So, upon request by a few peoples, I have decided that yes, I will post this one-word prompt fic on my FFNET page. Teehee. I really did like writing it, and enough people wanted it continued, so I did that...so sure! Might as well post it on here.

I do not own Sherlock, Molly, Mary, John, or any of the ACD/Moff/tiss characters.

Enjoy!

Dance:

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It wasn't that she hated going out with the girls. No, in fact, Molly loved enjoying time with the few friends that she did have. However, she had never felt comfortable going to the club like they did. It was always the same for her, she'd sit on the sidelines, enjoying the fruity cocktail that Mary or Hannah had picked out for her to try that time. She would watch and laugh as the others would go out onto the dance floor, swaying to the music with either each other, or the random strangers who were around them.

However this time was different. Because this time, Molly had been pushed to her limit one too many times by the ever irritating Sherlock Holmes. This time, Molly had ordered her own drink, a gin and tonic, and tossed it back in one go. The alcohol seared down her throat, but she didn't care. Far too long she had let him use her, and today, he had taken it one step too far.

"It's not like you'd be doing anything interesting were it not for me being here anyway, Molly."

The phrase had set her off, causing her to want to prove his smug self wrong. So, she had left the hospital in a huff, raced home, changed into her sexiest clubbing outfit, and raced to meet her friends. When she arrived at the restaurant, she had vented with them about the frustrations of working with such a child. Mary had applauded her decision to prove him wrong, and Hannah was all too eager to set her up with some random bloke they would no doubt meet at the club later.

"You just need to call him up and tell him that if he's not going to shag you, you'll get someone else who will." She had said plainly. Molly blushed, despite her internally agreeing a bit. They had gone to the club after dinner, together thrilled that Molly had finally broken out of her shell, if even for one night. As they entered the building, the loud thump of the bass echoed in their ears. The others cheered as they walked onto the floor, Molly hesitating for only a moment, before Sherlock's voice came back to her mind.

"You'll probably just go home tonight and curl up with a good book, am I right?"

"No, you're not." She muttered to the Sherlock in her thoughts, before stepping out onto the floor. She joined her friends, who were already in full swing with the music that played far too loudly. Molly eventually found her rhythm, and smiled and laughed at the way her friends would burst into sporadic movement. She was entirely too caught up in the activities to feel her phone buzz in her pocket. However, the fabric of her jeans was entirely too comfortable with sliding across the touch screen, thus answering the incoming call.

"Hello? Molly? Molly, are you there?" The voice at the other end called out, going unheard by the tipsy pathologist.

Hannah had raced over to her, a random guy in tow behind her. He was handsome enough, a silly drunk smile plastered on his face. An equally drunk Hannah pulled him up to stand beside her.

"Molly, this is Chip. Chip, this is Molly. She's had a bad day with a very mean man who refuses to shag her silly. So, I thought maybe you could instead!" She hollered loudly, entirely too excitedly. Molly giggled nervously, before shyly looking up to Chip. He smiled brightly too, before watching Hannah leave, dancing frantically as she did so. Molly blushed as she mouthed a 'hello' to the man. He laughed too, nodding his head in a returned greeting. He motioned for her to join him at the bar, to which she smiled happily.

On the other side of London, however, there was a much more pained expression on the face of the world's only consulting detective. He had rang her up to apologize for his harshness earlier in the day. While still expecting her to be at home and curled up with a book, the shock came to him as he heard the background sound of club music in the receiver of his mobile. He called out to her a few times, and had just come across the realization that she hadn't known her phone picked up the call, so he prepared to hang up. That was, until a very shrill, very drunk sounding voice chimed out for him to hear.

"She's had a bad day with a very mean man who refuses to shag her silly. So, I thought maybe you could instead!" The voice declared. He then hung up, a sober expression falling over him quickly. The words played over and over in his mind, and he tried to comprehend their meaning. It hadn't taken him long to decipher that he was the 'very mean man'. However, he had no idea where this female friend of Molly's had decided he had refused to 'shag her silly'. Molly was respectable, far too intelligent to let someone treat her so carnally. Right? Having determined that, not only did he not know the answer to that question, but that he did not want to let some other man be the one to discover the answer, Sherlock Holmes flung his coat onto his shoulders, leaving 221B Baker Street in an immediate urgency to track down his pathologist.

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Allons-y! Chapter two follows quickly!