Yep, I've been knee deep in Sherlock stories for awhile now so this bunny hopped my way. Quite honestly, I'm nervous about this, y'all. I want to get Sherlock right so if this isn't working for you, I hope you let me know (in a constructive non-trolly way, of course). Thank you to doctorg for taking a look at it for me.

As always, these aren't my characters, I don't make money of this, etc., etc. Thank you to ArianaNavid for the wonderful cover art.

Here we go. :)

~oOo~

Looking back, Molly Hooper could pinpoint the exact moment her life went spectacularly to hell. It wasn't when she spilled lunch down the front of her laboratory smock or when her boss, Mike Stamford, informed her that budget cuts would mean she would be forced to work extra shifts to cover the loss of St. Bart's part time pathology staff (she was always at the lab anyway).

No, her day entered the stuff of nightmares when she pulled back the sheet covering her next autopsy and was greeted by the words I Love U Molly Hooper carved into the dead man's chest.

~oOo~

"Flowers."

Sherlock Holmes' deep baritone voice reverberated through the laboratory. Molly shouldn't have been surprised at his presence since his latest case had kept him in the facility every day for a week. Today, however, her distraction coupled by his sudden appearance upon her return from dinner caused her to gasp in surprise. She took a breath to calm herself before stepping forward to place the patient files on her workstation. It had been three months since Sherlock Holmes' resurrection (so dubbed by the press) and while he'd resumed his day to day routine as a Consulting Detective without regard to the repercussions of his two year absence, Molly Hooper hadn't been so lucky. The tabloids and newspapers were obsessed with Sherlock's story and developed all manner of wild theories into the orchestration of his 'death.'

Kitty Riley, the reporter who'd so staunchly defended Richard Brook was utterly humiliated that she'd been so thoroughly deceived by Moriarty. Kitty's single minded determination to rehabilitate her reputation caused the unscrupulous reporter to focus her efforts on digging up (fabricating) as many stories as possible about Sherlock Holmes and his circle of 'co-conspirators'. More than one of those stories focused on Molly. The salacious titles and grainy photographs of the diminutive pathologist adorned the tabloids.

Doctor Hooper - The Real Mastermind Behind Sherlock Holmes?

Mild Mannered Molly or Hot to Trot Hooper?

As a result, Molly had begun to receive letters, packages and emails both lauding her brilliance and damning her devotion to Sherlock Holmes. Molly didn't have any regrets about helping Sherlock with his disappearance, but this intrusion into her private life was disconcerting and, if she were being completely honest, a little frightening.

"The flowers arrived this morning. Expensive. Imported."

Sherlock Holmes didn't bother looking up from the microscope as he commented again on the vase of flowers sitting atop Molly Hooper's desk. She clenched her teeth and breathed through her nose, a failed attempt to dismiss the seeds of anger blossoming from his casual intrusion (again) into her private life. While she still had feelings for Sherlock, the frustration at his continued indifference and insensitivity was finally taking its toll on her. He'd offered an offhanded thank you for her help in the orchestration of his disappearance. Before leaping from the hospital roof, Sherlock had told her that she counted. That declaration had made her heart soar at the idea that she might hold some place of importance, no matter how small, in his life. But since his return, the aforementioned appreciation for her had vanished. He continued to be self absorbed and rude. On occasion, she could see some effort on his part to be cordial, but those instances were few and far between. Combined with his constant inability to treat her as anything more than his laboratory assistant, she was insanely frustrated.

To complicate her already stressed life, there were the flowers. Upon the first delivery, she had been flattered and hoped that they might serve to prompt some jealousy in Sherlock. As it turned out, it didn't. Not in the least. Molly was tired of harboring a schoolgirl crush when the object of affection couldn't be bothered to even inquire about her well being. It was time to stop putting Sherlock Holmes first. Molly opened her eyes and turned back to her desk, sitting at her chair and pulling up the computer file of her latest case notes.

"Yes, Sherlock. Expensive flowers. Brilliant conclusion. Amazed you even noticed anything besides yourself."

Sherlock slowly lifted up his head, eyes narrow with concentration. Molly was upset. Stop. Correction. Frustrated. Angry. (With him? Possibly. Probably.) Tired as well - the skin under her eyes dark and the sclera tinged red from lack of sleep and overwork. Molly's jaw clenched and unclenched and her lips pursed together in an obvious attempt not to continue her sarcastic remarks.

"Not difficult to notice. This is the fourth bouquet delivered in the last month."

Molly didn't answer.

"They are from the same person, no doubt."

The click of the keyboard served as her response to Sherlock's observation.

"The appearance of the flowers concerns you but not enough for you to dispose of them or refuse their delivery. This tells me you enjoy the attention but, at the same time, you are unsettled by the idea of an anonymous admirer. Your association with Jim obviously an unpleasant reminder of your inability to properly deduce the nature of a man's intentions toward you…"

"Sherlock, stop." She interrupted, her voice raised and forceful. Molly's eyes snapped up and met Sherlock's gaze. "I am not in the mood to be deduced by you today. Please just continue with your work while I do mine." The tension in her eyes softened slightly and her forehead crinkled slightly with her next word. "Please."

Sherlock nodded his head. "I...apologize."

He turned his attention back to the slides and made a few notes on his observations. He surreptitiously watched as Molly continued typing. Fear. Her annoyance and subsequent harsh tone weren't simply due to his commentary (note for the future; pay attention to timing) regarding the flowers. Fear was at the heart of Molly's exhaustion and emotional upheaval. He'd announced his return three months prior with a press conference (Mycroft's idea) and full disclosure of the manner of his supposed death. Sherlock attempted to shield Molly from inquiries, but even the most blundering of journalists would have been able to put the pieces together regarding her involvement. Sherlock considered it unfortunate that she (John and Lestrade as well) had been subject to such invasive treatment by the press.

Molly was a good friend. The day Molly told him that she 'didn't count', Sherlock realized just how much he'd taken advantage of her feelings for him. As soon as Molly had walked out the lab, he'd mentally chastised himself for yet another failure to comprehend the intricacies of human emotion. He trusted her as much as he trusted John. She'd demonstrated her friendship and devotion to Sherlock more times than he could count and yet he'd failed to acknowledge the place of importance she held in his life.

Then he died.

During his absence, he'd found that he missed her more than he'd expected; their easy camaraderie, her consistent presence, even her fumbled attempts at flirting often made Sherlock's chest ache with longing. (Indication of affection? More than friendship? Under consideration.) For so many years he'd convinced himself that emotions would cloud his judgement. Sherlock surprised himself by finally accepting the inaccuracy of that conclusion. While tracking Moriarty's network, keeping thoughts of John, Molly, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade in the back of his mind was far from a distraction. In point of fact, those feelings helped him maintain the resolve to continue.

Molly's state of mind regarding these anonymous gifts concerned him. The flowers were obviously sent by an admirer and delivered during times when she was absent from the lab. No delivery notice, no card, and no sticker from the flower shop meant that the individual knew Sherlock would attempt to track the sender. One delivery might have been written off as a mild crush. Two bouquets indicate an attachment. Four, however, demonstrate the admirer's focused attention and, with no other accompanying information (No request for a date, no letter declaring his - her - intentions), indicate more sinister motives. Sherlock didn't like the situation in the least.

Molly finished her computer entry, pushed her chair back and stood up, stretching her back as she rose. One last autopsy and she would be done for the evening. She headed for the connecting door between the lab and the autopsy room. Once again, she was stopped by Sherlock's resounding voice.

"Is it necessary for you to complete another autopsy tonight?"

She didn't turn around, but cocked her head to the side to speak. "Yes, it is necessary. Lestrade needs the report tomorrow morning." Molly didn't wait for his reply and left the room - Sherlock's eyes followed her form as she exited.

Sherlock placed his hands in his lap and sat for a moment. His research was finished but he would wait for Molly to complete her autopsy. Walk her home and ensure her apartment was secure. Mycroft. Extra security needed to be called and his brother did, after all, owe Molly Hooper a debt for her actions to help orchestrate his death. Sherlock smiled at the thought of his brother owing the petite brunette a favor.

His smile disappeared at the sound of Molly screaming.

~oOo~

What? A cliffhanger? Me? Shocker! So, review this puppy, whydon'tcha?