She stood in Bart's, back bent over a microscope. Something seemed off about her. Hair down, mouth painted red. Not all that unusual. She must have had a date. The difference nagged at him. What was he even doing in Bart's? He didn't remember deciding to come here. He didn't have any experiments that he could think of.

So he studied her for a moment. Her hair was tussled, her mouth breaking in a grin as she noticed him. She turned just her neck, purposefully. As though she were hiding something, her shoulders pointing away from him.

"Hello, Sherlock. What are you doing here?" Her voice wasn't its usually light-hearted tone, but deeper, breathy. He felt himself flush. He didn't answer.

She flashed another grin, amusement practically radiating off her. She finally turned towards him and he couldn't help it. His gaze dropped to a petite exposed body. She was not the woman, she did not have strong curves and sharp angles. She was softness incarnate. A gentle slope of flesh, the smooth curve of hips. A flat stomach connecting to long legs. Every bit of it exposed beneath a stark white lab coat. All breath left him at once. He forced himself to look back at her face, surprised to see her smug brown eyes staring back at him.

"A bit… a bit underdressed for lab work aren't we, Molly?"

"I don't know, you tell me." She looked down at her breasts, cupped with her hands and frowned a bit, as if studying them. "Are they really a bit small?"

"No." The answer was fast, before he had time to realize he was being played. She chuckled darkly. He couldn't move.

"What about my hips?" She brushed the coat back, revealing the pale, subtle flare. "Are they a bit narrow maybe?" He doesn't groan, but it's a close miss when she flicks long lashed up to him, eyes positively glowing with amusement.

"Of course not. Wherever did you get that idea?" He can't force himself away from her newly exposed flesh. Why was he in Bart's again?

"Might've put on a few pounds." Thin fingers run over her stomach, venturing dangerously low.

"Stop it." Those red lips quirk impishly. Not too small now are they? She moves closer, whispers in his ear.

"Sherlock, what do you think?"

He wakes up in a pool of sweat and with a rather uncomfortable condition. His mind is racing with Molly Hooper. This was a most unusual turn of events, though not entirely unexpected to be honest.

He's up and dressed in minutes, out the door and in a cab. It's a quick drive, but not too quick where he doesn't realize it's 3AM. She wouldn't be happy with his interruption. At least, not at first.

He didn't hesitate to knock on her door.

"God, Sherlock, what are you doing here?"

"Do you have your lab coat?"