Sirens. Loud, scary, flashing sirens. Molly's eyes fluttered open. A man was crouched next to her, shining a flashlight in her eyes. "Miss. Miss, can you hear me?" Molly tried sitting up, but immediately fell backwards. Two sets of strong arms caught her. "Ma'am, can you speak?" the man asked gruffly. "Yeah, I can," Molly said, having to think about every word. "What happened?"
"Your cab wrecked, miss." The man spoke to her as if explaining something to a child. "Do you remember anything?"
"No." she said, rubbing her forehead, where there was a dull ache. She noticed quickly that it was cushioned in gauze. A slight flash of worry crossed the man's face, but he immediately gained composure. "What's the last thing you remember?"
She sighed, growing frustrated with her brain for moving so slowly. "Leaving.. the hospital. With Sherlock. Where is he?"
Everything seemed to freeze for what felt like hours, and the cop cleared his throat. "Uh… ma'am, let's worry about you for now."

ONE MONTH BEFORE

Sherlock exhaled slowly. "No." Molly glanced over at the telescope. "Not what you're looking for?" Sherlock rolled his eyes in his usual frustrating manner. "Molly, if it was what I was looking for, I probably wouldn't be saying no." Molly smiled. "Right. Sorry." Sherlock grunted, which was more than she usually got in response. She was okay with that. Ever since she'd helped him fake his death and then, in a really weird way, kind of brought him back, he'd been careful to be kinder to her. It might've been out of respect, but it was most likely out of gratitude. On the other hand, Sherlock didn't really feel anything most of the time.

However, he had to at least feel something. Sherlock had in fact admitted that he had feelings for her, and since then they'd been a makeshift couple. She considered them as boyfriend and girlfriend, but Sherlock probably didn't even think in those terms. It was good enough for her, though. Sure, she didn't expect him to remember anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, Valentine's Day, or anything else of the sort. He was a busy man, and she supposed that she was busy as well. Even though he'd only said he loved her twice, she knew that his feelings were strong enough for him to no longer wave her off as unimportant. Although, Sherlock did seem to enjoy depicting her speech. That never changed.

"Ugh. None of them work. Very well." Sherlock kept a clam tone as he threw away the slides, while his face showed a look of 'time-for-a-killing-spree'. Molly smirked as she cut further into the body she was inspecting. "What could you have died from?" she asked aloud. Mary, who was working on a body to the right glanced over while Sherlock looked from the left. In three seconds, both said quite matter-of-factly: "Liver cancer."
"Great, now there are two of you to deal with," Molly said in mock frustration, picking up her clipboard and scrawling the letters "LC" under CAUSE OF DEATH. Technically, she was supposed to clarify by exact recognition from herself, but judging by the person's medical records and the fact that Mary and Sherlock were both rarely wrong in scientific or medical cases, she trusted it.

"Well, you seem to like us enough to not kick us out of your lab," Mary replied, swabbing a slab clean with disinfectant. Molly, trying to sound stern, replied "I just might if you keep up your attitudes," but the smile on her face and in her voice made her statement pretty inconvincible. Mary smiled and hung up her lab coat while Sherlock buttoned his jacket. "You coming, Molly?" Mary asked as the two made their way for the door. Molly glanced up from her writing. "Uh, no. I'm working for a few extra hours. There's been a bit of an increase in the number of people who've died recently. Besides, I might be on call for the living tonight."

Mary's mouth hung open. "Are you kidding me, Molly? You're going to work through the night of your birthday?" Molly smiled. "Just a birthday, isn't it? One year closer to death, not quite something to look forward to." Mary snorted. "Crowd pleaser. I think you're turning into Sherlock." She elbowed Sherlock. "Am I right?" Sherlock glared at her, and she awkwardly placed her arm to her side, seemingly remembering that Sherlock was not one for joking, laughter, or subsequently anything fun.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were a surgeon." Molly shrugged. "I've never really helped living people, but I am a doctor, and the hospital hasn't had much help lately." Sherlock continued to stare at her, attempting to deduce her and see if she was lying. "Do you need help?" he asked in his deep baritone voice. Molly smiled. "No, that's all right."
"Well, call me if you do," Sherlock said as Mary walked out the door with a wave goodbye. Molly nodded politely at her, and turned back to Sherlock. "Sure thing," she said kindly.

Sherlock's eyes darted from the door to her a few times, as if processing what to do. He leaned down and brushed his lips against her forehead. "Happy Birthday, love," he said in a slightly more emotional tone, but not by much. Molly stared at him in surprise, giggling. "T-thank you, Sherlock!" she said, her voice changing half an octave higher. "Honestly, Molly," Sherlock replied, rolling his eyes. "I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to do that, given our…relationship." He stumbled on the last word, clearly not used to using it to associate himself with Molly. Molly said nothing more, but hugged him tightly. He lightly hugged her back, not really knowing what to do in response, both baffling and irritating him at himself for not knowing what to do. Molly pulled back and gave him a slight salute, going back to her work as Sherlock left out of the door, silently cursing himself for showing affection.

Well, you have to know that it's pretty hard to avoid someone you care deeply for, John's voice rang in his head. This was something he'd told him when Sherlock was pissed off in their flat, muttering to himself about how frustrating it was to have Molly around. You're paying a price for loving someone. That price happens to be a part of your brain, but we both know that you think she's worth it, whether you realize it or not.

"Oh, shut up, John," he muttered to himself and shaking his head, clearing his mind to try and focus on the case he was working on- hopefully he could have a non-emotion night. He missed those.

… Do you? A voice said slyly in his brain, irritating Sherlock to no end. Wasn't he supposed to be the one controlling his own brain? "Yes, yes you do," he said aloud, shaking his head angrily, but still feeling lighthearted, which angered him more as he forced his case back into his brain, and before he knew it, he was in his cab, lost in thought about who the murderer of two grown men could've been, or if they'd killed each other.

Hooray, I've begun another fanfic! This is sort of a sequel to my first fanfiction, but you don't have to read that one (titled "Obvious") to understand this one, I promise. The only thing you should know about this if you haven't read it is that Sherlock is now in love with Molly and is trying to deal with that, which is why he's a bit out of character from the show. I've made him a bit more emotional and lighthearted, because I believe that's what would happen to him if he actually fell in love with Molly. So, happy reading and thank so so much for stopping by, you are automatically a best internet friend of mine! As always, I love ALL feedback, negative or positive because I want to be a good writer, and I really do care about all of your opinions, so R&R is ALWAYS appreciated! So, thank you so very much, and the next chapter will be out soon!