AN: Yeeaaaah, I don't even know. It's been a draft for ages and I just needed to finish something this weekend. Well, I hope you all enjoy this humorous, romantic fluff! :)

And there went another one.

Molly watched forlornly as her date ran out the door of the restaurant, nearly knocking down a couple trying to enter.

'Well, that's a shame,' Sherlock lamented insincerely as he propped his feet on the ex-date's chair and picked up a menu, burying his aristocratic nose inside it. 'Shall we order?'

Fury like nothing else Molly had ever known welled up inside her. Without a second thought, she picked up her nearly full wine glass and tossed the drink in his smug face.

As he sputtered and wiped his face, she stormed out of the restaurant, ignoring the shocked faces of their other patrons. She rushed down the street as fast as she could, but knew that Sherlock would not be far behind.

She hurried across the intersection just as the indicator turned and hoped she had bought enough time to make it to the tube station before he caught up.

'Honestly, Molly Hooper, that was rather childish.'

Damn his long legs.

'Leave me alone, Sherlock,' she snapped. 'There was nothing wrong with him and you know it. You always do this, you always show up just when things are going well, and make it all go to pot.'

Sherlock scoffed, dabbing the remainder of the wine from his face and chucking the handkerchief in a bin as they passed it. 'Considering you are a friend and colleague of mine, I would be most… concerned if something were to happen to you because you chose a poor suitor. I need to ascertain that these men would be worthy of you...' He cleared his throat. 'Your time, that is.'

Molly came to a dead stop and Sherlock doubled back when he realised she was no longer beside him. 'Listen up, you overbearing, controlling git!'

His eyes went wide and he took a step back as she crowded him and jabbed her finger into the center of his chest. 'You don't get to decide who I date. If I want to go out and date, kiss, or bloody shag the next man that comes along, I bloody well will!'

A passing gentleman slowed down at hearing their argument and his brows rose in surprise. Molly and Sherlock turned to him and he looked at Molly with a leering smile

'Bugger off!' They shouted in unison.

The man's smile dropped and he scurried off in disappointment.

'And furthermore,' Molly rounded on him once more, her finger finding its place painfully deep in his chest. 'I have had enough of your overbearing, third wheeling, monstrous antics on my dates! I don't how you're finding out when or where or with whom they are, but if you show up one more time, I'll-mmpff!'

Her righteous tirade was cut short when, unable to get a word in edgewise, aggravated and having lost the one smidgen of patience he'd managed to maintain for the last few months, Sherlock grabbed her face and covered her mouth with his. Molly's eyes went wide in shock and her arms windmilled. His kiss was half frustration, half passion and she struggled to pry his hands off her.

But then, oh but then, his passion took over completely. The kiss turned from something awkward and hard to tender and loving and her fury melted away. She closed her eyes and sunk into the kiss until her knees buckled. Her arms wound around his neck and she dragged her fingers through the curls she had dreamed of for so long. By the time he pulled away to let them breathe, the only thing holding her up was his arms, secure around her waist.

Breathing heavily, Sherlock looked down at her and the depth of emotion in his eyes stole what little breath she had left. 'Apologies, but you just weren't taking a hint.'

She swallowed and tried to focus on her thoughts and not the phantom feeling of his lips, the way his arms wrapped around her perfectly and protectively.

'You weren't exactly being overt, Sherlock,' she managed to say.

'I ran off seven men. I should think my intentions were obvious.'

Molly rolled her eyes fondly. 'Next time, try saying 'Molly, I do believe I like with you. Would you care to have dinner with me?'' She dropped her voice to mimic his deep, posh baritone.

'Next time?!' He asked incredulously. 'There won't be a next ti-mmpff!'

Molly smiled against his lips, happy to shut him up the same way he did her. Something told her she would be doing that quite a bit in years to come.

She relished the look of dazed adoration on his face as she pulled back. 'So,' she drew out the word. 'Is there something you wanted to ask me?'

Smiling almost secretively, he asked, finally, 'Molly Hooper, I am utterly, wholly and completely in love with you. Would you do me the honor of having dinner with me, today and every day for the rest of our lives?'

Her eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise. She searched his face for any sign of deception, but could find none. Her heart filled to overflowing and she nodded, her voice thick with emotion. 'Yes, I would like that. I would like that very much.'

'I know just the place, then.' He grinned and stepped away. She felt the empty loss of his embrace, but then he held out his hand.

She tucked her small hand in his large one. 'Oh yeah? And where might that be?'

He tugged her close to his side and winked. '221B Baker Street.'