A/N: Hey, this is just a small little story I've had stuck in my head. It's not really a one-shot. More of a series. But, here's the first. Hope you like it, and please review ;)
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.
There was nothing extraordinary about that day. There wasn't a big case that he had to work on. In fact, there was no case at all. He was at the morgue working on lab cultures when it happened. 'It' being the sudden change in Sherlock Holmes when it came to a certain mousey pathologist. She was looking no different than usual, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and sporting an awful jumper.
If he had to give a reason as to why 'it' happened, it would probably be the following conversation.
"Molly, I'm going to need you to stay late tonight and help me finish these."
Without even looking up from her work she responded, "I have plans, Sherlock."
He gave an irritated sigh. "Well cancel them, of course."
That was new. Stuttering apologies and stammering excuses, he was used to. Flat out refusal, he was not. He looked up for the first time, shocked to see her still intently looking away from him. Perhaps a little flattery was all that was needed.
"You know, Molly, that shade really does look lovely on-"
His jaw dropped for just a moment as she continued to work.
"I beg your pardon?"
She finally looked up, her eyes somewhat amused, much to his frustration.
"Sherlock, I said no. False compliments aren't going to get you anywhere. We can finish your experiment in the morning."
And that was when 'it' happened. At that moment, Molly Hooper ceased to be the mousey pathologist who helped him fake his death. Instead she became...well, he wasn't sure yet, but he knew it was more.
He knew she was acting more like herself around him since the Fall. Did that mean she had always been like this, but just never around him? He hoped not. He kind of liked this Molly with a bit of fire. He would hate to think he had been the one dousing that flame for years.
She was actually rather intelligent. You don't become the youngest female pathologist 's ever had by being a bumbling idiot. After all, he never would have asked for her help if he thought her stupid.
And, if he was being honest with himself, he rather liked the way she looked. Especially right now, while she worked. She had a look of fierce determination in her eyes that his admired. Her long brown hair, though beautiful when down, was now out of her face, which was practical, and he loved practicality. Besides, he loved seeing her face when it was clean of make-up and full of passion.
And that is when he realized that 'it' had happened. He, Sherlock Holmes, fancied Molly Hooper. Right. Well, now that was settled, how exactly should he proceed here? He was in a new situation. It was rather like an...experiment. He smiled at the thought and found himself surprisingly excited at his newfound feelings.
He swiftly went through his limited knowledge of romantic interactions before he spoke again. What did John usually do? Didn't he try to ask the girl out? And there was that one time Molly had asked him for coffee...oh. He had to make up for that. Actually, he had to make up for a lot of things. But, perhaps she had the right idea.
"This isn't about the experiment," he added quickly, noticing her growing frustration.
She looked at him suspiciously before asking,"Well what, then?"
He paused. "How about some coffee?"
There. That sounded nice enough, didn't it? He didn't use sarcasm, he gave her a friendly smile...Why is she frowning?
"Fine, Sherlock," she sighed sadly, much to his confusion. He wanted to smile at her acceptance, but he was still worried about the way she was acting. He grew even more confused as she stood up and stormed out of the lab without a word.
Didn't she just agree to have coffee with him? Or was she being sarcastic? Was it possible he had missed that? No, of course not. Then why was she acting so oddly?
Suddenly, the door opened again and Molly stalked over to his chair. A cup of steaming hot coffee was placed down in front of him as she walked back toward her station. He ran over his words in his head and then realized his mistake. Of course she thought he was...idiot!
"Molly, that's not-"
"What, Sherlock? That's not what? Not how you take it? Do you take it differently now? Because I know for a fact that's how you've taken it for the past three years!"
She looked as shocked as himself by her outburst, but she made no attempt to apologize, for which he was thankful.
"No, no. The coffee is perfect, as always. Nevermind," he muttered hurriedly.
"Right," she huffed. She turned back to her work, but he felt the need to say something more.
"And thank you."
He smirked when he saw her jaw drop a fraction of an inch.