Molly and Sherlock are going domestic,…Err, sorta. And what about the poor tormented Jim? Let's roll.

"Mrs. Hudson… What did she possibly think? How could she think that Molly will be safe staying here," Sherlock grumbled as he and John opened the basement room. "Look, John, the window can be penetrated easily from outside. It is the worst possible room Molly can have, so far away from…" Sherlock stopped short.

John glanced at his best man but said nothing. From what, Sherlock? So far away from you? He mentally asked. "I think Mrs. Hudson didn't think that you would expect Molly to live in your flat," John stated.

Sherlock didn't answer. He busied himself with John's bed – soon to be Molly's. What the bloody hell did I think? Sherlock began to question his sanity. He felt things he had never felt and it bothered him to no end. The sight of Molly, so reluctant and unwilling to live with him really bugged him. It made him angry and… sad?

"Sherlock," John decided to have 'the talk' with Sherlock. Right then was not the time or place for John slapping Sherlock head and screamed: You like her, damn it! Stop being so idiotic and don't make rude comments at her. But if John hoped Molly and Sherlock to live peacefully – sort of – he needed to set some rules and guidance.

"Mmm…" Sherlock answered. "The cupboard first?" he asked.

"The cupboard first," John agreed.

The two men lifted the small cupboard and carried it to Sherlock's flat. "Don't say rude comments to Molly," John said while they pushed the furniture along the hall.

"What!?" Sherlock asked.

"Don't be rude, Sherlock. You can be very sweet to Janine and Irene. Why do you always so cruel to Molly?" he asked. "You push, I'll pull," John said when they reached the stairs.

"What are you saying, John?" asked Sherlock while pushing the cupboard. "Being good to Janine was necessary because I had to make him love me. And Irene? I wasn't good to her. I beat her alright."

"Fine, fine. Just… Don't be rude, Sherlock. All Molly has done was helping you, always. Just be civilized and try to cope with her presence. I don't think she'll bother you that much. And I know that Toby is a nice cat, so don't go bullshiting about him," John said. "After all, I think Molly also wasn't so keen on living with you."

John's word stabbed Sherlock non-existent heart. "She's the one being rude, then," Sherlock replied, offended. "All I did was making sure she's safe. And she looked so grim all the time because she didn't get to go and live with Tom!"

"What the bloody hell are you saying?" John asked. "Tom was just there because I asked him to pick up Molly. You know, before I knew that you've thought a plan for Molly. And she was supposed to stay with me and Mary."

"How could you be so stupid and not cancelling on him, John? Had I late and Molly had gone with him, who know what could've happened to her?" Sherlock felt a sudden relieved. So the Dofus was there because John, not Molly, asked him. But he was mad at John for nearly ruining his plan.

"I forgot. Sorry," John apologized. The truth was he didn't forget. In fact he intentionally set that Tom picked up Molly just at the same time as Sherlock's coming. Well, it was Mary's idea, actually. And Tom was nice and helpful about it. (Yes, they devised the plan together.)

"So, you see, I think Molly was just nervous. She told me that you demanded privacy when you stayed at her place. So maybe she thought that her presence will bother you. And you know she always considers other's feeling and all and not a single bone in herself made of selfishness. And truthfully, your face and attitude screamed that you hated the possibility to live with her. How do you think she'll react, Sherlock?" John said. So, Sherlock actually bothered by the thought that Molly acted so reluctant because she actually wanted to live with Tom. That's… interesting.

"It was her fault that she misled me," Sherlock defended himself stubbornly.

"How could anyone mislead you? You're the great Sherlock Holmes," John said. "And Molly is in a fragile condition right now. You know, being hurt, scared, hunted by a dangerous psychopath and all. So be a little more… not you."

Sherlock stayed silent as they approached the flat's door. He glanced at the nervous looking Molly as he and John continued pushing the cupboard in to John's old room.

"Feeling alright, my Dear?" Mary asked.

"Yup," John answered.

"Me too," Sherlock said to none in particular – or maybe to someone in particular.

888

Molly sneaked to her new room like a scared mouse as soon as the others went home. Sherlock had a glimpsed of the limping Molly, walked hurriedly inside the room, followed by Toby, and closed the door.

Sherlock breathed contently. Now I can think in silence that Molly has retreated to her room. I don't need to listen to John's advice and play nice to her because we don't have to meet or see each other. I bet she'll stay forever inside that room and will not bother me at all. It will be like I'm living alone. And that's good. Yeah, that's great. Super! I can do anything I want as usual, don't need to consider a woman's presence or her need, because Molly won't bother me at all. That's the kind of woman she is.

Sherlock sat down and started thinking. Unfortunately the lack of sound or vital sign from inside Molly's room bothered him. He looked around his living room and suddenly felt particularly lonely. Now how could I lure her to go out of that bloody room?

Sherlock walked around relentlessly outside. Molly tried not to even move a muscle inside the room as she heard Sherlock's steps closing to her room, afraid that she might bother him with any sound at all. She sat straight up on her chair. He must be thinking hard about defeating Jim right now. "Shh, we cannot make any noise, baby," Molly whispered as Toby mewed softly. She scratched Toby's head and the cat lied comfortably on the bed.

Sherlock carefully leaned at Molly's door. What are they doing there? Don't they even breathe? Maybe I should check, just in case Molly fainted or something. It's not normal that a woman and a cat can be so silent. Oh, there he goes; Toby mews. He heard Molly uttered something to the cat. And then silence.

Sherlock moved back to his chair. He sat there for what was like hours. But in fact, it was just 15 minutes. Sherlock became unbearably impatient. What is it that makes me feel so guilty? If Molly wants to stay in her room, she can stay. If she wants to go out, she can do so. I have nothing to do with her choice to alienate herself inside a stranger's room, without so much a book to keep her company.

Yes, you do, said John's voice inside his head. She's afraid of you, Sherlock.

"Shut up, John!" Sherlock hissed in distress.

Just knock on that door, Sherlock. Talk to her, advised John's voice.

"What could I say to her?" asked Sherlock. Really, now I'm making a conversation with my own mind in John's voice? Sherlock sighed.

Sherlock decided to turn on the telly. There was an ad on kitten's food. Right! He immediately stood up.

Knock, knock! "Molly!" Sherlock called. There was no noise from behind the door. For a moment Sherlock felt hesitated. What if Molly isn't scared of me? What if John was wrong and she actually doesn't want to see me? What if my presence bothers her?

But the door was opened slowly and the unsettled Molly Hooper came out. From the way she played nervously with hem of her night gown, Sherlock realized that he must've disturbed her while she was changing her clothes. Suddenly Sherlock's heart beat a little faster and he felt his stomach fluttered. Huh? What's happening?

That's the chemical reaction of the disadvantage feeling you and your bother always talk about, again the inner John stated.

Impossible! She's wearing a bloody granma cotton lose night gown, for God's sake! Sherlock disagreed irrationally with his inner John. If it was Irene, in her sexy lingerie, sleeping peacefully on my bed… Sherlock entered his mind palace where The Woman resided, as beautiful and stunning as usual. But what is this force that made his eyes glued at the pure, uber natural face of Molly Hooper's? She looked tired. Her eyes had black bags from the lack of sleep and there were deep lines that showed stress. Yet she looked so… enigmatic. This was the woman in her most honest and purest form. She was a woman who worked hard, lived hard and yet still be happy and made others happy.

She's no Irene, true. Yet, here we are, baffled by the plain, pure form of Molly Hooper. This time it wasn't John's voice, it was his voice.

Damn!

"Do you need anything, Sherlock?" Molly asked with a solemn face.

Yes. You. Out of that outfit. Damn it! Sherlock swallowed and cleared his throat. "Where's Toby?" he asked.

Molly looked surprised with the question. She stepped back and showed the cat standing near the table, watching the two humans. "There he is," she answered.

"John said that he loves watching TV. And with my experience living with you, I can confirm that he does love watching TV. He can watch TV if he'd like. I know he's nice and won't bother me." Really, Sherlock? That's your move? Well, what the hell.

"Really?" Molly smiled very brightly. That smile swept away Sherlock's uneasiness. "He'd love that, Sherlock. Thank you." Molly turned to Toby and said, "you can go out and watch the telly with Sherlock, baby. Don't be naughty, ok?"

Toby mewed and walked happily out. Molly smiled at Sherlock once again. "I really appreciate it, Sherlock," she said.

Sherlock pondered. Good, now you tell her that she, too, can sit in the living room and get out of the dreaded room! His voice became louder.

But like a child everywhere, Sherlock did exactly the opposite of what he'd been told, even if it was his conscience that told him. "Right," he said awkwardly before turning around and left Molly.

Molly smiled and closed the door. She had never thought that Sherlock would've considered Toby's well-being. She recalled that Sherlock once had a dog when he was a kid. So maybe he had a soft spot for animals. Molly felt a little jealous with her cat.

Sherlock watched Toby watching 'the telly'. The cat seemed happy. What a lucky simple creature, he thought. Why is he so happy just by watching TV? Toby looked at Sherlock and mewed thankfully. A smile crossed Sherlock's lips. They are so alike.

The cat food ad was back on the screen and Toby mewed. He stepped closer to the TV and mewed again, as if telling Sherlock that he wanted the cat food. "John and Mary gave you that didn't they?" Sherlock asked lazily.

The room door opened very slowly. Molly came out hesitantly. She felt terrible hearing her cat mewed loudly and thought that Sherlock wouldn't like it. "Toby…" she called softly.

The cat looked at her and mewed. "I'm sorry, Sherlock," she said. She walked, limping, to the cat that refused to come to her and stayed intact in front of the TV.

Sherlock watched as Molly difficultly bent to lift Toby. She cringed. "Come on, baby, let's go back," she tried to pick up the cat. But Toby didn't want to go just yet. He wanted to watch the telly and he wanted to eat the cat food. He jumped and avoided Molly. His mewing got louder.

Molly gasped as the cat escaped from her hands. Sherlock got up from his sitting and help Molly straightened her back for he knew that she was in pain. She inhaled a deep breath to maintain her composure. "I'm really sorry, Sherlock," she looked at the man and apologized again. "He isn't usually like this."

Sherlock tried his best to look understanding, yet needed help to deal with the naughty cat. "It's fine," he smiled. Molly's heart skipped a beat looking at the man smiled at her. Sherlock's left hand was still on her back, while his right hand held Molly's arm.

Toby's mewing brought back Molly's attention. She realized that Sherlock stood very close to her. Molly stepped backward a little, didn't want to invade Sherlock's very important personal space, even though the detective himself who got close to her to help her.

Sherlock reluctantly let go of Molly, suddenly disappointed by the loss of touch. Molly looked at Toby, confused at the behavior of her cat. "I think he's hungry," Sherlock said.

"I put his cookies inside the room and he knew it. He usually knows where to look for his food," explained Molly.

"Well, I think he wants the new cat food. He started mewing when he watched a cat food ad. I think Mary and John fed him with that and he liked it better," Sherlock offered an explanation.

Molly looked at her cat and smiled sweetly, as if he were an adorable naughty child. Sherlock felt a little jealous to her cat. "I see," she said.

"Let's go and get him some," said Sherlock.

"Oh," Molly was surprised. "Umm, you want to go groceries shopping with us?" she asked.

"Yes. I guess you'll need some items yourself. And we can grab dinner afterwards," Sherlock said, smiling.

His enthusiasm surprised Molly. Is it really happening? Will I really go groceries shopping with Sherlock Holmes? Her heart beat so fast that she was scared Sherlock could hear. Molly shyly nodded. Somehow her anxiety and nervousness lessened by Sherlock's concern about Toby.

Thanks, baby, Molly thought. Maybe with Toby around both of them can focus on the cat and tried to live peacefully.

"Maybe you want to change your clothes again?" Sherlock asked, still smiling.

Molly looked at herself and blushed because Sherlock saw her in her night gown. But she shook her feeling and told herself that Sherlock couldn't have cared less even if she'd been naked. No-not that she thought about Sherlock looking at her naked. Molly's blush deepened. But she forced herself to look at Sherlock like nothing happened and nodded. "Yes. I'll be right back," she said.

"Don't rush," Sherlock said. "You must not over exert yourself. I'll be waiting."

Molly felt like it was the morning on Christmas day, the Christmases when her parents were still around, not the Christmases when she was lonely. They went to the nearby department store and Sherlock was very nice and offered to push the trolley. They walked through the supermarket alleys in comfortable silence. Once or twice Sherlock asked if she would like a particular cheese or milk. Molly would smile and told him which one she preferred and Sherlock would put the product into the trolley. Toby was behaving nicely inside his house and only mewing loudly when they reached the cat food alley. Sherlock insisted on paying for the groceries and Molly thanked him sincerely.

Then they stopped by a small diner on the neighborhood to grab a bite. "I can cook dinner if you'd like," Molly said.

"Don't you want to have dinner outside?" asked Sherlock. "It is the place I planned on taking you. You know, after we solved crime together the other day."

"Oh, ok," Molly said smiling. Her heart warmed recalling that day. It was a wonderful day, the day that was dedicated by Sherlock for her.

Why the hell did I bring the topic about that day? Sherlock cursed himself. But he watched in awe as Molly's face lit up like there she was a candle lit by him. Sherlock shamelessly wondered on how she would react if he pulled her and kissed her. And then he cursed himself even more.

888

Molly, do you think I will let you to go on and be happy with Sherlock Holmes? Molly read a dreadful text in her phone as she woke up in the morning. And all the happiness she felt about last night evaporated.

I think Tom should be given more credit.