A/N: This is the last chapter, this time I'm certain. More Tom bashing ahead (he gets what's coming to him).

A text alert woke Molly Wednesday morning a week later. She stared at the text in disbelief, made one phone call for confirmation, then texted Sherlock.

7:15a Good morning, Sherlock. Molly

When he didn't reply right away, she got up and pulled on her bathrobe then went into the kitchen to start the coffee maker. The pot was half-full by the time he replied.

7:37a It's too early to be morning, but good whatever-this-is anyway. SH

She grinned as she read it, loving his attempt at being polite.

7:38a I just got a text from work – my part of the building is closed. There's apparently a rat infestation and exterminators are being brought in, so I'm off today. Molly

7:39a Excellent! SH

7:40a You wouldn't know anything about the infestation, would you? Molly

7:42a Just because I 1) know where you work,

7:43a 2) know how many rats it takes to be considered an infestation,

7:44a and 3) have a great desire to see my girlfriend, you think I did it? SH

7:44a Wouldn't it be easier to just say no? :) Molly

7:45a You'll find that I rarely give plain and simple answers. SH

7:46a Uh huh. What time can you come over? Molly

7:48a Why don't you come over here? You haven't seen my flat yet. SH

Molly stared at her phone, pleasantly surprised.

7:50a I'd love to, what time? Molly

7:51a Give me two hours, my flat isn't in a fit state for visitors right now. SH

7:52a Dirty underwear on the floor, got it. ;) I'll see you then. Molly

Two hours later, she knocked on the door of 221B. It was opened by an older woman with kind eyes. She smiled at Molly happily.

"You must be Sherlock's girlfriend! I'm Mrs. Hudson, his landlady."

Molly smiled back. "I'm Molly Hooper."

"Do come in." She stood aside and Molly stepped into the foyer. "I want to thank you, dear," Mrs. Hudson went on. "Not only is Sherlock happier than I've seen him in ages, he's cleaned his flat today for the first time in who knows how long."

Molly raised an eyebrow, smiling. Typical bachelor. "Not exactly a neat freak, then?"

Mrs. Hudson laughed. "Hardly. The only thing he's fussy about is his wardrobe, and he leaves ironing his clothes to me." At Molly's surprised look, she smiled. "Not that I mind, it's nice to be useful. He said you can go on up as soon as you get here."

She nodded, smiling. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." Molly started climbing the stairs, already hearing a violin coming from the next floor. Well, he said he played, she thought, smiling to herself. When she got to the landing, she could recognize the song as "Dust in the Wind."

At the top of the stairs, she could see the door to what she assumed was Sherlock's sitting room was wide open. Sherlock was playing by the window, his back to her. Molly stood in the doorway and took the time to admire his body. He has the best arse in history.

"I can feel your eyes on me, you know," he said softly, still playing.

"You can't blame me for admiring the view," she responded playfully. She moved into his field of vision, smiling at him happily when he raised his eyes to her. "You play beautifully, I've always loved violin music. I met Mrs. Hudson downstairs, she's a dear."

"She is, and thank you." He finished the tune then carefully set the Strad and bow down. "You'll be meeting my best friends John and Mary Watson soon – I suspect Mrs. Hudson has already texted them." He did not look thrilled over that prospect.

"You don't want me to meet them?" Molly realized she felt more hurt than she expected.

"I do," he said quickly, "but I expected it to be later in our relationship. Before you meet my parents, certainly." He gently wrapped his arms around her and leaned to kiss her forehead.

That's something we have to talk about. "Sherlock," she said gently as she raised her hands to lightly squeeze his shoulders, "we've been dating for a week and a half. I've enjoyed every minute of it, but I'm wondering why we haven't kissed yet."

"What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely confused. "I kiss you all the time."

"Yes, on my hair, my forehead, or my cheek, but never my mouth. When I try to kiss you, you move your head so I end up kissing your cheek." She smiled a bit. "Is this your way of saying my breath smells?"

Sherlock chuckled. "No, your breath is fine. I haven't kissed you yet, or let you kiss me, because Mary said that I need to take things slow if I expect this relationship to last, what with you being on the rebound."

Molly blinked in surprise. "I'm definitely not on the rebound - you made me realize that Tom wasn't good enough for me. I'm glad you want this relationship to last. I do too, but I also don't want you to hold back." Kiss me, dammit.

"In that case…" He lowered his head to kiss her softly.

Woohoo! Molly kissed him back then smiled up at him brightly when he pulled back. "That's what I was missing. More of those, please."

Sherlock grinned back and was about to kiss her again when they heard a voice from the doorway.

"Looks like we got here just in time, Mary," a blond man said, smirking.

Sherlock glared at him. "I liked it better when you didn't live so close." He gave Molly an apologetic look then went to relieve the blonde woman who just walked in of the toddler on her hip. Sherlock turned back to Molly. "Molly, these are my best friends, Dr. John Watson and his wife, Mary." He smiled fondly at the toddler he held, his voice softening. "And this is my goddaughter, Rosie."

Molly smiled happily. "It's very nice to meet you all, Sherlock's always talking about you."

"I doubt that," Mary said, smirking, "but it's nice of you to say." She looked Molly over, her smirk turning to a genuine smile. "You're just as Sherlock described you." Mary turned to him, ignoring his "cut it out" gesture. "What was it you said, 'the physical embodiment of cute'?"

Really? Aww! "Is that so?" Molly asked him, amused.

Sherlock's resulting blush was brighter than she'd ever seen it. "You're not even close, Mary. What I said was that Molly is both definitions of adorable – she's cute and she's worthy of adoration, in this case, mine."

I think my heart just melted. Molly beamed at him then grabbed his shirt and pulled him down for a passionate kiss.

Mary grinned at her husband. John just rolled his eyes.

"You're telling me a grown man who's supposed to be in full command of his faculties willingly got into a cab driven by a serial killer?" his girlfriend asked, amazed.

Molly sat beside him on the sofa, one hand on his knee, which she would occasionally pat in sympathy while John told her of their past exploits. Sherlock had one arm around her and wished his other visitors would leave so he could wrap his other arm around her and snog her breathless.

He groaned quietly. Of all the cases he could embarrass me with, John just had to go with that one.

His former flatmate grinned from the chair by the sofa. "Yes. I'm surprised you haven't realized yet that Sherlock doesn't have much of a self-preservation instinct."

"I don't know if it's so much that as not having the sense God gave a goose," Mary said, also grinning. She was on the floor beside the coffee table, playing with Rosie.

Sherlock rolled his eyes while Molly giggled. "I assure you, Molly, that I have much more sense than members of the Anserini family and a well-honed self-preservation instinct. That night, I was more interested in what the cabbie had to say than staying safe at home."

"You know what they say about curiosity and cats, right?" John asked.

"It's a good thing I'm not a cat," he replied smugly.

Molly grinned. "I wouldn't say that – you're always well-groomed, you either act like you own the place or you sulk more than a teenager, and while you love solitude, you also love a good cuddle."

Sherlock could feel his cheeks turning pink once again. "That makes me cat-like but not a cat."

She leaned to murmur in his ear. "If I rub your ear, will you purr?"

He shivered. Purr, meow, whatever you want. He looked at John and Mary. "Don't you two have somewhere you need to be?"

"Yes, right here," John said, grinning. "Molly, did Sherlock tell you about the time he-"

"I think we've had enough reminiscing," he said firmly. God knows what he'll bring up next.

Mary apparently decided to take pity on him. "We should head home, Harry's coming over for dinner."

"My sister," John explained to Molly after seeing her curious look.

"Who is celebrating one year of sobriety," Sherlock said.

"How did you … never mind," John said, shaking his head.

After goodbyes and a few "lovely to have met you" were exchanged, three of the people Sherlock cared most about in the world left, leaving him alone on the sofa with the fourth.

"Finally," he muttered. He wrapped both arms around Molly and was about to proceed with snogging her breathless when she lightly covered his mouth with her hand, grinning.

"Before we start anything, shouldn't you give me a tour of the flat?"

He stared at her. "You want a tour now?"

"Yes. Tour first, snogging later."

This woman is going to be the death of me, but what a sweet death it will be. Sherlock reluctantly got up and held out a hand to her.

Molly took it and stood up, taking a good look around the room. She gravitated towards his and John's chairs by the fireplace, then looked back at him, smiling a bit. "These are where you and John sit while you talk to clients."

He nodded, smiling back. "Can you guess whose is whose?"

She turned back to the chairs and seemed to give them each serious consideration. Molly sat down in John's for a moment then got up and sat down in his. She looked up at him, grinning. "This one's yours."

"What makes you say that?

"It's just like you – sleek and sophisticated to look at, but when you try it out, you realize it's the coziest one in the room."

He felt his cheeks turning pink, again. This is becoming quite a habit. "Yes, that's mine."

Molly stretched a bit in his chair, giving Sherlock interesting thoughts, then she got up again and went over to the mantle. She gently picked up the skull and looked at it from several angles. "Male, middle-aged, took good care of his teeth." She turned the skull over and blinked in surprise. "Cause of death, gunshot wound." She held the upside-down skull in one hand, pointing to the hole in the occipital bone with the other.

Sherlock came over, smiling in approval. "Most people miss that when they look at Billy."

She grinned at him. "You named the skull after you?"

"I never went by Billy, I've been Sherlock since I was three. No, he's named after my uni roommate."

"Ah." She put Billy back then looked at the shadow box next to him. "Nice bat, man."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Really? That's the best you can do?"

Molly smirked back. "On such short notice, yes. I'll have something better the next time I'm here."

Sherlock found himself feeling stupidly happy that she'd be back but kept it off his face. He lead her into the kitchen, which was currently cleared of experiments. He just prayed she didn't look in the fridge.

Of course, the first thing she did was look in the fridge. Holding the door open with one hand, she turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "Why are there handcuffs in the crisper?"

"I didn't have any place else to put them?"

Molly laughed then closed the fridge door and came over to him, smiling a bit. "After what you've told me, I'd expect to find handcuffs in the bedroom, not the refrigerator."

Sherlock felt his cheeks redden again. Molly took the opportunity to wrap her arms around his waist.

"You know, Sherlock, whatever you are or aren't into, it's okay with me," she said softly. "You don't have anything to be ashamed of."

He wrapped his arms around her, smiling weakly. "Thank you, Molly, I appreciate that, but the handcuffs aren't for sex, they're for restraining a criminal until the police come."

"So why are they in the fridge?"

"I must have put them there once when I was high." He had already told her about his past drug use and had sworn to her that those days were behind him.

"And you haven't moved them because…?"

He smiled a bit. "At least if they're in the fridge, I always know where they are."

Molly just laughed. He then showed her the bathroom and she told him she envied the size of his bathtub. Sherlock hesitated before opening the last door.

Neither of us are ready to take that step yet, he thought. I just need to keep reminding myself of that. He opened the door to his bedroom.

Molly walked in without hesitation. "Ooo, a sleigh bed! That's it, I'm moving in."

Sherlock chuckled, the tension leaving him. "I'm glad you approve."

She went straight to his closet and started going through his clothes. Sherlock came over when he heard her gasp. She turned to him, holding up his aubergine dress shirt by the hanger.

"Fair warning, Sherlock," Molly said, smirking. "If you ever wear this one around me, I'm going to jump you."

Inside his head, his brain screeched to a halt as he stared at her, blinking.

Molly smiled a bit. "So, that's what John meant by 'buffering.'" She put the shirt back.

Sherlock soon recovered enough to grab her by her upper arms and pull her to him, capturing her lips with his in a desperate kiss. He felt like the king of the world when she started to kiss him back, but when she started unbuttoning his shirt, he broke the kiss and gently stilled her hands with his own.

"Not yet," he murmured breathlessly. "There's still so much for us to learn about each other."

"Sherlock…" she whispered, "I don't know how much longer I can last. Do you have any idea how sexy you are?"

He laughed weakly. "This isn't easy for me, either, Molly. Any attraction I've felt for others in the past pales in comparison to my desire for you. I'd take you to bed right now but I know that would be rushing things. I want to take my time with you. You're worth it."

She gazed up at him, blinking away tears, then smiled weakly. "I think we'd better leave the bedroom."

"Excellent idea," Sherlock said. He smiled a bit. "Netflix and chill again?"

"Perfect."

It was Saturday a week later that Molly suggested that they go on a double-date with the Watsons to her favorite pub. Sherlock dithered until Molly pointed out that this was a chance for her to show off her handsome boyfriend. That earned her a blush and his acquiescence.

The four of them were seated at a table and still on their first pints when an angry voice spoke up.

"This is the guy you dumped me for, Molly? I thought you had better taste than that."

Bloody hell… She took a deep breath then turned around to face her ex-boyfriend. "It's funny, Tom – my taste greatly improved after I dumped you."

"I'm the one who dumped you, and dumped my coffee on you." His snickering told her he'd already had multiple pints.

Sherlock got up and faced him, his body as taut as a violin string. "I suggest you leave, Tom."

"I'll leave when I bloody well want to. Neither you nor that bitch-" Tom fell to the floor, a hand to his now bloody nose.

"Sherlock, that's enough," John said firmly as he and Mary got up. "Leave him and let's go." Mary laid down enough money to cover their drinks.

"He's right," Molly said gently. "Tom's not worth exerting all that energy." She put her arm around his waist and he put his arm around her shoulders as they started to walk out of the bar.

"I hope she puts out more for you than she did for me," Tom called out from his position on the floor.

"Excuse me a moment," Molly said sweetly. She let Sherlock go then walked back to Tom and punched him squarely in the mouth. "Maybe that'll teach you to keep it shut."

When they were outside, Sherlock turned to her, grinning. "Have I told you how fantastic you are?"

"No," she replied, grinning just as wide.

He wrapped his arms around her. "Or how amazing you are?"

She wrapped her arms around him. "Still no."

He lowered his head to murmur in her ear, "Or how much I love you?"

"No," she murmured back, "but I'm sure it's as much as I love you."