I really wanted to write a new Sherlock/Molly fic, and here it is. Set during A Scandal in Belgravia because, let's face it, that episode was just a 90 minute porno. I've never really attempted a multi-chapter fic before, so be kind. My attention span only ever reaches to a one or two shot. I have a sort of idea where it's going, but you know, I'm always open to suggestions about things. I tried to keep it moderately in character as well but, you know, I'm not the mighty Moffat or the Godly Gatiss.

BEWARE: RATING WILL CHANGE TO M BECAUSE OF SEXYTIMES LATER. (For now it's nice and clean).

This way for jealousy, Irene Adler, a love triangle and Sherlolly.

Reviews welcome with open arms.

Many thanks x

P R O L O G U E

We all do silly things.

She hated herself for it, but his presence rendered her useless. All those years of being smart, medical school, doctorates and being the top of her game were suddenly vanquished to nothing whenever he was nearby. It was if whenever she was in a room with him her faculties went on an excursion and left her mouth in charge of proceedings. Today was a typical example. There he was inspecting some woman's phone. A woman she knew he'd been seeing a lot of. Deep down she knew there was more to this woman than another one of Sherlock's cases.

"Is she your girlfriend?" Big mistake. She knew full well Sherlock didn't have girlfriends; in all her years knowing the man she'd never seen him cast as much as an inquisitive eye on a woman unless he thought she held the key to solving a puzzle.

"You think she's my girlfriend because I'm x-raying her possessions?" He looked confused by her stupidity, not quite tearing his eyes away from his work. Molly died inside a little bit. She didn't know quite what to make of it. She had partially come to terms with the fact Sherlock Holmes was one day going to find a woman, or man, he loved, and she'd accepted that that woman was never going to be her. On her darkest days Molly contemplated whether Sherlock had found this soul mate in John Watson. She shrugged off the thought. At that moment, paralysed by the man sitting before her she thought back at all the boyfriends she'd ever had. Minimal, admittedly, a couple of months the longest. She thought of all the things she did for these boyfriends. She'd pick them up from stations when they went on dates, or buy them a cup of coffee if they'd bought her one beforehand. Nothing special. Then she thought of all the things she'd done for Sherlock Holmes. Come to Barts at five in the morning because he needed her access to the morgue, work extra hours just to help him solve a new case, cancel dates so he could have access to the laboratory. She'd even paid a fortune for a gift for him for Christmas just to have him humiliate her in front of her closest friends. Stupid Molly. Suddenly she realised she needed to speak.

"We all do silly things."

All the love for reading. More soon.