So recently my computer had a little meltdown and for a while I thought I'd lost everything. EVERYTHING! And let me just tell you, I have a frighting amount of unfinished stories on it. Well, needless to say, my loving and gallant husband came to my rescue. He did some sort of magic trick and saved all of my documents then got me a new operating system. Once it was back up and running I started going back and looking at my unfinished fics. I found this one which was basically done, just needed edited. So here you go. Big thanks to MizJoely for beting it for me.

It's a 2 shot!

I own nothing. Enjoy. ~Lil~

Chapter 1: The Party

It was a trick of the lights, it had to be. Nothing else explained why Molly Hooper looked so... beautiful.

NO! No, Sherlock Holmes didn't use words like beautiful. It simply didn't happen. But every time he looked across the room at the pathologist, poetic descriptors kept popping around her face.

Stunning...

Exuberant...

Radiant...

Simply fucking Lovely!

Why? Was he drunk? He'd only had one scotch. He looked down at the drink in his hands. Okay, half of a scotch. Had he been drugged? He cataloged his symptoms. Racing pulse, slightly elevated temperature - which could be attributed to the amount of people in the pub. Why did she insist on having a birthday party at a pub? She's a grown woman, for God's sake! Back to my symptoms. Laboured breathing, dry mouth... Oh yes, definitely drugged. It was the only possibility, because if not... that meant... Nope! Not even considering the other option.

He suddenly felt a friendly hand patting his back. "Enjoyin' the view?" the voice of DI Lestrade asked.

"There's not much to look at, Grayson. No crimes, so far." He took a large drink. "But one can hope. And judging by the neighbourhood, it can be expected."

Greg moved to stand closer to the consulting detective and said, "I was talking about our birthday girl. You were staring." Then he chuckled.

Sherlock glared at the older man considering all the ways he could kill him at the moment. "I wasn't, actually. Why on earth would I be staring at Molly Hooper, of all people?"

Lestrade turned and looked at the petite woman across the room, who was laughing and talking to a group of nurses and a couple of Yarders. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because she looks bloody spectacular in that sexy little dress and heels."

As Lestrade licked his lips, still staring at Molly, Sherlock thought about slamming his head into the pillar that was only about a foot away. "Mallory couldn't make it this evening, I see."

Greg turned to Sherlock. "You remember my wife's name?"

"Yes, you should remember that you have one. Perhaps this marriage will last a bit longer than your previous ill-fated union. Although, if you continue to ogle my pathologist, I can guarantee, you'll suffer yet another divorce."

Greg laughed so loudly several patrons turned and looked at the pair. Finally he collected himself. "It's not me you should be worried about, Sherlock. It's Patrick." He pointed toward the group gathered around Molly. Sherlock instantly zeroed in on a ginger haired young officer to her left. He had one hand on her back and was whispering in her ear.

"What makes you think I'm worried about Molly's love life? I was trying to save you..."

"Come off it!" Greg interrupted. "You're jealous."

Sherlock froze. He felt himself flush as he stared at the DI in total disbelief. He had only just... no, he wouldn't even allow his mind consider the possibility that he found Molly Hooper... attractive. He quickly schooled himself. "Leave the deductions to me, Gavin," Sherlock said as he stalked off to find John Watson, and hopefully some decent conversation.

He did find John. He found him chatting with his wife and Mike Stamford.

"Ah, there you are. Where've you been?" John asked.

"Being annoyed by Lestrade. How much longer do I have to stay?" Sherlock asked, hoping he'd put in enough time at the excruciating event.

Mary spoke up. "Oh for God's sake, Sherlock. You've only been here thirty minutes. Have you even spoken to Molly yet?"

"Is that a requirement?"

John, Mary and Mike groaned in unison.

"Did you get her a gift like I told you to?" John asked.

"I'm not an idiot, John. Of course I did. I renewed her subscription to Pathology Monthly."

John narrowed his eyes and nodded his head. "She saves your life and you order her a medical journal?"

"No, I renewed her current subscription. Are you having trouble with your hearing? It is quite loud in here."

"His point, you poor clueless child," Mary said, stepping closer and gripping his shoulders. "Is that, perhaps Molly would like something a bit more personal... from you." She ended with a wink.

What the hell? Were they handing out MDNA at the door? What is wrong with everyone tonight? "No, she wouldn't! She won't expect anything from me! So getting a subscription to an important periodical will impress her. Trust me!"

Mary released him, shaking her head, then picked up her drink. "Mike, want to take a stab?"

Mike sighed and smiled at Sherlock. "Listen, I think what everyone's trying to say is that Molly's quite fond of you, Sherlock."

The detective laughed. "That's putting it mildly."

The other three exchanged uncomfortable glances.

"Riiight... so wouldn't tonight have been a nice time to, ah," He paused and thought for a moment. "Show her how you feel?"

"Oh, for God's sake! You too?" Sherlock shouted, causing half the pub to turn and look.

Mary put a hand on his arm. "Calm down Sherlock. Don't get your deductions in a bunch. We all know. We think it's great. But if you don't do something soon, she'll be off the market." She motioned to the group surrounding the small woman. "I heard that Patrick..."

"I know all about the ginger," Sherlock interrupted, jerking out of Mary's hold. "And furthermore, I don't care!"

Mary got a very smug look on her face. "Protesting a bit too much. Might want to dial that back just a touch."

Sherlock turned with every intention of leaving these people and their inane assumptions. However, he ran right into the Birthday Girl herself.

"Oof!" she said, her arms coming up to hold onto Sherlock's jacket to keep her balance.

Sherlock automatically grabbed her around the waist to steady her. "Molly. Are you okay?"

She giggled. "I was just coming to ask you the same thing." She released his lapels, but he didn't let go of her. "I heard you shouting. I know you hate parties." She leaned in slightly. "You don't have to stay, you know." She smiled sweetly. "It was kind of you to come at all."

She started to step back, but Sherlock pulled her closer. He could feel her tiny waist through the sexy little dress she was wearing. She was warm, so very warm and smelled of cherry blossoms and vanilla. "I wanted to come." Oh, was that his resolve breaking...

"Ah, well I'm glad." Her hands landed back onto his chest, after hovering for a moment. "Thank you."

Sherlock nodded, not really sure how to respond, mostly because it was a lie, wasn't it? John had practically forced him to come... didn't he? No, no he didn't. I did want to come. I wanted to see Molly. Wanted to see her outside of Barts... outside of the lab and the morgue... out of that damn lab coat. OH... of course... He suddenly felt like he should tell her... something. How beautiful she looked. How flattering her dress was. How lovely her hair smelled. However...

"Are you going out with that ginger police officer?" was what came out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry?"

"Patrick, everyone keeps telling me that he's... that he fancies you." His suddenly dry mouth felt like it was failing him. "Are you going out with him?"

"Um, I don't know. If he asks... I suppose..." Her hands dropped to her sides as she looked down.

Sherlock knew he should release her, let her go back to her party. She was clearly uncomfortable, he could read it in her body language. But his arms wouldn't allow it. "Don't."

She looked back up. "Don't... what?"

"Don't go out with him."

"Why, what's wrong with him?" she asked, looking up at him with those impossibly large eyes.

He knew it had to be the lights, because it was impossible to actually see one's own reflection in someone's eyes. But for a split second he thought he caught himself in Molly Hooper's. It was enough to push his already over-stimulated mind, over the edge. He's not me, he thought. He heard the gasp escape Molly's mouth, which told him he'd actually spoken the words aloud. But it all seemed so surreal. As did the feeling of him lowering down and capturing her lips in his. Then suddenly everything felt very much real. He felt Molly whimper. He felt her hands sliding up his chest. He felt both of her hands gripping his hair. That's when he deepened the kiss, nipping at her lower lip. Not small, not the least bit small. He slid his tongue into her warm, welcoming mouth, finding hers instantly. She tasted of cranberry juice and a hint of alcohol. After a few moments of the utter delight that was Molly Hooper's mouth, they had to break in order to breathe. He'd never found breathing more boring than at that very moment.

Sherlock pulled back, taking a good look at the woman in his arms. Her eyes were still closed, her cheeks flushed, she was licking her lips. Once again, he knew he needed to say something... oh damn, where did John go? What should I say? Mind palace, I'll use my mind palace- Wait, I've got nothing on romantic sentiment stored, well, except what I used to manipulate Janine... that won't do.

While Sherlock was freaking out, Molly had opened her eyes and was staring up at him. "Sh-Sherlock?"

Hearing Molly speak only increased Sherlock's anxiety, so he said the first thing that came to his mind. "I got you a horrible gift."

Molly furrowed her brow. "Oh, was it that kiss, because that was lovely."

"It was?" Sherlock said with a smile.

"Well, I-I thought it was," she said.

It finally occurred to Sherlock that they were still in an embrace. "Oh yes, of course it was. I found it... pleasant." Or more like magnificent. Why didn't I say that?

Molly nodded and slowly backed away from him, looking around the room. This time he removed his hands from her hips. "Well, like I said, thanks for coming." She bit her lip, clearly waiting for him to respond.

Oh bugger, now what? he thought. He needed to get her to stay until he could figure out how to talk to her. "Molly, um, my gift. Ah, I got you..." Then he had an idea. Of course he had an idea, he's brilliant, how had he ever doubted himself? "I'd like to take you to dinner. Anywhere you want to go." He gave her a bright grin.

"Well... that's nice. That's not a horrible gift, why would you think that's horrible?"

"Oh, well... J-John! He thought I should have it all planned out." He rolled his eyes. "But since it's your birthday, I thought you should choose."

She smiled and looked at her hands. "Can't you just deduce where I'd want to go?"

He moved closer once again so he could whisper in her ear. "I could, but I was hoping you'd surprise me Molly Hooper. You are one of the few in this world with the ability to do so."

She bit her lip again as she nodded.

"Shall we?" he asked.

"I can't leave, Sherlock. This is my birthday party."

They both looked up and noticed that everyone was still grouped off, casting them furtive glances.

"Yes, it's your party, Molly. You can do whatever you like," Sherlock said hoping he could persuade her to leave.

Molly looked round the room. "Well... I suppose..."

Mary Watson who was standing closest to the pair, carefully listening to their conversation, casually wandered over. "Hey you two. Might consider taking that somewhere more private." She gave Sherlock another wink.

He bristled. "Yes, I was just suggesting..."

She turned to Molly. "So, I think this is sort of winding down. John and I need to get back to the sitter and I heard some of the others talking about heading home. We can grab your gifts for you since we have our car, if you like."

Molly looked at Sherlock then back to Mary and nodded. "Thanks, I'd appreciate that, Mary."

Mary gave them both a knowing smile, then hugged Molly. Sherlock was certain she whispered something in the pathologist's ear, judging by the shade of red Molly turned as Mary released her. But he didn't have time to worry about that... it was just starting to set in that he had asked Molly Hooper out on a... date.

A DATE!

Hope you liked it. Chapter 2 should be up soon. Let me know what you think, please! Thank you so much for reading. ~Lil~