So, I'm always talking about friendships in this fandom and how much people mean to me. Sherlockian87 (thesecitystreets on tumblr, or Streets as I call her) has always been amazingly supportive, one of my dearest friends. Back when I first started writing she was one of the first people who reviewed my fics. She was simply lovely and always has been. I've been working on this for a while because I wanted it just right for her.

I love you Streets. I hope you like your story. I put a few surprises in here for you.

Huge thanks go to MizJoely for betaing this story and for her encouragement. Also to MrsMCrieff who, bless her, helped me with a ton of Brit business.

No real warnings except perhaps some cannon typical violence and oh, yes... sex!

I own nothing except any mistakes you might find. Enjoy ~Lil~

Chapter 1 - A Favour -

"Sherlock!" Molly said loudly as she entered the lab, causing him to look up from the bacteria he was studying.

He immediately returned to his work. "Yes Molly."

"You owe me. You owe me big!" she stated, as if he was supposed to understand what she was talking about.

It did get his attention, however. "O-kay… what for?"

Once she was standing right next to him she continued, "You know, the endless supply of body parts, my constant assistance with your 'experiments'..." She put her fingers in the air making quote marks around the word "...and let's not forget the whole helping fake your death thing. I could have been fired or arrested or murdered… or worse."

"What's worse than murdered?"

She huffed. "Oh, never mind. The point is, you owe me!"

He crossed his arms, leaned back and said, "Fine, I'll bite. What is it you want, Molly?"

She drew herself up to her full five foot four inches and straightened her back before she started. "My mother, horrible woman, has gotten herself a new boyfriend. She's been demanding I visit her in Reading. I've put her off as long as I can but if I don't go see her she'll just come here. I'm going this weekend, well, I'm leaving tomorrow and coming back on Monday. And...and… I need you to come with me. I've already called John, Greg, and your brother so you can't lie and say that you're working, because I know you are not. If you had any cases via your site you wouldn't be here playing with spores." She waved her hand toward the microscope. "You've got nothing on. Nothing. My mother is relentless. Constantly reminding me just how single I am. You, my friend, are going to pretend to be my boyfriend. Shouldn't be hard, you've done it before after all. I'm not showing up at that woman's house with no man on my arm."

She shuddered. "Also, this man she's dating… he's younger than her, much younger. Though she won't tell me how much, which tells me she's gone and gotten herself a bloody teenager. He's American," She rolled her eyes. "and I want you to deduce the ever livin' hell out of him! Our relationship shouldn't be hard to sell, she knows I used to be mad for you," she said the words as if she was actually insane and shook her head. "I've already bought the train tickets. You'll meet me at Paddington at 11.30 tomorrow morning and be on your best behaviour so they don't suspect anything. When we figure out this weirdo's plan, I'll deal with mum and you can deal with him. Any questions?"

Sherlock just shook his head before Molly turned and walked back out the way she came. I really need to update my website, he thought as he watched her leave.

Ten minutes into the train ride Molly had her laptop out and was furiously typing. Sherlock tried to ignore it. The taps weren't difficult; her huffs of frustration, however, were impossible to overlook. "What the devil are you doing?"

"Working on a paper," she said without looking up.

He looked over and started reading. Pointing to the screen he said, "You missed a comma there." Reading… then more pointing. "That's a sentence fragment." Reading… "It's t-o-o not t-o. Bloody hell, Molly. I've read all of your papers. You never make mistakes like this!"

She frowned at him. "Stop reading over my shoulder. It's a rough draft!" she said as she made the corrections. "Hold on, you've read all of my papers?"

He looked away and mumbled, "Of course I have."

"Well, if you get bored this weekend, which you undoubtedly will, I'll let you proof this one."

He heard the barely concealed glee in her voice and only responded with a nod.

Half an hour later she put away her computer and turned to him. "So, we need a story."

"What sort of story, exactly?" he asked, knowing what she was talking about, but not able to resist goading her.

"Our story, you idiot! How we met, started dating, that kind of stuff."

"You've told your mother about me, undoubtedly, so our meeting is already established. As for the rest I think it best if you let me, the professional, handle it."

"Of course. You're practiced at this kind of thing."

He smiled. "That is why you asked for my help, is it not?"

She rested her head on her seat and sighed. "I suppose. Argh! This is going to be awful!"

"I thought the point of bringing me was to make it less awful."

"It's still my mother and her boy-toy." She shuddered.

He smirked. "It'll be fine, Molly."

"Yeah, you say that because you have lovely parents. My mother is a fecking monster!"

"Mummy is a menace. I avoid Surrey like it's the Seventh Gate of Hell," he said.

"I'd take Violet Holmes over Jacqueline Hooper any day!"

Sherlock soon learned exactly what Molly meant. Jacqueline Hooper was indeed horrible. She was obnoxious, critical and overly flirtatious. As he sat across from the woman he silently deduced her… Fifty-nine, five...no six cosmetic surgeries. Rhinoplasty, chin implant, two facelifts, breast implants and something altogether unholy happened with those lips. Lightens her hair. Actual colour is closer to Molly's. He squinted. Though with a touch of grey. He would have continued but was pulled out of his thoughts by an elbow to his ribs.

"What was that?" he asked looking from Molly to her mother to the young man who was hanging off of her.

"Mother asked if you enjoyed the train ride, Sherlock," Molly said.

"Ah," He put down his tea cup. "Yes, it was... pleasant."

"I avoid the train whenever possible," Mrs. Hooper said.

"I would have been happy to hire a car, but Molly had already made all the plans," he explained.

"Oh Molly," her mother said as she stood up and picked up some of the empty tea cups. "So head-strong. When will you learn that men don't like women who have to be in charge all the time? Never could act like a proper lady, this one," her mother admonished.

Molly seemed unaffected; her only response was a quick eye roll before standing up and assisting her mother.

"So… Tad, was it? What is it you do for a living?" Sherlock asked, directing the conversation to the American on the sofa.

"I'm a venture capitalist," he replied with a glint in his eye.

Oh, this is too easy. "What does that entail, exactly?" Sherlock asked, wondering how this obvious swindler would choose to answer the question.

"Well I invest in or provide the capital to start up small companies who want to expand but don't have access to the equities markets," he explained.

The fool had just given Sherlock the actual definition of the term; as if he'd simply looked it up and memorized it. He chuckled internally. If this were a case, which it sort of was, it'd barely be a three. He nodded as if he were truly interested. "And what companies have you invested in recently?"

"Oh, that would be a breach of confidentiality, Mr. Holmes."

"Of course," Sherlock said with a smile. Not really, you lying moron. "Please call me Sherlock. We're practically family, after all."

Tad nodded enthusiastically.

"And where in the US are you from?" Sherlock asked, not really caring.

"Florida, lovely state. Have you ever been?" Tad said.

If you're from Florida than I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy, he thought. New York, most likely, judging by his accent. "Yes, I have actually. Helped convict someone of murder in Florida once. It was most pleasant trip," Sherlock replied with a hint of menace in his voice. "They have the death penalty there…" He gave the con man his best 'sociopath smile' as Mary Watson like to call it.

Tad paled and picked some imaginary lint off of his leg.

Just then Mrs. Hooper came back into the room. "Dinner's ready," she announced.

They all settled down for a meal of seafood risotto, salad and, from the look of it, home-baked bread.

"I can only assume Molly doesn't cook for you like this, Sherlock," Mrs. Hooper said proudly as she scooped a healthy portion of risotto onto his plate.

"We're both quite busy. But she has cooked for me, I assure you." It wasn't a lie. Molly had reheated take-away for them both on many occasions. She had even made him grilled cheese… once. He'd caught on very quickly to Molly's mother's game; her need to put her daughter down in order to make herself feel better. It reminded him of so many bullies he'd encountered at school… he didn't like it.

"Oh, I'm talking about good food. Did she tell you that I went to culinary school? Bet she didn't."

"I don't believe she's ever mentioned it, no," he replied as he looked across the table at Molly to see how she was faring. She, once again, seemed completely unaffected as she served herself.

Her mother followed Sherlock's gaze. "Take it easy dear. You can't afford to gain anymore weight," she said when she saw how much food Molly had on her plate.

His fake girlfriend just ignored her mother and took a healthy bite of her the main course. "Hmm, lovely as usual, Mother."

"Yes Jackie, this is delicious. But then you're an amazing cook," Tad commented, smiling brightly at the older woman.

"How did you two meet?" Sherlock asked.

Jackie beamed. "Oh, on a cruise. Our cabins were just a few doors apart. Tad just swept me off of my feet," she explained.

"You see it was a singles cruise, you see. And during a dancing event one night, I, well after finally working up the nerve, asked Jackie to dance. We spent the rest of the cruise together. Best $1100.00 I ever spent." He gave the older woman a wink.

Sherlock wasn't hungry, even less after that little display, not to mention he was on a case, so he took a couple small bites then contented himself with sipping water. He watched Molly during the story; she looked a bit sad. He wasn't sure if it was because her mother seemed to be happy with this two-bit hustler and they were about to wreck it or if it was something else. He made a mental note to try to figure that out, if for no other reason than to have something to occupy his mind.

After several minutes Mrs. Hooper noticed that Sherlock wasn't eating.

"Is there something wrong, Sherlock?" she asked. "You've barely eaten."

"Sorry, it's lovely. I just prefer Molly's cooking."

The woman looked appalled. "I don't see how that's possible."

"She does this thing with cheese and bread." He smirked at Molly suggestively. "Exquisite."

Molly brightened a little and took a drink of her wine.

Mrs. Hooper turned to her daughter and said, "You really need to take it easy on the red wine, sweetie, or switch to white. Fewer calories, of course. That's your second glass, it'll go straight to your hips."

Molly's smile dropped and she shook her head.

"So, what about you two?" Tad asked. "What's your story?"

Molly raised a challenging eyebrow at Sherlock and he knew exactly why. He'd said he would take care of this.

"Well," he started, keeping his eyes on the young woman across the table, "Molly and I have worked together for many years. At one point, ages ago actually, she had a bit of a crush on me…"

Mrs. Hooper interrupted with a guffaw. All eyes turned to her. "What? Oh come on! She was completely in love with you for years. It's no secret."

No one responded. Sherlock had no intention of playing this wretched woman's games. He just returned his gaze to Molly and continued his story. "After years of taking her for granted and pretending that I felt nothing whatsoever for her, I finally came to realise that there was no longer any point in denying the inevitable."

"And what was that, exactly?" Mrs. Hooper asked with a hint of contempt to her voice.

Sherlock finally tore his eyes away from Molly to look at the woman who had brought his pathologist into the world and said, "That I love her."

For some reason he couldn't bear to look back at Molly again throughout dinner.

They finished eating, Sherlock refusing desert but gladly accepting the offer of coffee. Molly's mother continued her small jabs and insults, and it continued to crawl right up Sherlock's arse. He was actually surprised how much he was affected by the situation. He tried to tell himself that he'd feel the same if it were John or Mary. But deep down he knew that wasn't true. Most likely he'd be jabbing at the pair of them himself, light-heartedly of course. What he was witnessing was anything but light-hearted. It was vicious and unrelenting. This woman seemed completely unconcerned with the amount of damage she was causing. It had started the moment they'd arrived. Mrs. Hooper wasn't the least bit pleased that he and Molly had walked into the house hand in hand. She was shocked and instantly jealous. She looked like she'd swallowed something very bitter tasting. Since then she'd been picking at any and everything she could find to tear her only child completely apart. Frankly Sherlock had seen enough.

"I fancy a walk," he said turning to his pathologist. He'd made sure sit on the sofa after dinner, holding up an inviting arm towards Molly as she came into the room with two cups of coffee. Apparently her mother had talked her out of the tiramisu. When he asked about it, since he knew it to be her favourite dessert, Molly just smiled and patted his knee.

"Me too," she said to him then, turned to the odd couple across the room. "Mum, Sherlock and I are going to take a walk before we go to bed," she said standing up.

"Good idea. Walk off those extra glasses of wine, dear," her mother replied as Tad kissed her cheek.

They walked down the street that ran in front of Mrs. Hooper's house and didn't speak for several minutes. Finally Sherlock couldn't keep his deductions in any longer. "You didn't grow up here," he said. "You're from a much smaller town."

"Mum moved here six months after dad died. I was at uni at the time," she said as they turned and walked west. "She didn't even phone me. Just sent me a letter with her new address, then a week later I got several boxes of my things in the wasn't room in her new life for me, I suppose." She paused and he found himself watching her carefully. "She hasn't always been quite this bad, you know. But she loved daddy so much. I mean she's always been selfish and a bit of a bully. Always obsessed with my weight, for some reason. And she never approved of me choosing the sciences over something more... domestic. But after we lost dad it seemed like there wasn't much we had in common. Our phone conversations have been limited to whether or not I have a man in my life or her offering to pay for breast implants."

"What?"

She looked up at him and laughed. "Yeah, can you imagine? Actually, don't answer that." She looked away, seemingly uncomfortable. "She was more interested in me while I was engaged to Tom. Oh, she gave me seven kinds of hell for breaking up with him."

"Ah, Tom. The lovable idiot."

"In some ways she's right,though," she said as they walked.

"How?" he asked, almost surprised that he actually cared.

"I'm weird, Sherlock. You've said it yourself, though not exactly like that. I have no social skills, I spend more time with the dead than the living, and there's nothing particularly special about my looks. Frankly Tom was a good catch. I should have tried harder, but my heart wasn't in it."

He didn't know how to respond to her, so he didn't. Though he couldn't help but notice the odd feeling that had overcome him at hearing Molly's honest appraisal of herself. He also couldn't stop himself from disagreeing… completely. He tried to shake the feeling, but it was useless. Thankfully, Molly changed the subject.

"So, Tad… what's his game?"

"Yes, young Tad. Well, he's thirty eight," he said raising an eyebrow. "And clearly interested in your mother for more than her recently purchased good looks."

"I knew it!" Molly said.

"His name isn't Tad Chancellor. What a ridiculous alias. Though in his defense, being American, he couldn't have known that he was attempting to hoodwink the mother of one of my closest friends. Or even who I am for that matter. Walked right into that one." He laughed at the man's misfortune.

They had made it to a small park and Molly sat on a bench before she spoke again. "I really appreciate this, Sherlock. I, ah, never said thank you."

"There's no need, Molly. As you've pointed out, I do indeed owe you. And now that I've witnessed Jacqueline Hooper first hand, I would no more have allowed you to come here alone than I would have sent you into a fire-fight armed with a water gun."

Molly laughed and Sherlock realised how much he enjoyed the sound, it made him quite happy if he was completely honest. Best not to dwell on that, he thought.

When they arrived back at the house, they walked into the sitting room to find Jackie and Tad in the middle of a full on teenage makeout session. Molly cringed and excused herself to their room, while Sherlock happily followed.

As she was gathering her clothes she said, "I'm going to take a very hot shower and attempt to scald my eyeballs. God, she's disgusting." She walked out of the room mumbling about how her mother was purposefully trying to scar her.

Sherlock, personally, saw nothing wrong with an older woman dating a younger man, and he was confident if it were any other woman Molly wouldn't either. But Mrs. Hooper and Molly had a long and complicated history and their many unresolved issues were working against both of them. He decided that he'd done enough psychoanalyzing for the time being. He used Molly's laptop to check his website… nothing. The same was the case with his phone although he did have several messages from both John and Mary asking how things were going.

Everything is going fine. Stop sending texts - SH

He sent the same text to both John and Mary then remembered he needed to ask his brother for a favour. As much as he hated do it, needs must.

I need you to run a photo through your facial recognition software. He's American.- SH

He sent the text to his brother, and waited for a response. More than ten minutes later and still no reply, he was starting to get frustrated. Then realised that Mycroft would need more motivation than that.

It's for Molly - SH

His phone pinged within sixty seconds.

Whatever I can do to help-M

Sherlock laughed as he typed his reply. Molly might not be much of a cook, but his brother certainly loved her fairy cakes along with her liberal use of frosting.

I'll send you a photo within the next 24 hours - SH

The detective retreated into his mind palace to consider the various ways young Mr. 'Chancellor' could be attempting to take advantage of Molly's mother. He had come up with six possibilities when he felt the bed move and looked to his left to see his fake girlfriend, freshly washed, and enjoying the tiramisu she'd been denied earlier in the evening. He couldn't help but smile when he saw how much she was enjoying it.

"She's a pain in the arse but God can she cook. I've never been able to make it like hers." She took another bite. "You have to try this, just one bite," she said holding up a spoon full.

It did look rather inviting. Reluctantly Sherlock parted his lips and allowed Molly to put the decadent coffee flavoured dessert in his mouth. She watched him with an expectant smile on her face, then caught her bottom lip between her teeth. He followed her eyes as they watched his tongue lick the remnants off of his lips. Her smile dropped and she flushed just a tiny bit. How long has it been since that happened? he wondered as he swallowed.

She seemed to shake herself out of the moment as she asked, "Well, it's good isn't it?"

He just nodded as he watched her skin return to its natural colour, missing the pink tinge. He cleared his throat. "I've contacted Mycroft. We need to get him a photo of Tad. Can you manage to take his picture with your phone tomorrow?"

"I don't see why not," she said as she got up and walked across the room, placing the empty bowl on the dresser.

She had changed into her pajamas; a light long sleeved cotton tee and satin sleep pants, covered in yellow flowers. He hopped up, grabbing his night clothes and toothbrush, then went to the bathroom.

By the time he got back to the guest room Molly was already in bed. It was a small room, painted in a ridiculous green colour, with the bed pushed against the far wall. Molly had taken the side closest to the wall and was curled up facing away from the room. Sherlock got in bed and turned off the light.

He wasn't tired. Not in the least. The day hadn't been taxing and he was certain that sleep wouldn't come easily. As he looked over at his bed-mate he realised just how far away she was. "Molly, is there a reason you're hugging the wall?"

"I'm trying to give you plenty of room," she said.

"You're not going to be awkward about this are you, we have shared a bed before."

She turned over. "Yes, but my bed is a king and this is a double."

"Still plenty of room."

She huffed. "Fine. You want to know the real reason?"

"Obviously."

"You kick. In your sleep you… kick."

"I do not," he replied confidently.

"I knew you'd deny it. Trust me and my shins, Sherlock. You kick," she said before rolling back over.

He thought about it for a moment and realised that he really had no idea if he did indeed kick or not. Janine had never commented on his sleeping habits, as if she would. Not to mention most nights he managed to make a discreet getaway after she'd fallen asleep to… yes, not thinking about smack houses right now. And… well, besides Molly, that was about the extent of his experience of bed sharing in the last ten years. "All right. I suppose it's possible that I kick."

"No worries. You can't help it," she said tiredly.

Still not the least bit sleepy, he decided to go back to working on Tad and his malicious intentions toward Molly's mother. It was just about the most uninteresting case he'd had months. As a matter of fact, if anyone other than Molly had offered it to him his answer would have been no. He wouldn't even have considered it. But for Molly... of course he'd do it for her.

His mind was busy working on a solution to the Tad problem when he felt himself being shaken.

"No! No, this is NOT happening!"

"What, Molly? For God's sake!"

"Don't you hear that?" she asked.

"Hear wh…" Then of course he heard it: the sounds of two people in the throes of passion. "Oh…"

Molly sat up in bed and Sherlock turned on the light. She was attempting to cover her ears as she rocked slightly. "She's doing this on purpose!"

"Well, people seldom do that on accident."

His bedmate glared at him. "We haven't seen each other in nearly a year and she can't wait a couple of days to get off with her… with her… ARG!"

"Do calm down, Molly. It'll be over… soon."

"Try to imagine your parents having sex, Sherlock. See if that's not the least bit disturbing!" she barked back.

She had a point. He shook himself trying to get rid of the unwanted image. "Okay, come here," he said, pulling her by her shoulders.

"What?!"

"Stop being hysterical and come here." He pulled her towards him laying back in bed then tucked her head into his shoulder and covered her ear with his large hand. "Just think pleasant thoughts. This is why you need a mind palace. I'd have no problem blocking out their… noises."

"God this weekend couldn't get worse!" She burrowed closer to him, her arm holding him tightly across his stomach. "Did I just say that? That's an invitation for disaster."

Sherlock chuckled. "She really gets to you, doesn't she?" Molly nodded. "You do a good job hiding it in front of her." He was actually impressed with Molly's ability to remain cool in her mother's presence.

"My dad... he taught me actually. After one of her rants about my appearance Dad came and found me. He said just to take it. That fighting back didn't do any good. Then he spent an hour telling me how beautiful I was. That I was smart and special. He said trying to make Jacqueline Hooper see the truth in her hateful words made as much sense as arguing with a tree. He always worked double time to make me feel like I wasn't ugly and worthless." She tilted her head up at Sherlock and looked at him for the first time. "It worked. I mean I know I'm not gorgeous, but I don't make milk curdle either. Somewhere in between, I suppose."

It shocked Sherlock that she'd been able to say that to his face, never averting her gaze. Molly Hooper had come a long way. A very long way, he thought, considering what I know now. He'd always know Molly wasn't a fan of self-pity, now he had the full picture. For some reason it made him want run away with her, protect her even though he knew she didn't want protection.

"For fuck's sake! How long must this torture go on?" Molly shouted.

"Well, Tad and I are roughly the same age and I know how long I can…"

"NOT helping!" she interrupted scooting away from him.

"Right. Shall I tell you about an exciting case I recently solved? Dazzle you with my detective skills."

She sighed and snuggled in closer. "I suppose."

Molly was asleep before he could tell her how he solved it.

Okay, I know that's a long chapter, the rest are a bit shorter... a bit. Hope you liked it. Please let me know. Thanks for reading. ~Lil~