"You went to tea with Mycroft."

Molly looked up from her book. Sherlock stood in his bathrobe, holding an acetylene torch in one hand, rubber gloves in the other.

"Yes I did, what of it?" Curled up on Sherlock's couch, she hadn't given much thought to her tea with Mycroft, other than that it was very nice. Sherlock was working on an experiment, and it was giving him trouble. When that happened, Molly often would come to Baker street as he needed someone to talk at, to work the problem out. Also it gave Doctor Watson a break from the consulting detective's rattling on.

"Well..." Sherlock shifted, looking uncomfortable.

"We're going again in a week," she said, opening her book up again. "Well, he's taking me to tea that is, yesterday I just made it in my office. He thought we ought to go somewhere nicer next time."

"I could take you to tea, if you like tea," he blurted out.

Slowly, Molly looked at him, smiling. "That's nice of you, Sherlock. I know you're busy though. You don't have to."

"Yes. Well...you're..." he fiddled with the switch on the torch. "He's not the only friend you have..." he glanced up at her, nervous. "Is he?"

"Certainly not!" she laughed. "You're my friend too, Sherlock."

"Oh." his face fell somewhat.

"Course I feel differently about you than I do your brother." Molly added.

"Oh?" Sherlock wasn't certain of how he felt about that. She might mean...well...she might care for Mycroft more, and it made his stomach twist at the thought.

"Yes, well, I don't want to get into his knickers," Molly went on with a laugh.

Sherlock blinked, lowering his arms to his sides. He seemed to be buffering, trying to wrap his head around what she'd just said.

"You remember that?" she asked, still giggling. "That was the first thing I said to you, when we first met."

Oh he remembered.

"Yeah, yes, obviously," he coughed, flustered. "You also said something about my bottom."

"Good old Molly," she laughed, a little red in the face. "It's nice of you not to throw it in my face, what I said. I'm sorry if I'd behaved rather like a silly school-girl when we first met."

"You were dazzled, obviously," Sherlock replied, somewhat smug.

"Good thing I know you better now though, hmm?"

He whirled around, looking quite surprised (and a bit insulted). "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I know your personality, don't I?" she asked. "It's not just the face that I like so much. I don't make it a big secret that I like you, Sherlock. I'd be an idiot if I tried to hide it. I'd be a bigger idiot if I liked you just for your face, or ignored your...rather glaring faults just on account of your pretty face."

His insulted expression seemed to grow. He set down the torch and gloves, hands on hips now.

"Don't be so sour," Molly chastised him. "I'm saying I like you for you, that's a compliment."

"Oh." he looked somewhat relieved. "Well then I ought to say the same of you."

"What?" She looked surprised.

"You must be joking," Sherlock was genuinely aghast. "Oh don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You're a blooming English rose. Inspector Lestrade has to wipe the drool off his chin when he sees you coming. To say nothing of the sheer brilliance of your work. And I rather like your breasts."

Her mouth formed a perfect 'o', unable to say one word.

"Oh I said that last bit out loud didn't I?" he asked, noting her expression.

Wordlessly, she nodded.

"Hm. Well. It's true." he sniffed. "I suppose tea is rather out of the question."

Again, she nodded, getting to her feet. "Dinner, however," she at last said. "That's another matter entirely."

"We could have dinner here," he offered, taking a step closer, and she followed suit.

"Here?"

"Mm." he glanced over her shoulder, towards the hallway to his room. "Or...over there..."

"Over..." she looked to where he was directing his gaze. "Oh! Yes. Dinner would be lovely, over there. To celebrate."

"Hm. Yes...celebrate what?"

"We'll think of something."

He nodded and closed the distance between them, kissing her at last. She responded in kind before tugging him down the hall. He scooped her up in his arms, stepping into his room and booting the door shut behind him.

Happy anniversary indeed!