Boring, boring, boring. He had just saved England once more, and now he was dying of boredom.

His brain needed something to work on, especially now that John was a happy father with very little time to spare for his best friend.

He wasn't sure how it started, but he found himself craving drugs like he had in the past. And that was – not good, as his friend used to remind him.

A distraction, he would find himself a distraction. Not drugs, something else.

He briefly toyed with the idea of showing up unannounced at his brother's place, see if he could irritate Mycroft enough to get in serious trouble. John wasn't the only one addicted to danger after all.

However, he didn't particularly relish the prospect of being sent to Eastern Europe again. For all that he liked danger, getting killed wasn't on top of his list now; nor was he keen on leaving England at all.

That only left Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, and Molly Hooper. Mary Watson would have probably been the next best thing after John, but she was out of picture for the exact same reason.

Molly. He would text Molly, see if he could get her to play detectives one more time.

Or to slap him in the face – that would do as well.

xxx

"What's wrong, Sherlock?" she asked breathlessly as soon as he let her in.

"Bored," he drawled, and noticed how her expression immediately changed.

She looked both relieved and angry now. Interesting.

"I know you don't care about this sort of things, but I actually have a job."

"Sure, fine. Go back to cutting up dead people. I'll get my fix one way or another."

"Sherlock!"

"What? Why should you care? Why would anyone care?"

The slap wasn't quite as fierce as the last time around, and he wasn't high now. He caught her hand just as it was about to hit his face, a slow smile spreading across his lips.

"You weren't like this before," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. "Dumping that moron of your fiancé has done you good."

Molly glared at him, struggling to wrestle her hand out of his grasp.

That was when he tugged at her wrist, and crashed his mouth against her own.

xxx

Much later he was staring at the periodic table poster on his bedroom wall, his arm draped carelessly around her waist.

"You can't get me into bed because you're bored," she mumbled drowsily. "You just can't."

"I don't recall you were complaining a moment ago."

"John is right, you really are a git."

He traced his finger along her forearm, memorizing the feel of her skin. "Is that why you love me?"

"I – oh, never mind."

"It was either that, or picking a fight with my dearest brother. I thought you would approve of my choice."

"Just shut up, okay?"

And just for this once, he did.