So, I assume (if I'm reading correctly) that part two would be appreciated... I really planned on leaving it with Molly's 'heart' wanting to say yes but leaving it a bit up in the air. But MizJoely is our leader and is far wiser than me. I'm so glad listened to her and asked for everyone's opinion on this one. I can only hope that I managed a decent follow-up. Once again BIG thanks to Miz for her betaing help, also to MrsMCrief for some Brit bits. I'm taking the rating up to T for some saucy language and... such.

I own nothing except any mistakes you might find. Enjoy ~Lil~

Plans! Sherlock thought. Why did I have to be so bloody noble about this whole thing? I should have asked for an answer then and there. Should have pressured her. This bloody waiting business is worse than going to the theater with Mummy or jumper shopping with John. What's that quote about the best laid plans...? Sherlock wondered as he lay on the settee in his lounge. Was it Percy Shelley? No-no, it's Scottish not English … Who the hell was it? He thought for a few moments trying to pull up the, frankly useless. information, when it suddenly hit him. "Burns!" he shouted just as Mrs. Hudson walked into the flat.

"Good Lord!" she said, one hand clutching her chest. "Give an old woman a heart attack, why don't you?"

He jumped to his feet and started pacing. "You are in excellent cardiovascular health, Mrs. Hudson. I'm sure you're fine. But If you're worried, perhaps you should practice caution when barging into your tenant's flats unannounced."

The older woman tutted. "I only have one tenant and was hardly barging in, Sherlock, the door was wide open." She sat down in John' chair, releasing a heavy breath. "So what's this about burns? An arson case?"

"No, not burns, Burns- the poet!" He paced to the mantle out of pure habit looking for the pack of Benson & Hedges. Of course it wasn't there. With a sigh he moved restlessly to the window and looked down on Baker Street below. "How hard can it possibly be? Every hapless idiot on the planet seems to be able to do it." He turned to his landlady and added, "Even you."

"What are you going on about? And since when have you taken an interest in poetry?" she asked.

"Maybe I'm more romantic than you know, Mrs. Hudson." He looked at the table next to him. "Don't you usually come with tea?"

She just laughed as she stood up and approached him. "Not today, my dear boy. I'm off to visit Mr. Pfeiffer." She patted his arm and kissed his cheek (once he lowered his head, since he knew what was coming.) "I just wanted to check on you before I left."

He rolled his eyes, though he secretly loved the attention. "I'm a fully grown man, I think I'll be okay while you go off trolling care homes."

"Oh stop it you!" she said with a giggle as she walked out the door.

Mrs. Hudson's exit meant he was back to torturing himself over Molly's decision (or lack thereof). It had been two days since his conversation with the pathologist and he wasn't sure how much longer he could wait. He was having the hardest time keeping still. He'd thought of a hundred reasons to visit Barts, but he knew he shouldn't. He had said that he would be patient, but patience wasn't one of his better qualities. She hadn't called or sent a text, and he had no idea what she was thinking. When he left the lab two days prior, he felt pretty confident, but then again he always felt confident. He wasn't used to feeling vulnerable and exposed. It had taken him weeks to work out his plan, then he carefully crafted exactly what he wanted to say. Although he really had decided on most of it during his stay in England's finest one star hotel for the criminally intelligent. Molly Hooper had kept him sane for most of those six days; her image, her room in his mind palace. But in the end he simply couldn't face it. The thought of all that he had lost, all that he'd never have… it finally broke him.

Sherlock shook himself out of the extremely unpleasant and unhealthy memories and went to the kitchen to make tea since his housekeeper had slacked off for the day. The water had just started boiling when he hear her… he knew those footsteps.

It was the strangest thing, he'd never experienced that kind of instant nerves in his entire life. He suddenly had a very clear understanding of the term 'butterflies in my stomach'. Taking the kettle off the hob, he turned to find Molly standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

She smiled. "Hi."

"I was making tea," he said in lieu of a proper greeting. He mentally kicked himself.

"That's nice. I'll take a cup."

"Of course. I'll bring it right in. Go, sit and, ah… yes, I won't be long." He stared at her as she walked into the sitting room, memorising her as she moved. She was wearing a skirt, was that a good sign? Her hair was loose, not up in its customary pony tail. Bloody bumbling moron, he thought as he worked on their tea. What the hell is wrong with me? Then he took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves.

He handed Molly her mug and sat down across from her; she'd chosen John's chair rather than the settee. For some reason Sherlock didn't think that this was a good sign. He couldn't help but read into everything that was happening, from her choice of footwear to her posture. There were clues to be found and he'd find them.

She placed the hot beverage on the table next to the chair and then reached into her hand bag. "So, um, I did what you said. I've been thinking about, well, everything. And…" She unfolded the piece of paper. "I've made a sort of list."

Molly Hooper and her lists. Her desk was perpetually covered in small slips of paper; lists of all sorts. Shopping lists, inventory lists, to do lists… she was a list maker. The paper in her hands looked old and was a bit crumpled.

As she flattened it out in lap she asked, "How are you, by the way?"

"Passable," he answered quickly, resisting the urge to snatch the list out of her hands.

"Okay." She picked up her tea and took a drink.

Forget the blasted tea and give me your answer, he thought as he attempted to look unaffected by the whole situation.

"Shall I get right to it then?"

He nodded his head, though he wanted to say 'for God's sake YES!'

"First off, this wasn't easy for me. It took all my willpower not to run over here that night. My head had a very long and serious talk with my heart and lady bits."

That doesn't sound good… my head always gets in my way, he thought. Wait a minute, lady bits… don't think about Molly's lady bits right now!

"But I did what you suggested and gave myself some time to think it all through. And even though you did answer most of my questions before I asked them, I still need to make some things clear."

She cleared her throat and looked at her list. "You have broken my heart, Sherlock. I don't think it was necessarily on purpose, but you did. I'm not even talking about this latest stunt, I'm talking about the past- our past. You've been cruel and thoughtless. You used me, manipulated me and insulted me just because you could. That's... hard to overlook."

Sherlock had gone over all his past infractions repeatedly in the the recent weeks. The last two days he couldn't help but replay every insult and cruel deduction he'd made of Molly… and every single one made his stomach turn. He was well aware of his failings, especially where Molly was concerned, but he wasn't about to mention that. If she wanted to do a powerpoint presentation, she was well within her rights.

She focused back on the paper when she started speaking once again. "You can be cold and dismissive and that acerbic tongue of yours," she said looking up. "it's almost too much sometimes, Sherlock. Even if I know you don't really mean to be unkind… it still hurts." Eyes back on her list, she continued, "You are singularly focused when working on a case. While I can appreciate this as a friend or a colleague, I believe this would be a huge obstacle in a romantic relationship."

As he listened he prayed (which he never really did) that here was a pro list somewhere on that paper.

"I won't go over the drugs situation, you said you are trying and I believe you." She looked at him imploringly, leaned forward and said, "I've always trusted you, Sherlock. Please don't abuse that. You mean so much to so many people. You have to stop this…"

"I thought you weren't going to go over the drugs bit," he interrupted before she got too carried away.

She sighed and tucked a hair behind her ear. "Yes, well… moving on."

Dear God, get on with it, he thought. Be done with me so that I can learn the new skill of wallowing in self pity. Who knows, it might be useful.

"All of that being said… I can't deny the fact that I'm in love with you."

Sherlock lowered his head and closed his eyes and took in the words for the first time ever, though self-doubt was telling him that it might also be the last.

"And because I am in love with you I have to give this a shot."

He looked up to find Molly's, warm brown eyes meeting his. "Really?"

"Yes."

"But I sound like a shit," he said before he could stop himself.

She looked shocked for a moment then glanced down at the list. "Right. But you're also passionate and driven. You have the most amazing mind I've ever encountered. You help people, and even though you say you do it for the need to solve puzzles, I've watched you for years. I know you care, Sherlock. You can't hide from me, remember?" She smiled. "The way you take care of the people in your life, Mrs. Hudson, the Watsons, Greg… me, it's so lovely. You are a truly remarkable man and I'd be lying to myself if I said I didn't want to be a part of your life for as long as I could." She folded up the paper and slipped it back into her bag. "I know I'm taking a chance, I know I could get hurt. But the next man I date could hurt me just as easily and I seriously doubt he's going to have an arse half as nice as yours," she said with a grin.

She stood up and walked over to him, Sherlock had to lean back in his chair as she stepped between his legs. When her small hand touched his cheek he thought his mind might explode. Then she sat down… on his lap. It felt nothing like having Janine sat across his legs. No, Molly belonged there. It felt perfect.

Suddenly a thought struck him. "You have more lists, don't you?" She was playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and it was very distracting, but he had a feeling she hadn't really said all that she'd planned to, just yet.

"I do. But we can either talk or kiss." To make her point she kissed his cheek. "I know which I prefer, but you've been very patient, so I'll let you decide." Another kiss to his jaw.

Although he was a bit curious about her other list, he was much more interested in what it was like to kiss, properly kiss, Molly Hooper. So he decided on the kissing business. He reached up and cupped her face with one hand. He had to admit to himself he was slightly nervous. This was their first real kiss. Molly licked her lips, clearly anticipating what was to come. He took a deep breath and said, "Thank you for giving me a chance even though according to your list, I don't sound like relationship material."

"Let me decide that, kay?"

He nodded and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. "I will be better, Molly- I want to be better. You deserve nothing less."

Her face broke out in the brightest of smiles just before their lips met. She was soft and warm and even though he had planned on keeping it sweet and chaste, Molly seemed to have something else in mind. Her tongue grazed his lips and he gladly opened them for her. After several minutes of heated snogging, Molly pulled back and seemed to ask him with a simple look if he wanted to go further, to which his answer was: oh, yessss!

Later that night, as he held his sleeping pathologist in his arms, his final thought just before he joined her in slumber was, best plan ever.

Well, I really hope you liked it. Please let me know. And thank you all for reading. Much love ~Lil~