Sherlock and Molly. Post series 3. I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters.

Molly looked over at Sherlock's body, lying motionless across the table at Bart's hospital. His eyes were closed and he took small controlled breaths, hands pressed together under his nose. He had been in this position, unmoving, for close to an hour. Molly, who had watched him for about 20 minutes before giving up, was now fluttering around the lab, cleaning beakers and organizing slides. She had more important work to do in the morgue but since Moriarty's return Sherlock had been a right mess and she didn't want to leave him alone when he was being so unpredictable. Suddenly, his eyes flew open and he sat up swinging his legs over the edge of the counter and jumping to his feet in one fluid motion. Molly turned; startled by his abrupt change in position, "sherlo-" she started.

"It doesn't make sense!" Sherlock roared, interrupting her. "I've explored eighteen possibilities as to how Moriarty has returned but none of them make sense! I'm missing something… Obviously he faked his suicide. He was never willing to kill himself; he just needed me to think that to ensure that I would jump. But why?" Sherlock slapped the counter in agitation. "Scenario one, his gun was actually loaded with..."

Molly watched as Sherlock spewed out deductions in a manner more robotic than human. His voice, the deep melodic baritone she loved, was devoid of emotion with the exception of a sarcastic or condescending remark here and there, though his eyes shone with excitement. Even in his frustration she could see that he was entertained by the return of his so called 'arch nemesis'. His brilliant mind had been sparked and he thrived off the energy that came from this new puzzle. Sherlock was pacing around the room in a bit of a frenzy, continuing to speak to no one in particular.

"... Which is why he couldn't have used a personal double because then his shoes wouldn't have been polished." He spun around to face Molly grabbing her shoulders violently, "what am I missing?" he demanded. His nose was just inches from Molly's and he glared into her eyes angrily, his irritation making him more forceful. The look of surprise and fear across Molly's face jolted him from his trance and he released her, turning and walking out the door without another word. Molly stood frozen in shock as he walked briskly away, coat flapping behind him. She wasn't really scared of him but he had given her quite the start and on top of that his proximity had made her thoughts a little dazed. Molly remained unmoving, standing awkwardly in the middle of the lab, trying to remember how to move her limbs when the door of the lab opened. Sherlock's head peeked around the door, "well are you coming or not?" he said pointedly before turning around and walking back down the hall, his dark curls disappearing around a corner. This was enough to shake Molly from her stupor and she rushed down the hallway after him. She finally caught up and they walked through the hospital in silence. Molly wasn't quite sure where they were going but she knew better than to ask, instead she took the time to observe Sherlock. He looked proper as always and he wore dark pants and a blazer paired with a light purple shirt. His coat, as perusal, had the collar popped in such a way that accented his sharp features and Molly had to remind herself that Sherlock would notice if she stared at him any longer. She just wished he would stop walking so fast and stand close to her again. As if reading her mind, Sherlock froze mid-step and pivoted on his heels, turning abruptly to face her. Molly had to stop and walk back to where he was standing, panic colouring her cheeks as she tried to remember if she had accidentally said anything about her daydreams aloud.

"Fancy some chips" he asked, in a way that sounded more like a statement then a question.

Molly stared back at him blankly, "well, um... I... um..." was all she managed to say.

"Come on Molly, it wasn't a difficult question. Are you hungry?" Sherlock asked again. His tone was impatient but there was kindness in his eyes. He waited for her answer expectantly, biting his lips as he tried to feign patience.

"Well I already ate," Molly said, " but if you wanted I guess we could..."

"Oh good" Sherlock replied, interrupting her yet again. "John said I have to remember that other people need to eat more often but I don't need food until at least tomorrow, when apparently I'm suppose to meet John and Mary for lunch. Molly was about to reply, but Sherlock didn't give her the chance. Pausing for only a fraction of a second he continued to ramble, the air of distance growing in his eyes as he gazed off into something only he could see. "I don't understand why. Just a formality really. They're going to ask me if they can stay at Baker Street while Moriarty is still a threat because Mary is concerned about the baby. They're both feeling very awkward about asking me, been avoiding it all week. Not sure... Something about boundaries or sentiment... I don't know, but really who cares. Anyway, yes forget lunch then, we have work to do". Molly listened patiently to Sherlock's irrelevant tangent, his voice rising with excitement and an erratic gleam forming in his eyes. The consulting detective was without a doubt the most amazing human being she had ever met but sometimes he was so entirely socially awkward and she wasn't sure if that humanized him or made him more alien. Molly resisted the urge to roll her eyes, as her internal thoughts chided her. Of course he didn't actually want to have lunch with you silly girl… but he was trying to be nice, that must count for something.

I hope you guys like it so far. I've already started writing the next section. Please, if you have any comments on my writing style or the portrayal of the characters or the plot let me know! I appreciate the feedback.