So the prompt which came from lilsherlockian1975 was - Brainy is the new Sexy. Sherlock discovers Molly is a Mensa member and more intelligent than he had realised.

I had to give it some thought but this is what I came up with. Lil I hope you like it, this is for you my friend and as I'm being cheeky it's an early birthday present as well xxx.

As always I own nothing.

Brainy is the New Sexy

Molly realised at a young age that it wasn't good for her to flaunt her intelligence too much. She learnt to build up a persona of being friendly and bright but not to be too intimidating. People didn't like it if she was too overtly intellectual; they called her precocious and not in a nice way, friends stopped hanging around with her and boyfriends felt inadequate and dumped her. It was easier to just pretend in order to get by and bit by bit it just became second nature to her.

The only time she didn't hide it was in her academic work. Over the years she had often received praise from her teachers and then lecturers but she didn't mention it to her peers, didn't flaunt it. In the area where she grew up there were no gifted and talented schemes, no one to push her and encourage her to take exams early so she plodded along with everyone else often wondering in her early years why they struggled so much with work that she found simple.

It was a little easier by the time she reached university. There at least she was with other bright kids and could let herself shine a little more even if she was still the brightest by far. She dated and even had a couple of serious boyfriends but it was still the one area where she had to keep her light under a bushel. Guys just didn't seem to like her being more intelligent than them. They seemed to find it emasculating and she would find their lack of intellect a bit suppressing after a while.

She'd thought it wouldn't matter when she fell in love, that once she was truly in love with a man; that she would accept him for being who he was, for being kind and gentle, or interesting but she was wrong. Just over a year with Tom and kind though he was his stupidity just started to irritate and overwhelm her. Regardless of her feelings for Sherlock, which since he'd returned were as strong as ever, the 'meat dagger' comment was the last straw and she broke up with him less than a week later. She needed someone who could challenge her on an intellectual level not just physically.

When she thought about it, which she did often, it was really no surprise that she fell for Sherlock so hard and so fast. He was the first man she had met who was significantly more intelligent than she was. It was a huge aphrodisiac. The fact that he also wasn't put off by her choice of career added to his appeal but no matter what she did she couldn't seem to get him to notice her...not really, not emotionally and physically.

Yes, she knew he had fast realised that she was quick and competent and they were even friends now but he never really 'saw' her, never really looked beyond the surface she presented and if he did it wasn't to question how bright she was.

It was a few weeks after all the upheaval at New Year. Sherlock was back in Baker St following an enforced short stint in rehab. She was angry with him for yet another lapse but still grateful that he was here and alive and not out in god knows where getting himself killed. She'd heard his reasons and to an extent understood them. He had thought he was going on a suicide mission, that he was leaving his friends and family for the final time. Why not go out on a high? But his drug use terrified her; she knew the dangers, saw them at least once a week on her slab. The line between high and dead was too slim, too fraught with danger.

Never the less she still accepted him back into her lab and her life. He needed the stability of work and his friends more than ever. Rejection would only give an advantage to the drugs.

It was one such day when he was in the lab conducting some experiments. He was helping Lestrade with a case but he'd told her it was fairly minor, barely a five, and he didn't need her help. She had sat in the same room with him, rather than in her office, just enjoying the silent companionship. She'd almost finished her paperwork when an email came through on her laptop.

It was a reminder that her Mensa membership was due to expire and asking her the renew. She clicked though to her membership seeing her test score on the screen; 173. It made her smile. It wasn't often that she thought about it or let herself be vain about it but sometimes it was nice to see, to be reminded that she wasn't the idiot that hanging around with Sherlock sometimes made her feel.

She glanced over at him taking in the black shirt with the sleeves rolled up showing off those slim, muscular forearms. His hand was on the dial of the microscope making small changes as his lips moved. She knew he spoke to himself, reciting his results, committing them to his mind palace. It wasn't good to watch him for too long. It made her want to just go over and kiss him or touch him as she felt desire for him wash through her. Dammit, did he have to be so good looking and so unattainable.

She wondered what his IQ was. It must be well over 200. Probably one of the highest in the world, him and his brother, though Mycroft had all the intelligence but none of the personality of his younger brother, at least not as far as she was concerned.

Just then one of her interns came into the room, 'Doctor Hooper, sorry but we need your help in the morgue. Johnson has found a hematoma in the body of Mrs Wilson and we're not sure if it's the cause of death or not.'

'I thought Dr Stamford was overseeing your work this afternoon?'

'Yes he was but he got called away about twenty minutes ago. It looked like s straightforward autopsy at that point but...'

Molly sighed and shook her head but followed him out of the room. She enjoyed the teaching side of her role but it was a little like having needy children at times.

Sherlock looked up as Molly left but didn't pay much attention. He had just about cracked this case but he needed to confirm that there were roadworks on Chapel Road; if that was the case it was the accountant who had done it. He looked around for his phone before remembering it was in his jacket in the morgue.

Normally he would have called for John to go and retrieve it but John was inconveniently tied up with Mary who had given birth the week before.

He huffed in frustration not wanting to have to go downstairs. It was then that he spied Molly's laptop open on the workbench where she had been working.

He stood up and swiftly made his way over, already thinking through password combinations in his head should it be locked. Fortunately it wasn't and he slid into Molly's seat noticing it was still warm from her presence there. He enjoyed her company in the lab, it had been his main reason for coming in today. The tests he'd been working in could easily have been done at home but Baker St was quiet without John and he found himself craving human contact. Molly had always been his 'go to person' when John was not around and so here he was.

He was about to open a new page when the one she was on caught his eye. It was Molly's Mensa page and he stared at the number before him. He had always known that Molly was more than competent, after all she was the only one he trusted to help him with tests and carry out autopsies on his cases but...well he hadn't realised just how bright. How had he not noticed that?

He pushed it to the back of his mind for a moment whilst he googled a site showing local roadworks. He grinned as soon as he saw the confirmation that he was right about the case and quickly sent off an email to Lestrade.

The only downside was that that left him without a case for the first time since he'd come back from his exile. He'd even worked through his rehab...anything to break up the tedious monotony of that useless place. It hadn't taken him long to work out that it had been Mycroft behind the video. It had been a strange feeling being grateful to him for once, not that either of them had made a big deal of it when they finally discussed it. Maybe though they were both getting more sentimental the older they got.

That brought him back to Molly and that eye-opening Mensa score. He made his way down to the morgue to pick up his jacket and coat and as he did he paused for a while watching from the side-lines as Molly expertly explained to the junior doctors the true cause of death of the old woman on the slab. He felt a little as though he were seeing her with a fresh pair of eyes; in a new light. She knew exactly what she was talking about; there was no hesitation no nervousness.

He put his hand up to say goodbye to her before he pushed his way out of the double doors and thoughtfully made his way up to the exit. He'd always assumed Molly was fairly average, yes she was brighter than most but that wasn't hard most people were mouth-breathing idiots in his opinion. But now he thought about it she was a doctor just as John was but she implicitly helped with all his lab tests whereas John didn't, couldn't really on the whole. He'd never questioned that.

He climbed into a waiting cab and barked out his address before looking out of the window onto a dreary, grey London. Another memory came to mind; him going to Molly for help calculating his and John's capacity for alcohol. He closed his eyes and took himself back to that afternoon. Had he seen her using a calculator? They'd done some quite complex calculations and had both done them in their heads. Now he thought about it he distinctly remembered her answering before him a couple of times. How had he not picked up on that?

A voice in his head said because you've never really noticed her, you always miss something.

As the cab pulled up outside 221 he glanced up at the windows as he paid the driver. He never came back to a warm and welcoming flat any more. Maybe you should invite Molly round one night. He shook his head wondering where that thought had come from.

He opened the front door and called out to Mrs Hudson but there was no response from her flat. It looked like she was out for the evening. At least she'd laid a fire before she'd left so once he lit it it didn't take long for the flat to warm up.

He changed into his dressing gown, made a coffee and then grabbed his laptop before half lying on his settee. He was still intrigued by Molly and had decided to search to see if she had written any peer review papers. He couldn't believe he had never checked before.

Three hours later and he was still working his way through them. His estimation of Molly's skills and knowledge had risen exponentially over the course of the evening. He pushed himself off the couch and made a sandwich before flopping back down and eating it as he read the next paper Application of Solid Phase Microextraction Methods for Forensic Toxicological Analysis of Postmortum and Decomposed Samples. Sherlock thoroughly enjoyed her writing style, her arguments and the evidence she used to back it all up. He even recognised some of her examples as having come from autopsies of his cases.

He finished the paper noting that it was past midnight, the fire was almost out and his need for sleep was starting to affect his mind. It didn't help that he'd been up the night before attending the crime scene with Lestrade.

He made his way to bed with thoughts of Molly swirling around in his head. He thought through their past and more recent interactions. He felt he understood now why he had always intrinsically trusted her, he connected with her in a way he rarely did with others. She was more of an equal to him than almost anyone else even John. He recalled how guilty he had felt when she had found out about his drug use. No one else ever made him feel guilty like she did, not Mycroft, not John, not anyone. But Molly made him feel things he didn't always like to acknowledge he felt.

It was with those thoughts in mind that he drifted into a restless sleep.

I feel I should put in an acknowledgment that the paper I said Molly had written was actually written by one Sam Houston. I hope he or she didn't mind me stealing the title for my fic but I wanted something that sounded authentic...thank you google.

So, it's not a long fic. Three chapters in total so I'll post every other day so long as work allows. Give me your feedback please #needy.