Jim sat at his desk, staring blankly at the computer screen. This IT shit was so beneath him, but it really didn't matter. He wasn't interested in it. What did matter was getting close to Sherlock Holmes. And being inside Bart's was the way to do it.

The door to his office creaked open unexpectedly, and he looked up. A sweet-looking woman stood in the doorway shyly, trying to decide if she should come in. Jim met her doe-brown eyes, and his usually-menacing expression softened. Something about this mousy woman struck him. She was more than what she appeared, and he knew it.

"Did you need something?" he asked her as she stood frozen in the doorway.

She looked up from gazing nervously at the floor. "Isn't this Mr. Norton's office?"

"No, he's down the hall. But maybe I can help you. What do you need, Miss?"

She looked away from him for a moment, feeling intimidated. "I…I don't know. Can you come look at the computer in the pathology office? It's not working."

He grinned, a grin that sent a chill down Molly's spine. It was beautiful and menacing, just like him. "Lead the way, Miss."

Having him behind her made her terribly uncomfortable. She wrapped her lab coat around her tightly, some subtle way of putting up a barrier between them.

"So what's your name?" he asked her to break the tense silence.

"Molly. Dr. Molly Hooper." She bit her lip and immediately regretted telling him her last name.

"Pleased to meet you, Dr. Molly Hooper. I'm Jim," he told her cordially, not giving his last name.

But as he walked next to her, she started to relax. His presence wasn't quite as terrifying as it had been at first. She looked into his brown eyes for barely a second and found something she never expected. There was a beauty and a warmth in him that hadn't been there when he sat in his office. Even his dark grin had softened into something she felt safe around. The elevator ride down to the pathology lab wasn't nearly as excruciating as she imagined it would be.

It took him nearly 45 minutes to fix the computer, mostly because he kept getting distracted by Molly when he thought she wasn't looking. Something about her made him want to break all his own rules. Even though it was the last thing on his mind when he started work at Bart's, he fully intended to pursue his interest in her.

"Hey, Molly, I'm done. Your computer is all better."

"Thanks, Jim!" she replied brightly.

"So, I have these two tickets to a play Saturday night. But I've got no one to go with. If you're not working, we should go together."

Molly bit her lip and looked at her shoes so Jim wouldn't see her blush. He wasn't Sherlock, but he was awfully endearing now that she'd had a chance to talk to him. And since she didn't imagine Sherlock ever being interested in her, she decided to give Jim a chance.

"Sure, Jim. That sounds lovely."

Jim smiled. "I'll pick you up at your flat Saturday at 5:00. We can have dinner first."

She wrote down her address before they parted ways. Jim had an uncharacteristic smile on his face for the rest of the day, and Molly was light of heart. It was a feeling she thought she'd forgotten since Sherlock Holmes entered her life.

Right at 5:00, Jim knocked on the door to Molly's flat. He was nicely dressed in a suit but not his best suit. That would have been too much for a first date. Though he did have two dozen crimson roses hidden behind his back. He loved extravagance, and he wasn't afraid to flaunt it.

Molly slipped into a pair of black pumps as she heard the knock on the door. One more quick glance in the mirror, a final fluff of her hair, and she opened the door. Jim greeted her with an almost-chilling smirk. His manic excitement was bleeding through the facade he had to maintain throughout the evening.

"You look beautiful, Molly," he told her, pulling his hand from behind his back and giving her the roses.

"Thank you, Jim. These are wonderful. Let me put them in some water, then we can go,"

"May I come in?" he asked in a voice so smooth that Molly nearly dropped her roses.

"Of course," she murmured weakly.

He smirked and entered her house. It was clean and plain, bright and airy, just the way he expected it to be. She went into the kitchen to fill a clear crystal vase with water, and Jim leaned against the counter, letting his impatience show. But he didn't make a biting remark about her pace and just waited. He didn't want to fluster her or upset her by telling her she wasn't moving fast enough.

"Okay, I'm ready,"

He took her hand and led her to a gorgeous fiery red sports car. She looked at it in awe as he opened the door for her. He caught a glimpse of her expression as she slid in, and it made him feel smug and more than a bit pleased.

"I made reservations at a new Italian restaurant," he remarked, pulling away from the curb.

She looked at him incredulously for a brief moment. "I've heard it was impossible to get into. How did you get reservations?"

"I, um, know someone," he replied, not completely lying. He did know someone, the owners. He had done a small favor on their behalf when it looked like the restaurant wouldn't get the necessary permits to open.

"Well, that's good," she smiled.

Once the car was getting valet parked, they walked into a dimly-lit restaurant decorated in cherry wood, dark colors, and rich, heavy fabrics. Jim nodded at someone, not thinking Molly would notice. She did, but she decided not to comment.

They were approached by a stoic, silver-haired man in a black tuxedo. "James, mio fratello, you have finally decided to come visit me. And you've brought such a lovely woman."

Jim watched as he kissed Molly's hand, a fierce possessiveness washing over him. He wanted to pull her into his arms, claim her as his to anyone looking. But she was back at his side before he could make a move. She slipped her hand into his as if she could sense his anger and wanted to soothe him.

They got led to a table in a private and dark corner of the restaurant. They couldn't see anyone, and no one could see them. It was exactly the way Jim wanted it. He moved the dripping candle to the side of the table so he could look at Molly. She looked like a different person in the glow of candlelight. It suited her soft beauty.

"Would you like some wine or champagne?" he whispered, looking over the wine list.

She pondered for a moment. "Well, I suppose one glass couldn't hurt."

"I was thinking of getting a bottle."

"If you'd like a bottle, that's fine."

He looked over the list again, eyeing the most expensive bottle of red. It would go a long way towards impressing her, so it was completely worth it. She had gotten quiet, though, and he feared that he had been showing off too much.

"Molly, what's wrong, babe?" he asked her with an uncharacteristic gentleness.

She bit down on her lip. "Nothing. This is just overwhelming. I've never been someplace this nice before. And to be in at a private table. It's a lot to take in. And I wonder who you know that got you this." She was being blunt with him, and she was terrified.

He smiled just a bit, sensing her fear. "Don't worry. I just wanted to make this special."

"You did do that. I don't think I'll ever forget this."

He took her hand. "Then I know I did my job well."

She smiled at him and turned her eyes back to the menu, shocked at the price of a simple plate of pasta. She worried that maybe Jim wasn't going to be able to afford the meal, then she remembered his sports car and designer suit and wondered how he could afford those as well. He was more than a mystery to her.

On the other hand, he understood her very well. He could decipher people as well as his rival. Molly was a book, laid open before him. Her whole life was spread out on her face for him to read. Those sweet brown eyes told her life's story before she could even blink. She had a good heart. Jim began to wonder if she was the balance to his high-stakes lifestyle.

Out of nervousness, she ordered a light, inexpensive chicken dish. He unabashedly ordered an expensive steak, not shy about flaunting his money. But he was polite enough not to say so outright. He didn't even tell her to order anything she pleased, though he figured that with the bottle of wine, it was implied.

Jim did, however, insist on getting after dinner drinks and dessert. Molly ordered a chocolate martini and a cannoli, and Jim got a gin martini and a piece of cheesecake. The conversation grew more lighthearted once they had their sweets. Jim had a dark sense of humor that surprised Molly. She found it easier to laugh once he had relaxed enough to be funny.

"We have a play to see, Miss Hooper," he told her, rising from his chair to help her up once he had settled the tab. And she got up. "It's probably chilly out, dear. Please take my jacket," he offered, shrugging his suit jacket off and placing it around her shoulders.

She slipped her arms into his jacket. "Thank you, Jim," she replied with a warm smile.

He reached for her hand, which was mostly covered by the sleeve of his jacket. But he wanted to feel her hand in his. They walked to the curb where his car was waiting for them, gleaming like fire in the moonlight.

"I have an idea, Molly. Forget the play, let's go take a walk by the Thames," Jim suggested, feeling playful. The idea of sitting in silence for over two hours didn't appeal to him. Not when he had the opportunity to talk with Molly.

She smiled a bit. "I don't see why not. But what about the tickets?"

He shrugged and handed them to an old man walking by. "Not my problem anymore."

She actually laughed again. He had such a strange sense of humor. It was endearing. "I guess that does free us up for that walk."

He looked over at her as he drove, a bit of a smile lingering at the corner of his lips. "This is much more fun than a stuffy play. We don't have to worry about bothering anyone if we talk."

She nodded. "And it's a nice night out," she remarked as he lowered the convertible top.

The breeze blew a lock of her hair in her face, and Jim reached over to brush it away. She actually giggled, and he smiled at her.

In that moment, he realized that this shy, mousy woman was actually someone who was more amazing than he ever would have imagined. She had transformed his attitude in a few short hours. He never would have tolerated a giggling woman until he heard the sound from her. And he didn't even know that she knew Sherlock. All of this was because Molly was the most incredible woman he'd ever met.

But he wouldn't allow himself fall in love with her. That just wasn't him. He didn't let anything get in the way of his work. Dating a woman couldn't hurt, though. She never needed to know who he really was.

"Do your feet hurt, Molly?" he asked, noticing she had slowed down as they passed the London Eye.

She laughed. "If I had known we were going to be walking, I'd have worn some more sensible shoes."

He smiled, thinking of how he could make the rest of their walk easier on her. "I could carry you," he offered, being serious.

"You'd get tired. I'll be okay."

They walked for a while, deciding not to go for a spin in the giant Ferris wheel. Molly was too scared of heights and didn't want Jim to see her frightened just yet. He took her home around 11:00 after he noticed that she had tried to hide a yawn. She was tired but didn't want the night to end.

On her doorstep, they lingered, letting their good night last. He had debated the decision to kiss her. Finally, just as she was turning to open her door, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with everything he had. Once she had gotten past the shock, she placed her hands on his arms and kissed him back.

A moment later, he let go of her but then took her hand, placing a final, soft kiss on her wrist. "Good night, Molly Hooper. I shall see you around the hospital."