did he do?"

"For starters he would not look at Lestrade. Sherlock told Anderson, Anderson! his deductions so Anderson could inform Lestrade about what to put in the case file."

"Was Lestrade nearby?"

"He was right there! Sherlock had me go stand by him while he relayed how he solved the case to Anderson. And then after that he just left. And, I mean, he does that sometimes, okay, quite often really but only if he is following a lead or a better case comes along, and he usually tells me if he's gotta dash, but he just went home. The man didn't even wait until the killer was in the cab before he was ducking under the crime scene tape."

"You followed him?"

"Naturally. He picked up that blasted violin and didn't say two words to me so I left."

"You said this was after you'd gone to Bart's? Did something happen with Molly?"

"No…I mean not with him. Lestrade did ask her out. Actually, Sherlock deduced he was going to ask her out and that she would say no."

"Well did she?" Mary asked, growing impatient.

"No. She asked him out, tomorrow."

"I see," Mary said smiling.

"What?"

Mary didn't respond and simply smiled, shaking her head softly.

"Mary, I know what it means when you smile like that. Why are you smiling like that?"

"Oh come on, John. You've known Sherlock for ages. You can't tell me you haven't picked up any of his deduction techniques."

"No apparently I did not; now please tell me what you're thinking."

"I think our Sherlock is jealous."

"Jealous?" John sounded appalled. "Of Greg? You're insane."

"Oh please don't tell me you haven't noticed!"

"Noticed? Noticed what?"

"The way he looks at her John. The way he kept glancing at her during his best man speech, the small smile he'd get when he could tell she like what he was saying." John looked completely dumbfounded. "You really didn't notice?"

"I must have been too busy looking at you," John replied cheekily, earning a chuckle from Mary and a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Nice try." John moved in for another kiss but Mary swiftly turned her head at the sound of her phone buzzing on the table.

"Oh come on! Who is it?"

"Molly," Mary responded. "She's invited me to lunch tomorrow."

"Are you going to go?"

"Yeah. It'll be fun."

Molly Hooper had not expected to grow as close to Mary Watson as she had in the time weeks before the Morstan-Watson wedding. Molly found that Mary was refreshingly normal compared to her coworkers. Mary, unlike some of her friends, was not immediately disgusted if Molly would stray onto the subject of her work, quite the contrary actually, she would seem interested. But Molly, out of habit, would apologize and change the subject to more trivial things, but overall the two got along rather well.

So, when Molly walked into the small café she'd invited Mary to, she was not surprised to see her friend already seated and with a drink in hand. Mary smiled brightly as the pathologist approached, standing up to pull her in for a quick hug.

"Sorry I'm late," Molly muttered, sliding into the empty seat across from Mary. "I wanted to finish some paperwork before I took off for the night."

"Oh no, you're fine. I got here a tad early anyhow. With John out with Sherlock most of the time the house can get awfully quiet."

"Yeah, thick as thieves those two are."

"Oh, honey, you don't know the half of it…" Mary began, spilling into stories of times when Sherlock showed up unannounced at three in the morning. The ladies laughed and joked as they ate, telling about their jobs and relationships.

"Oh yeah, John told me about Greg."

"Yeah, I don't really know what I was thinking," Molly said softly.

"So you're over Tom then?" Molly nodded, opening her mouth to say something but then closing it again. She thought for a moment.

"I don't think it was Tom I ever really needed to get over," Molly said, the realization igniting disappointment within the pit of her stomach. Mary nodded solemnly, well aware of the extent of her friend's crush on a certain consulting detective.

"It's just that, I really thought I'd done it this time. He was gone and Tom was nice and I just…I'm pathetic."

"Oh come on now, you know that's not true." Molly gave a questioning look. "Okay, maybe it is a little true but it's completely understandable. I'm sure loads of women lost their hearts to Sherlock Holmes."

"Yes but then he spoke and they were over it." Mary chuckled.

"Although that is probably true it doesn't make your situation any more pathetic. You're trying to get over him, at least. It's not like you follow him around like a puppy." Molly sunk her head into her hands. "Okay, so maybe you've done that too, but this date with Lestrade is a good sign."

"Maybe you're right."

"Maybe I'm right, of course I am right. And I know just what you need." Molly eyed her quizzically. "Let's go shopping, find you a great outfit, I'll do your hair and you'll knock the detective inspector dead and forget all about a certain consulting detective."

"If I knock him dead who do you think will come investigate?" Molly asked, receiving a deserved smack on the arm. "Alright, alright, I guess to wouldn't hurt."

Mary clapped her hands excitedly as the ladies gathered their things, paid, and left the café. The pair wandered through the shops for a little while. Molly, not completely thrilled with anything she was seeing. Mary, however, could have picked a million different things for Molly to try on but seeing her friends less than thrilled reaction decided against it. That is, until she saw a dress in one of the shop windows and insisted Molly must try it and she did. The pathologist tried on the pale blue dress that was both simple and understated and the complete opposite of what Molly usually wore, but that did not stop it from looking lovely on. At the advice of Mary and multiple ladies who were working there, Molly purchased the dress and the two began their trek to Mary's flat.

When Molly and Mary stepped through the door Molly could understand what Mary meant about the place being quiet. John had yet to return home, which meant there was no chance of Sherlock being around either, something Molly was thankful for. Now, it wasn't as though she didn't like Sherlock and didn't want to be around him. She did, obviously. The problem was that she liked him too much and Sherlock had no feelings for her whatsoever. Molly was tired of having her heart broken by a man who only needed her for lab access so she found that avoiding him was her best option.

"Molly," Mary said snapping her out of her Sherlock reverie. "Why don't you go change and then I can help you with your hair."

"Okay," Molly replied, stepping into the bathroom with her dress in tow. Mary went into the kitchen, put the kettle on, and grabbed to tea cups. She pulled out her phone and by the time she had finished her text to John, the kettle was boiling and their tea was ready. When Mary re-entered the kitchen Molly was just stepping out of the bathroom with her dress on. Mary motioned at the chair in front of her, handed Molly some tea, and began to work.

Half an hour later Molly's hair was pinned in a loose bun with a few soft curls framing her face. Her makeup had been touched up to match the style of her hair and dress and the ladies moved onto the dilemma that was shoes.

"We wear the same size," Mary said. "Just grab a pair from my closet." Molly did as she was told and went to find a pair of shoes. Just as Molly was out of sight a very distraught (and out of breath) John Watson came barreling through the door, Sherlock in tow.

"What's wrong?" John asked rushing to his wife. "Is the baby alright?" He gave her a once over, his hand coming to rest on her abdomen.

"Yes, yes," Mary replied, in an attempt to calm down her husband. "It was just a false alarm. Did the two of you run here?"

"There was traffic," Sherlock piped in. "We were only a mile away and your husband felt running would be better than waiting."

"Oh John," Mary laughed.

"I was worried. What happened?"

"Oh, I felt very—"

"Mary do these look alright?" Molly asked walking out of the bedroom, her eyes fixated on the four inch heels that donned her feet. It was quite apparent she was doing her best not to tip over. When she finally looked up she found the trio in the living room staring at her. "Oh, hi John. Sherlock."

"Molly," John replied. John turned to Sherlock, somewhat surprised by his silence to find the consulting detective staring intently at the pathologist. There was a look in Sherlock's eye John had never seen before and John could tell Molly was a little uncomfortable under the intensity of Sherlock's gaze but she never broke eye contact.

Mary cast a knowing glance at the pair, smiling smugly.

"Yes Molly, those look lovely," Mary eventually said. The sudden break in silence resulted in both Sherlock and Molly jumping slightly as they turned toward Mary, Sherlock possessing an unusual fire in his eyes. Mary glanced down at her watch.

"Molly, the time! If you don't leave now you're going to be late." Molly gave a surprised squeak before rushing toward the door. Molly brushed past Sherlock, not looking up at him, afraid of what he might say about her appearance, and pulled Mary in for a quick hug.

"Thanks for all of your help."

"Oh anytime. Now go! You don't want to keep Greg waiting," Mary replied with a wink. Molly turned bright red but continued smiling. Mary cast a quick glance at Sherlock who had noticeable paled. Mary's smile grew. The pathologist waved goodbye, closing the door softly behind her.

"So…" Mary started as she and John moved out of the entryway. "What have you two been up to this afternoon? Sherlock, I'm surprised John got you out of your flat. He's said you've been rather glum lately. Sherlock?"

Sherlock Holmes, whose eyes had been transfixed on the door since Molly disappeared behind it, whirled around.

"What did you do?" he growled.

"What do you mean?" Mary asked feigning innocence.

"Molly. What did you do to Molly?"

"Oh I helped her get ready for her date," Mary said simply. She turned to John. "She looked lovely didn't she?"

"No," Sherlock answered. Mary looked up at him, surprised. She'd been sure seeing Molly all dressed up would have pushed Sherlock over the edge. That was the only reason she'd texted John with a fake emergency.

"You don't think she looked pretty?"

"Molly Hooper is always beautiful. But that was not Molly Hooper." When neither Mary nor John seemed to understand his meaning, Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh and continued. "While the woman that just left this flat did adhere to societal restrictions for beauty and appeared physically pleasing, another woman's influence was too overwhelming for that to be considered Molly Hooper." Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Mary. "The makeup was wrong, the hair was wrong, the dress was wrong and the shoes were wrong. Molly Hooper does not employ the copious amounts of makeup that woman had on her face. Makeup is a tool of deception and Molly Hooper is not deceptive. She does not lie and not only because she's rubbish at it, which she is, but because it makes her feel guilty. That woman's hair was up. My Molly's hair looks better down. She only ever wears it up when she is working so her hair does not hinder her ability to perform an autopsy. The dress she had on was short and form-fitted and only one colour. My Molly's clothes are childish and loose and brightly coloured because it reminds her of her father who dressed in a similar fashion. The dress is short and Molly does not like to wear short dresses because she is insecure of her legs even though there is absolutely no need for her to be. Despite having a small mouth and breasts her features are not displeasing but they are all of little consequence compared to her mind. The clothes and the hair and the makeup were all unnecessary because Molly Hooper is already beautiful."

Sherlock finished looking rather frustrated.

Mary, whose brow had been furrowed for the majority of Sherlock's declaration, let out a small chuckle as her face broke into a grin.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Sherlock exhaled, rather annoyed.

"She's your Molly now?" Mary asked smugly.

"Oh you know what I meant."

"No I don't think I do would you care to elaborate."

"Mary," John whispered.

"No, let him continue. Come on Sherlock."

"What I meant was that Molly Hooper is more than Lestrade deserves and if he doesn't care for her, not the made up woman who just left this flat, then he is not worth her time."

"So you think you deserve her then?"

"Mary," John whispered a second time, nudging her and pointing her focus behind Sherlock.

"I—what are you to looking at." Sherlock whirled around, coming face to face with a teary eyed Molly Hooper.

"Did you mean all of that? What you said, just now… about me?"

"You are supposed to be on your date, what are you doing back here?"

"I rushed out so quickly I forgot my bag." She motioned to the small purse sitting on the floor next to where Mary and John were seated. He inwardly cursed himself for his lack of observation. "Sherlock, you didn't answer my question. Do you mean what you said?"

Sherlock took a step towards Molly, his hand coming up, his long fingers brushing a stray hair behind her ear. Molly looked up at him with bleary eyes. She could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears as he leaned in closer, his lips centimeters away.

"Every word."