Hey guys! This is my first Sherlock fanfic. I really love the relationship between Watson and Sherlock (who doesn't) so I tried to get a bit of their banter in towards the end. I also like the fact Molly fancies Sherlock and I thought I'd play on that and give Molly a helping hand whilst (I hope) still keeping some of Sherlock's awkwardness and hatred to be lovely :)

Please review and tell me what you thought! Critisism also welcome :) Apologies if there are any typo's. It's currently 12.53AM and I'm shattered so any typo's are down to me! This will be staying as a oneshot, but I hope to write some more oneshots soon!

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Sherlock. I wish I owned Mr Holmes himself, but I'm afraid Doyle and the BBC are the lucky ones!

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ONESHOT

B O Y S & G I R L S

As he left the hospital that night, Sherlock realised he hadn't seen daylight that day. He'd awoken at five that morning with a sudden thought about a recent mystery which he'd been picking like a bleeding scab, and made his way to the hospital post-haste. It was 10PM when he left, his phone brimming with missed calls and text messages from John which he'd ignored, partly because he was far too busy working, and partly because he could be bothered to get up and walk across the room to fetch his phone from his coat. Thus, Sherlock could deduce (not too strenuously) that the neglect of his phone would mean he would have a very pissed off Doctor Watson to greet him upon his return home.

"Let joy be unconfined." He muttered to himself at the thought as he stepped out into London street, turning his collar up so as to protect himself against the bitter chill of the wind, his eyes scouring the busy road for a cab. In the distance his eyes happened upon the small orange beacon of a taxi, his bowed lips curving into a content smile to himself.

"You forgot something." A small voice piped up from behind him, a hand tapping him lightly on the back. Holmes spun on his heel, his coat billowing around him like a vampire's cape as he found himself face to face with Molly Hooper who was holding his pair of leather gloves up proudly on display.

"I didn't want you catching a cold." She added, a child-like smile splitting her face. Taking the gloves from her, Sherlock made a mental note that a taxi had just sped past.

1 Taxi.

"Which delightful young man are you meeting, Molly?" he asked simply his voice laced with an edge of sarcasm. He instantly regretted enticing her into more conversation when he really did want to get in a cab and go home. Molly looked up at him, her big eyes and soppy smile peeking from between a sandwich of a matching woolly scarf and hat.

"Why'd you ask?" she asked, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip.

"You've mixed your perfumes. You're wearing a different one than you wearing when I saw you earlier." Another taxi careered past.

2 Taxis.

"Yeah I…" she sighed and shook her head in what Sherlock decided was awe, "I've never known a man be able to distinguish perfumes before."

"I didn't." He informed her simply, leaving it hanging for a second. Sighing, he realised he'd have to explain. "I don't know the difference between perfumes but I do happen to have a nose about my face." He stopped, aware even for a sociopath that that might have seemed a little horrid. Especially as she was looking at him as though she were some glossy eyed puppy dog. He gave her what he hoped looked like a suave and natural smile however he was aware it was most probably a painful looking wince-smile.

3 Taxi's.

Agitated, but trying to take a smidgen of Watson's advice and be slightly friendly, he pulled his coat around his body slightly and continued.

"You were wearing a very strong scent earlier, most probably because you want to at least try to mask the scent of death that you encounter everyday at work. That obviously wears off during the day and usually you wouldn't notice that the perfume has gone because you're too busy working and because you wouldn't normally carry a bottle of perfume in your bag with you to top up. However today something's different. You wore the same strong perfume this morning, that's worn off but you've put a new, more flowery perfume on. Now why would you have remembered to bring another perfume with you? And why would it be so girly and feminine? Easy answer, you're meeting someone. You've got a date." He inhaled to catch his breath. He also shrugged as though the whole process was as simple as breathing.

"That all?" Molly's mouth was pinched shut, wavering as though she wanted to burst into another large smile. She looked as though she was biting the inside of her gums to stop herself smiling. Sherlock wouldn't have been surprised. Another black cab zoomed past.

4 Taxi's.

"I said you were meeting a man. That was a stab in the dark. I assume it is a man, because...well do you really want me to launch into another tirade, it is very cold and I for one would like to go home… "

"I'm not meeting anybody." She informed him, looking a bit disappointed that she had to rain on his parade, but a hint of smugness apparent in her expression.

"What?" In all his years, Sherlock had never been wrong. And if he was, he soon found a way to correct it. Being wrong to him was humiliating and thus he strived to never, ever, ever be wrong. All desire for a taxi went out of the window, a fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth taxi went past and he shook his head.

"You're not meeting anybody? At all?" It wasn't the fact he cared whether she was meeting someone or not, it was the fact he'd got something wrong that was pissing him off. But Molly, being Molly, saw Sherlock taking an interest in her love life. And that filled her with hope.

"Well not exactly." She smiled, trying to reassure him, "More like I was hoping to bump into somebody."

"Wait." He held his leather-clad hand up to her rather rudely and rubbed the bridge of his nose, the little pieces of the jigsaw not quite slotting together in his head, "The perfume…why else..."

"I just told you." She nudged him, "You were nearly there with your guesswork. I wanted to just…bump into someone."

"It's not guesswork and "nearly there" isn't quite good enough. I was wrong."
"That's your problem you know, Sherlock!" Molly laughed incredulously, her hands slapping down by her sides, "You're always too busy trying to work out the bigger picture, digging too deep, that you miss what's right in front of you!"

9 Taxis.

10 Taxi's.

"What?" his eyes were squinting as though he was reading the words coming out of her mouth and trying to make sense of them all. When it came to simplicity he was practically dyslexic.

"Sherlock." She was smiling again. Surprise, surprise. "Do I really have to spell it out to you?"

The blank look on his face nodded towards the affirmative. Molly reached up and touched his face, his expression freezing under her palm as he felt himself stop breathing for a moment in what he assumed was fright. Surely a girl couldn't scare him.

"I put perfume on because I wanted to bump into you." She shook her head and blinked slowly, her hand still resting on his cheek, "All those brains and all the clever deducing you do and you couldn't even see that."

He went to answer her but she already had her mouth on his before he could get the words out. He felt in danger of leading her on and in honesty the sensation of her mouth on his wasn't amazing to him.

But the phrase "in for a penny, in for a pound" came to his mind, and he thought if they were going to kiss he was going to make it worth it. After all, he'd always been a good actor.

Molly didn't expect him to use tongues, but after a second she felt him fight to include his in the kiss. His hands pushed inside her coat and he held her waist, pushing her back away from the road to a small alcove beside the hospital which was out of the view of the main road. She ran a hand through his hair and, being new to this whole kissing girls malarkey, Sherlock mirrored her, his hands accidentally tearing her hat from her head. Her dishevelled hair whipped in the wind but she didn't seem to notice. He could taste both her perfumes and they had begun to cling to his throat. To his surprise this timid girl then plucked his hands from her waist and slid them down the arch of her back to rest on her bottom. Sherlock opened his eyes and finished with a small squeeze of her bum (which he couldn't honestly say he enjoyed), pulling away from her mouth, both their lips still frozen in a pout. Molly looked back at him mouth ajar in confusion and began to steady her breathing.

"Goodnight Molly." Sherlock smiled, wiping the lipstick from his mouth, spinning on his heel before she could emit yet another smile. "Taxi!"

"Where on earth have you been all day? I was this far away from sending out a search party." John stormed from his bedroom upstairs and stood arms folded in the living room as Sherlock entered the flat. "Do you ever look at your phone? I must've text you eighty times and called you about a hundred."

"Ten texts and eleven missed calls, actually. Let's not lie."

"Don't piss me about, Sherlock." John snapped, "Where have you been?"

"The hospital. And no, not accident and emergency." Sherlock answered, pouring himself a drink, "Who are you, my mother?"

"I thought you'd been kidnapped or something."
"The only defect with that is that I'd have to be a kid."
"Wh—no you don't." John stopped, confused, "Shut up."

"I do hope you used some protection." Sherlock announced bluntly, shaking his head in disappointment.

"I was bloody – wait, what did you just say?"

"With that girl. What's her name…"

"Sarah." John barked. "I'm not even going to bother asking how you might have known…"
"Oh so you did? I actually didn't know, but that double bluff seemed to work a treat." Sherlock let out a loud laugh.

John almost kicked himself at allowing Sherlock to outsmart him like that.

"I'm going to bed, Sherlock. Good night."

"I kissed Molly Hooper tonight." Sherlock said simply, admiring the suddenness in which John Watson stopped in the doorway.

"You what?"

"On the mouth. With tongues. Hands all over." He did not say it in a bragging fashion. Actually quite the opposite. Just in a matter-of-factly way as though he were telling him how he'd diced a carrot earlier that day.

"You're joking, aren't you?" John smiled, "I thought she hated you."

"Oh no, quite the opposite it would seem."

"You going to...you know. With her?"

"What?"

"Sherlock do I have to spell everything like that out to you?" John sighed and rubbed his head.

"Well if you do…you know. Keep it in the bedroom please. Good night."

"Oh John, before you go, do you really think I'm into double bluffs?"

John looked around, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Next time you have a naked Sarah in your bed, close the door when you come out of the bedroom. When I came in I looked up the stairs and saw more to that poor woman than I felt necessary." He finished his drink and smiled, "Goodnight John."

I hope that all made sense! The ending isn't brilliant, but it's an ending! I was far more into writing the kiss bit haha! Anyways hope you enjoyed my first attempt at a Sherlock fic :) Thank you very much for taking the time to read it :)

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