So, it's been a year since I posted my first ever story, Frozen, and what an amazing year it has been, I can hardly believe it. If you had asked me before then if I could write I would have laughed and said no. The last time I'd written anything fictional was at school which was a long, long time ago.

So as a celebration of the last twelve months I thought I would backtrack a little and explore how Sherlock and Molly got to that house, in Frozen, in the first place and what happened after. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 1 - Before

Sherlock's mind was racing. He had been working on the Stuart case for over a week now and just couldn't seem to find the threads, the clues that would tie it all together for him. It didn't help that John had abandoned him little over a month ago due to Mary having the baby. He needed someone, anyone to bounce his ideas off; the skull just wasn't the same anymore. He'd got too used to a real live human being.

He racked his mind thinking through his limited list of acquaintances before coming back to the one name he'd been trying to avoid; Molly Hooper.

If he had been honest with himself he knew why he was avoiding asking her but he was rarely that honest not when it came to his own feelings. He told himself she was too busy (lie), too weak (wrong), too emotional (true but irrelevant). In the end with a huff he picked up his phone and sent the text.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly was just finishing up at work when her phone pinged. She dried her hands and picked it up before a smile spread across her face.

Need your help. Come to Baker St. SH

This had been happening more and more often over the last month, ever since John and Mary had had their daughter. Molly knew he was missing his friend and only using her as a stop gap but, who was she kidding, she just liked spending time with him, enjoying some companionship. She'd been lonely herself since her break up with Tom late last year and it was fun having somewhere else to be rather than just being at home with only Toby for company.

She texted back.

OK, shall I pick up some food on the way? Thai or Pizza? Mx

It didn't take long for him to reply.

In the middle of a case, food is irrelevant. SH

Molly rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, 'for you maybe.'

A second ping had her chuckling at his inconsistency.

Thai. SH

It was seven o'clock and already fully dark by the time she got to Baker St. It was one of the coldest February's on record and it felt it. Molly was still shivering as she made her way up the stairs although his flat was a welcome, warm oasis thanks to the fire burning merrily in the hearth.

She found Sherlock lying on the settee, his hands under his chin, obviously in his famous mind palace. He made no acknowledgement of her presence so she just got on with the task of plating up the food. It wasn't the first time she had found him like this and she was getting quite used to knowing where everything was in his flat.

Eventually she sat down at the table tucking into her food. It had been a long day at work and she'd only had time for a quick sandwich at lunch so she was starving now. It didn't take too long however for Sherlock to 'come round' and join her.

He was wearing his normal black trousers and white shirt combo covered with his blue dressing gown, it billowed a little as he walked over and Molly knew she was blushing from the images it conjured in her head.

As he sat down and started to eat she asked him how the case was going.

'There's something I'm missing Molly...I've been over and over it, the murderer must have either had a plan that I haven't thought of yet or he was on the CCTV and we haven't spotted him. And the weapon, as you know from the autopsy it's a slim blade, he must have left it somewhere, hidden it. It would have been covered in blood and not easy to carry around. Lestrade says they've searched but I don't trust them to have been very thorough. If I could only narrow it down.'

Molly listened to his theories offering some suggestions of her own. Most he scoffed at and quickly disregarded but she didn't take any of his remarks to heart, not anymore. She knew he didn't mean anything by it, it was just the way he was when he was caught up in a case.

She ended up sitting curled up on the couch, watching him pacing back and forth his hands gesticulating as he spoke. She liked how comfortable she felt with him nowadays, most of her nervousness around him had evaporated after she'd slapped him for taking drugs the year before. He seemed to have a new found respect for her as well.

She loved just listening to him speak, he had a lovely baritone voice that just seemed to rumble through her at times. As he talked she found herself yawning and listening less and less to the actual words just letting his voice wash over her.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

About midnight Sherlock came out of his mind palace to find Molly fast asleep on his settee. He remembered going through his theories with her and then entering his mind palace but he couldn't quite recall how long ago that was.

He spent a few moments observing her as she slept. He had to admit he preferred it when she was here, in Baker Street, with him. He knew he needed to examine his...feelings for Molly but since he'd been released from his exile at Christmas he'd been ignoring them. It was as he had been flying away from England with his mind filled with thoughts of Molly and regrets over everything he had and hadn't done with her that he had realised she was so much more to him than just a friend and just his pathologist.

When he'd landed he'd initially been determined to change things with her but as time had gone on and he'd been caught up in the hunt for the originator of those Moriarty videos his initial zeal had faded, he'd started to doubt himself, to fear how a relationship could taint him, affecting his focus. But at moments like these where they had happily spent time together, when she had helped him with a case he felt a fresh longing for her.

He watched her breathing as she slept, slow and steady, her eyes closed, a slight blush across her cheeks. Without knowing quite how he got there he found himself on his knees in front of her, brushing a lock of hair off her face; his thumb grazing across her jaw. He found himself licking his lips, watching hers wondering how they would feel against his own. Would they be as soft as they looked? Molly stirred and he pulled back reaching instead for a throw which he placed gently over her.

Maybe when this case was finished he should say something to her, she was starting to become more of a distraction apart from him than she would be with him. He pondered whether he should wake her or not, before deciding to let her sleep. He had more work to do in his mind palace anyway.

About six the next morning he woke briefly hearing Molly leaving the flat. As she did he felt strangely bereft as though the place was somehow too empty now but he soon fell back to sleep.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The next day he got his first break. He'd spent the morning at Scotland Yard going through the CCTV footage again and then pouring over the maps of the area. It was then he started to see a possible solution. At the back of the murder scene, two residential streets away was a National Trust property. A quick Google check had shown Sherlock that it had been open at the time of the murder and would have been a perfect escape route for the murderer. It was big enough that the killer would have been able to hide both himself and the murder weapon.

Of course, the murderer would be long gone by now having been able to mingle with the crowds and eventually move on but what if he'd secreted the weapon there. It was unlikely to have been left in any of the main rooms open to the public but on checking the floor plans for the property there were a number of rooms on the upper floor of the East Wing that were closed to the public due to disrepair.

He barked at one of the police officers to fetch him a coffee and then rolled his eyes with impatience when the officer looked to Lestrade who just nodded before turning to Sherlock, 'What is it? Have you got something for me?'

'Maybe, I want to take a look at something myself first though, I can't trust your clod hoppers not to overlook something, or worse, destroy the evidence inadvertently.'

Lestrade sighed heavily, 'bloody hell Sherlock, you're not supposed to go all maverick on me. I get in enough trouble involving you in these cases as it is. Just...please tell me whatever it is it's not illegal.'

Sherlock stood up with a flourish and smiled widely at the detective, 'I'd best not say anything at all then. Goodbye, I'll be in touch.' With that he swept out of the room just as the young officer returned with his coffee.

Greg reached out and took it instead, 'I think I'd better have that, I just wish it were something stronger. God help me he'll be the death of me he will.'

Sherlock texted John as he left Scotland Yard.

Need your help with a job tonight. SH

After an hour there was no reply so he sent a second text and then a third before he huffed and dialled John's number.

A bleary voice answered, 'Sherlock, what is it and keep it short Elizabeth's down for a nap and this is the first sleep I've had in 24 hours.'

Sherlock frowned, 'why on earth haven't you slept?'

'Because we have a newborn in the house and she's suffering from colic. Truth be told it's a bit of a nightmare, none of the treatments are making a difference. Mary's exhausted, we're just not getting enough sleep. Not that you're interested in any of this are you?'

'No, not really. I have a job tonight, how do you feel about sight-seeing in a Stately home?' Sherlock already suspected he knew what John's answer would be but felt it was worth a try. He had to admit to being a little disconcerted however when John just hung up on him. He hadn't been that insensitive had he? He'd listened to John's problems and hadn't cut him off or interrupted him.

He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, he needed an assistant. The image of Molly asleep on his settee came unbidden to his mind. He could do this couldn't he...remain professional and not let sentiment get in the way, just for a bit longer. Maybe she could tell him why John was so rude.

He thought through all his other options but in the end it was no good, call it needing an assistant or just plain wanting to see her he picked up his phone and texted her.

So that's how the story begins. I'll post part two on Friday and the final part on Sunday. Please let me know what you think.