"What do you need?"

"You." Molly waited patiently, her composure steadfast.

"First... I need your phone."

Molly nodded even as she obligingly pulled out her mobile and handed it to him.

"Second—and this part is much more complicated-"

"I can handle it," assured Molly firmly.

She wasn't quite sure what had provoked her to interrupt Sherlock to say such a thing, but she didn't regret it. Though her heart was pounding just as nervously as it always did around the consulting detective, Molly didn't want to be the shy, awkward, easily intimidated and manipulated 'girl at the morgue' anymore. She was Molly Hooper, a bright young lady with an intuitive mind and the right to speak it out loud. Sherlock needed her- and though perhaps he hadn't realized it before he certainly realized it now, now that she'd been frank and open with him, practically demanding his attention and respect.

Sherlock seemed a bit startled at Molly's bold interruption, but the look of surprise faded into a soft smile. Molly's heart raced even more furiously at the sight and she hoped she wasn't blushing. Had Sherlock ever looked on her so tenderly? Not in her memory. At least, not in earnest. Despite what Sherlock thought, Molly could easily tell the difference between his fake flattery and his genuine self. And this smile... well, it was real. Still smiling softly, the detective spoke once more, interrupting Molly from her musings.

"Yes, I believe you can."