I was sent this lovely message on tumblr by lokisherkhantimelord221b

'I love to read your fan fics on Archive Of Our Own and was wondering if you could do one where Sherlock got kicked out of his flat from Mrs. Hudson because of his rent and he decides to stay at Molly's until the rent is payed. I'll leave it up 2 you!'

Once I read this I couldn't get the idea out of my head and knew that I had to write. Hence my writing for my 'Facial' fic got put on hold (oops) until I got this idea out of my brain. Anyway, I basically sat myself in front of my computer and just let my brain loose. This is what came of it and I hope that lokisherkhantimelord221b likes what I wrote, as well as my other lovely readers. Of course I originally intended this to be a simple one-shot, but when it hit over 9,000 words I decided to split it into parts. I'm going to post it all in one go though. Oh yeah, and there will be smut. Of course there will eventually be smut, I can't seem to write anything anymore without throwing some smut in there :-P

Feel free to comment on each individual chapter … or wait until the end! Do whichever you so desire! But please, do let me know what you think :D

Anyway, HAPPY READING!

Part One: Lack of Communication

As Molly stepped into her flat she let out a loud sigh, instantly taking note of the Belstaff and blue scarf hanging on her coat hook. After removing her own coat and scarf she proceeded further into her flat.

Sherlock was sat upon her sofa, his suit jacket draped across the nearby chair. He was stroking Toby's back, the cat purring happily. Neither the feline nor Sherlock raised their heads to acknowledge her entrance.

"Mrs. Hudson took my skull." Sherlock offered as explanation.

"Late on the rent again?"

Sherlock let out a very loud sniff, "It's not my fault that the cases I've been taking don't pay well." He still hadn't looked up at Molly, keeping his eyes focused on the cat.

Molly crossed her arms over her chest, "Actually it sort of is. I'm certain your inbox is bursting with cases that would pay well! But noooo you keep picking only threes or fours. What's gotten into you lately? This is the third time this year that Mrs. Hudson has kicked you out! You used to only take a case if it was an eight or nine! Possibly a seven!"

Sherlock gave an unconvincing shrug, "I only took those cases because I had John with me, and now he's too busy with his offspring! And I do appreciate you accompanying me, but more often than not an eight or a nine is dangerous and I ... dontlikeputtingyouinharmsway."

The last seven words came out in a rush. Molly was used to this though, and caught on to every word. Biting back a smile she strode over to him, cupped the sides of his face in her hands and tilted him back so that she could place a kiss upon his forehead. His eyes at last met hers.

"Where would you go, if you didn't have me?" She asked him.

He moved his hands to her hips, "But I do have you."

Molly exhaled loudly through her nose, shaking her head as she stepped out of his hold and moved towards the kitchen, "You're lucky you do." She muttered beneath her breath.

"Haven't I told you that I know that I am?" He called after her.

She shook her head again as she began to putter about the kitchen to make tea. When she felt his arm slip around her waist, pulling her close up against him, she leaned back into his embrace. He buried his face into the curve of her neck.

It had taken her a little while to get used to the fact that he seemed to enjoy touching her and holding her. She had never thought of him as being a physical person, but when he was alone, with just her, it was almost as if he couldn't keep his hands off of her. In the most non-sexual way possible that is. It just appeared to be that he craved a connection; a proof that she was there, with him, and for him.

His deep baritone broke through the rampage of her thoughts, "This problem would be easily solved if you would just agree to move into Baker Street with me."

She could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest against her back and the puffs of breath against her neck as he spoke.

"No Sherlock. I've already told you multiple times, no."

"Why? I don't understand. And I don't like not understanding." He all but growled against her.

She nudged him slightly in order for him to loosen his hold on her, so that she could turn about and face him. An expression of annoyance, disappointment, and confusion was what met her.

"I'm not going to move in to Baker Street just to become a replacement for John. That's originally why you had him move in with you, wasn't it, so that you could afford the rent? I know Mrs. Hudson loves you, and that she looks upon you as the son she's never had, but she can't give you the flat for free. She needs money just like everyone else does. I'm not moving in with you just so that you can continue to afford to live there."

Molly stepped away from him once more. Sherlock stood, dumbfounded. When she returned to him, after retrieving two cups for their tea, she noticed that he had his 'buffering' face on. Rolling her eyes she set the cups down and picked up the kettle before it whistled. Once the tea was steeping she turned back around to look at Sherlock. He still hadn't moved, nor had he blinked. She was tempted to slap him out of it, but thought better of it, instead deciding on pinching his bicep.

"OW!"

He blinked rapidly several times, before glaring at her as he rubbed the spot. She smiled innocently at him before moving over to their tea. He took the offered cup and followed her back to the sofa, still glowering. Toby had removed himself and was now sprawled out upon the floor.

Sherlock had yet to touch his tea, instead only holding it on top of his knee, "You honestly believe that I only want you to move to Baker Street to become a replacement for John?"

Molly took a slow sip before setting the cup down onto the coffee table, "Yes. And no." She folded her hands in her lap.

He tilted his head to the side, "Molly, you need to be a bit more descriptive, you know that I can't deduce you as easily as I can everyone else. I either get it completely wrong or I can't read you at all. Please tell me what your reason is."

Now she was the one not meeting his gaze. She worried her bottom lip, staring down at her hands, "I'm not moving in with you just so that I can help in paying the rent. I like my own flat, I like living here. And my lease isn't ending any time soon anyway."

He pouted around the rim of his cup as he took a sip, "But think about all of the advantages that living at Baker Street would bring! You'd be closer to Bart's for one, giving you more time to sleep in, and my bed is far more comfortable."

"Why would I be sleeping in your bed?"

He peered at her over the edge of his cup, stopping mid-sip, "Why wouldn't you? We sleep in the same bed here, why wouldn't we continue to do so there?"

Molly gaped at him then shook her head, "I'm going to go take a shower. I'm tired and my brain is clearly not working properly." She stood up and strode towards the bathroom, leaving behind her half-drunk tea.

Sherlock sighed wearily, staring down into the depths of his cup. He didn't move from the sofa until she had finished showering and was dressed and lying in bed. He got up and walked into the bedroom.

Her glasses were placed precariously upon her nose. She pushed them back, and snuggled further down into her pillow, a novel open and settled against her stomach. He eyed her for a moment then grabbed his pyjamas and went into the bathroom, shutting the door closed behind him.

When he returned to the bedroom her book was on her nightstand, her glasses on top, and the lamp switched off. She was curled up facing away from him. He could tell by her breathing that she had yet to fall asleep.

"Molly?"

"Mmm."

He sat down upon the bed, lifting up the duvet and sheet before sliding himself beneath them, "Will you go to Baker Street for me tomorrow?" He laid his head down against the pillow.

"Whatever for?" She still had her back to him.

"There are some things that I need."

He heard her let out a slow sigh.

"Fine, I'll go after my shift."

"Good. You know of course that I can't. The last time that I tried to, Mrs. Hudson threatened to call mummy."

Molly let out a snort, "Yes, I do recall you telling me that. I don't think Mrs. Hudson will mind letting me in."

"No, I don't think she will at all."

"Goodnight, Sherlock."

"Goodnight, Molly."