Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to BBC's Sherlock or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes or anything like that.

About two weeks after their date Molly got terribly sick and had to stay home from school. Sherlock had been kind enough to offer, probably forced by his parents, to collect her school work for her.

The day had been long and dull, because daytime telly definitely wasn't interesting and Molly could not keep her eyes focused long enough to do any proper reading. Therefore much of her day while Sherlock was away at school was spent sleeping, though with her sinuses congested as they were, that was in and of its self a difficult task.

When Sherlock arrived at her house after school he found Molly fast asleep on the living room sofa and snoring just a little. Unsure what to do, he set her work on the coffee table figuring that she would find it there when she woke up.

While setting the papers down as quietly as possible he looked over and noticed Molly was sweating slightly, so whatever fever she had was broken. Covered in a heavy blanket though, he hardly figured she was comfortable, and he considered moving it, but in the end believed that Molly would wake up if she was uncomfortable. Then deciding her house was probably quieter than his, what with Mycroft and some of his friends from Uni visiting today, Sherlock made himself comfortable on one of the chairs near Molly and took the time to work on his own school work.

The work was stupidly easy as usual so as he worked Sherlock's mind wandered a bit and every few minutes he would realize that he was thinking more about Molly and less about the theory of Social Darwinism that applied to the worksheet in front of him. After about twenty minutes of this, Sherlock had finished the work and decided that walking around the house for a bit seemed like a decent idea; perhaps he could find something to interest his mind. Molly's parents seemed to be out of the house for some reason, and if the fact that they had left a can of soup out with instructions that indicated that they were not planning on being back until late.

Molly opened her eyes later that afternoon to find Sherlock sitting on the living room floor surrounded by papers and a few books. He seemed to be concentrating deeply so she laid still and watched him for a while. He really was interesting to watch if he was thinking about something quite hard, but not so much that he was retreating into his own mind.

He was muttering to himself so quietly that the only way it was possible to tell he was talking was the fact that his lips were moving and even then there was no possible way of distinguishing what he was saying as the words jumbled together. He kept running his hands through and then over his hair patting it down in a way that gave her the impression that whatever he was working on bothered him. He continued like that for a few minutes before he sighed and started shuffling through the papers closest to him. Then he glanced up at Molly in a gesture that had become familiar to him and was about to return his attention to what was in his hands when he noticed she was awake.

"Sleep well?" He asked setting his paper aside and sitting back a little to look at her.

"No." Molly replied. She was miserable and had been all the time she slept, not to mention that her dreams had been strange and confusing.

Sherlock nodded, and unsure what else to do leaned forward and busied himself cleaning up the papers around him. "I brought your school work, it is right here." He stood and picked Molly's work off of the coffee table, but then set it back down as he noticed how worn she still looked. "There wasn't much, just Literature and Chemistry."

Molly sat up and leaned against the arm rest of the sofa as Sherlock spoke. "Thanks, but I really can take care of that later. What were you working on?"

"Nothing important." Sherlock's reply was quick and to the point before switching the subject. "Your parents will be out for a while, but they left some soup if you are hungry."

"No," Molly shook her head a little too fast and had to grab her head between her hands to calm the ache, "No, I think I just want to stay still, maybe sleep some more."

"Would you accept a glass of water at the least? Maybe something for the headache?" Sherlock was somewhat out of his element, but did know that dehydration was common among people who develop a cold or the flu, and while the popular saying was 'drown a cold, starve the flu' it was generally incorrect.

Molly was surprised by the offer but nodded. "Both." She replied as she closed her eyes and relaxed against the sofa knowing that Sherlock could find everything on his own after years of practically living at her house as well as his own.

It didn't take him long, but by the time Sherlock got back with a class of water and pain killers for Molly, she had drifted off and was almost asleep. He gently nudged her awake and helped her sit up before handing her the medication and glass of water. He then sat down at the foot of the sofa where her feet had been, Sherlock watched her carefully for a moment and Molly did not fail to notice.

"So do you want to watch some telly or something?" Molly asked finding the remote tucked underneath the pillow she had been resting her head on just moments ago.

"Whatever you would like." Sherlock looked bored, but Molly knew he secretly enjoyed watching shows with her, even the day time soaps. So they sat like that for a while, Sherlock relaxed into his section of the sofa and Molly drifting in and out of consciousness.

When Molly was half asleep at one point she thought she caught Sherlock watching her, but as soon as their eyes met he blinked and looked away. This happened a second time and Molly brushed it aside, he could easily just be checking to see if she was actually asleep yet, but by the third time it could not be put off so easily.

"See something you like?" She teased. Blame it on the cold going to her head, but all she could really think about was how amazing Sherlock looked today. Sherlock's cheeks seemed to flush as Molly's did now and she silently chided herself for the rash comment.

"I just. . . you. . . Are you feeling better?" Sherlock stumbled over he words, definitely surprised by Molly's teasing.

"No," Molly smiled, "but maybe after I sleep some more I will." She kicked her feet out from under her and shifted the blanket around so that her feet were resting on Sherlock's leg.

"Well then sleep." Sherlock's newest reply came out stronger than the last and he even graced her with a smile before turning back to the television and Molly soon followed suit, and soon she was fast asleep.

It was late when Sherlock finally managed to make himself leave Molly's side. She was very solidly asleep and her parents had been home for a while so Sherlock just planned to let himself out.

As he got up off of the sofa though, Sherlock could not shake the feeling that he should at least attempt to say goodbye to Molly. So as she stretched out her legs to take up the entire length of the sofa Sherlock bent over her and placed a soft kiss to her forehead while whispering. "Sleep well, Molly Hooper."

As if she had heard him through the veil of her sleep she mumbled something that could have been a response before snuggling deeper into her blanket.

While walking home, Sherlock replayed that moment in his mind along with his favorite parts of their date.

"Sherlock Holmes, is that sentiment?" He mused out loud, to himself, as he reached his door. Well perhaps it was, but he liked the feeling.