First of all, these characters are the creation of people with more money, talent and inherent British-ness than I could ever hope to have.

I tried to avoid too much American-English, but am obviously not British and didn't try very hard. Sorry.

This is not really a sequel to my previous story "The Sense of Death," it's the same Sherlock and Molly, but this is just some funny short tales of them attempting to negotiate a relationship. So if you didn't read that story, you can still enjoy this story. (Although, you could go give my other tale a try, you know, if you don't have anything better to do.)

It was time. They could put it off no longer. Molly was determined to sit Sherlock down and have a serious discussion about their relationship. Upon their return from London Below, Sherlock had shocked her by announcing that he expected her to join him in living at 221B Baker Street. It was a wonderful surprise, but Molly feared that Sherlock hadn't considered how moving in together could complicate their relationship. After three days cooped up at Mycroft's home, Sherlock was overjoyed to return to his beloved flat. John Watson had moved out three months after Sherlock's "death." After revealing his still alive status, and stoically taking the punches John delivered, Sherlock asked John if he intended to return to Baker Street. Sherlock hoped that John would. It would be extremely convenient if his best friend and Molly both lived with him. John was still trying to process the twin shocks of Sherlock being alive and Sherlock being in a relationship with Molly. He stammered out that for now, he planned to stay put.

Much later on, John would confide to Molly that he wanted to stay in his new flat for two reasons. First of all, John thought that Sherlock and Molly would benefit from living together without him. The flat would likely be too cramped with three residents, especially when two of those residents were romantic partners. While John was confused as to the exact nature of their relationship, he had no intention of ever seeing Sherlock and Molly in any sort of intimate embrace. Secondly, John's own romantic life had improved since moving. Away from Sherlock, he was able to properly maintain a relationship. John confessed that Sherlock had ruined many dates.

"Pardon my language, Molly, but the man was some sort of cock-blocking genius. I was lucky to make it to three dates with most women, I was getting desperate. If it wasn't Sherlock interrupting dates, he was insulting them or purposefully losing their messages, you name it, he did it. I've met someone really special, and I intend to give this one a good try, and I don't need Sherlock trying to ruin it for me. Good luck Molly, maybe now that you are with him, he'll finally stop being such a massive pain." With that John, gave her his blessing. He prayed to whatever gods might be that Sherlock didn't fuck this up, Molly was the best thing that could ever have happened to the man.

Molly had been living at Baker Street for a week now. After her disappearance, most of her belongings were placed into storage. Mycroft had had a hunch that she was with his not-dead little brother and had seen to taking care of her things. So far, she had mostly bought new things at Sherlock's insistence. After years of criticizing her clothes, Sherlock was determined to see her in more attractive clothing. That was just one of the things Molly intended to discuss. He had left earlier to deal with some paperwork with Mycroft. Returning from the dead was a bureaucratic nightmare apparently.

Molly knew he would come back in a bad mood, but didn't want to put off their discussion any longer. She thought about what she wanted from their relationship and some rules for the flat. Mrs. Hudson was delighted that Molly was moving in, she hoped that a woman would be able to stop Sherlock from shooting the walls. She had shared some of Sherlock's past bad habits with Molly in hopes that she would put a stop to them. Molly had assured her new landlady that she would do her best.

Molly had written down a few key points on a notepad Mrs. Hudson had given her. It was pale pink and had a pair of kittens on the lower left corner. She chewed on the end of her pen while she thought. The downstairs door slammed and Molly could hear footsteps running up the stairs. Sherlock was home. He burst into the sitting room, coat and curls flying. He was slightly flushed with the cold and annoyance at having to deal with his brother. He brightened up when he saw Molly. He was hoping to dispel the last of his irritation by engaging in relaxing activities with Molly. Preferably naked activities. It had been far too long since he had last been able to properly enjoy spending time with Molly. He stopped short when he noticed the slightly worried look on her face and notepad clutched in her hands. She looked serious, which made him concerned about his plans for recreation. He swooped over to her and knelt in front of her. He gave her his most charming smile as he kissed her softly.

"Molly, you look lovely, I have a marvelous idea, join me in the bedroom, please?" he asked, swooping in for another kiss.

Molly squirmed, clearly enjoying his kisses, but conflicted. She rested a hand on his chest and took a deep breath. "Sherlock, wait, we need to talk first."

Sherlock grew more alarmed. His experience with women was nearly negligible, but even he knew it was a bad sign when a woman insisted on having a talk. He quickly reviewed the past few days, had he done something thoughtless?

Molly tried to smile. "Um, I just wanted to talk about our relationship, and discuss some boundaries, um guidelines really, about what we both want, especially now that we are living together. I thought it would be a good idea" she said in a rush.

"Guidelines?" Sherlock was starting to really worry. He had never been very good at rules. His earliest teachers had been astounded by his intelligence. At first, they were excited to have such a bright student. The excitement soon diminished when they realized that he was too damn intelligent for his own good. He refused to obey their rules and frequently challenged their authority. Sherlock was starting to have unpleasant memories of angry teachers. This talk of rules was making him uncomfortable. He and rules had been adversaries his whole life. He decided to resume kissing Molly till she saw the wisdom in his earlier suggestion.

"We can talk about guidelines later, I want to kiss you now Molly" he murmured as he kissed her neck. He knew that was a sensitive spot, he hoped she wouldn't be able to resist.

Molly knew exactly what he was trying to do. She nearly whimpered in frustration. They needed to talk; she grabbed his face and made him look at her. "Sherlock, we can do that later, I am serious. I think it's very important that we talk. Please?" Molly was not above using her own weapons. She pursed her lips and looked slightly sad. She knew Sherlock would be helpless to resist her sad doe eyes.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and huffed out an irritated breath. He sat back in his armchair and tapped his fingers impatiently. Molly smiled encouragingly at him. She looked at her notepad for courage. "Okay, well, for example, I know you don't particularly like being affectionate in public, maybe you could tell me what is and isn't okay. If we both know what the other wants, we won't have to worry about misunderstandings" she said brightly.

Molly's attempts at looking cheerful were not helping Sherlock feel any less nervous. He could see far too many ways this discussion could go horribly awry and end with hurt feelings, and worse, no delightful sexual activities in his near future. Despite feeling like he was walking into a trap, he decided to go ahead. He furrowed his brow as he thought. Something quickly came to mind. He took a deep breath. "Molly, I would prefer to not be called your boyfriend." Her face fell, and he tried to hurry up and repair the damage. "It's the term I object to, it sounds much too juvenile" he explained. Molly still looked stricken. He jumped to his feet and started pacing. "We both know that we love each other and are important to each other. I fail to see how defining our relationship with such a childish word is beneficial." He looked back at Molly, she was starting to relax. Clearly expressing that they loved each other calmed her. He made a note to remember this for the future.

"Okay, I think I understand what you mean, um, what should we call each other then? Partner? I don't really like that either, too cold" said Molly. She frowned as she tried to think of a better phrase.

"I propose we call each other Sherlock and Molly, as those are our given names. If people have questions about the nature of our relationship they will just have to ask." Sherlock thought this was a perfect solution. Molly wasn't convinced, but decided it wasn't worth worrying about now. Better to continue the discussion.

Sherlock quickly thought of something else that he had observed other couples doing. "Also, I find pet names very annoying. I would rather not be called by some silly term of endearment" he stated.

Molly bit her lip; that would be a difficult one. Granted, Sherlock wasn't the sort of person you called "sweetie" anyway, but Molly knew it would be hard for her not to show some affection. Sherlock realized she was concerned. "Perhaps we can try to limit such phrases to times when we are alone" he offered as a compromise. Molly nodded and smiled. This little talk was going pretty well, she decided to jump in with her own suggestions.

"See, this is good! Um, well I have already told you most of what I want before. Most importantly, I would like it if you could tell me what you want; I can't always deduce that you'd like to be left alone by the way you're wearing your scarf" she said.

Sherlock had an urge to inform her that if she would just observe, things like that would be obvious. He knew before he opened his mouth that such a statement would upset her, so he kept it to himself. He was very proud of himself as he nodded in assent. Molly felt even bolder.

"And about living together, no shooting weapons in the house" she said quickly before she lost her nerve.

Sherlock frowned and folded his arms over his chest. "Mrs. Hudson made you say that" he groused.

"Um well, she did mention it, but I already was going to say something when I realized those were bullet holes. Couldn't you go to a shooting range?" Sherlock did not look pleased at this suggestion. Molly had another thought. Sherlock loved to show off. "Maybe we could go together and you could teach me?" she asked.

Sherlock was startled by this idea. At first it struck him as bizarre, but then the notion began to have some appeal. He rather liked the thought of Molly cooing over his shooting skills. Better yet, she wouldn't know that John was a much better shot, and he had no intention of telling her. Molly watched as he thought over the idea. She could tell he was considering it.

"Fine. I will refrain from firing weapons in the house unless lives are in danger." He remembered another of Mrs. Hudson's common complaints. "But the skull is staying on the mantel" he announced firmly.

"Oh, that's fine. Honestly Sherlock, you do realize that I am one of the few women who wouldn't mind a human skull in the living room" teased Molly.

"Yes, well Mrs. Hudson has had a nasty habit of hiding him from me in the past. I've had him for some time and I do not wish to be parted" explained Sherlock.

"Her."

"What?"

"Your skull, it's a woman's" said Molly.

"It is not" shot back Sherlock.

Molly put her hands on her hips. "Sherlock, I picked it up and looked it over, of course I can't be totally certain without other evidence, but I'm pretty sure it's a female."

Sherlock gasped, and his eyes grew wide with alarm. "You touched my skull?" he asked, horrified.

Molly shrank back a little. "Um, yes. I'm sorry, I didn't know…" Shit. Things had been going so well, and now, to get tripped up over something so stupid. She squared her shoulders and looked straight at him. "See, this is the sort of thing I am talking about. I need to know what is off limits, we can avoid a lot of arguing then" she explained. Inside she was cringing. Sherlock still looked shocked.

"It's alright, it's just, no one touches my skull. Unless they are trying to take it," muttered Sherlock. He was a little embarrassed at how emotional he got over his skull at times. It had been his only companion for many years, his only confidant during many lonely school terms. His schoolmates had often threatened the skull. Now he felt extremely silly and wanted to sink into the floor. Why did Molly insist on this awful talk? His plan for the afternoon was much nicer for everyone involved.

Molly crept up next to him and hugged him. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes. "I promise I will never touch your skull again, and I will defend her from all who would assail her virtue" she said with a small smile.

Sherlock kissed her forehead and stroked her hair. He bent his head so he could whisper in her ear. "It's alright Molly, you can touch my skull" he said solemnly.

"Thank you" whispered Molly. She bit her lower lip to keep from giggling. She felt like Sherlock had just given her a very rare privilege. Somehow, this felt almost as important as when he had first told her he loved her. She nearly laughed aloud as she thought about that. Being in a relationship with Sherlock Holmes was definitely going to be very different from most.

Sherlock was hoping that Molly was finished with this whole "talk" of hers. He ran his fingers over her shirt, tugging at the hem in hopes of pulling it over her head. He kissed her more forcefully in case she still didn't understand his plan. She wasn't properly kissing back. In fact she was trying not to laugh. He leaned back and looked at her with concern. He was growing desperate. "Molly, can we cease this discussion? I can think of many better ways to spend this time, each one offering many lovely ways to use our mouths without speaking. Come join me in bed, please" he begged.

It was hopeless. He was using the puppy dog eyes. Besides, the feel of his fingers running up and down her side was making it hard for Molly to concentrate on her carefully written list. She allowed Sherlock to pull her away from the armchairs and towards his bedroom. Sherlock hummed in happiness as his plan finally succeeded. He and Molly fell on the bed, arms going every which way, tugging off clothing. He paused when he got to her knickers. They were black with pink lace trim. There was a small pink cat outlined on the left hip. Where on earth had she gotten them? He thought back to the notepad she had been holding and the blog she used to have. She had an alarming fondness for cats. Molly was staring at him, clearly wondering why he had stopped. Well, the whole discussion had been her idea in the first place. He cleared his throat. "Molly, before we get properly started, I have thought of one other rule. Stop embellishing all your belongings with cats."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" she asked.

Sherlock realized he had made an error and hastily tried to fix it by kissing her. She wiggled free and crossed her arms across her chest. Damn. He needed to fix this fast. "You're a beautiful adult woman Molly, all of these cats encrusting everything is silly." Now she was sliding further away from him, obviously not in the mood to return to their previous activities. Sherlock swore to himself. He really needed to work harder at understanding women. He tried one last attempt. "Never mind. Forget I said anything. I love you" he said in a rush. He smiled at her hopefully. He was desperate to touch her. He reached out a tentative hand toward her hip.

Molly tried to keep looking stern but failed. She burst out laughing and grabbed his hand. She leapt back towards him, tackling him and somehow ending up straddling his hips. Sherlock stared up at her in shock while she laughed wickedly at him. "No more talking. Discussion time is over" she ordered. Sherlock grinned and tried to reach up and remove her bra. She grabbed both his hands and pinned them over his head. She leaned a little closer, a naughty gleam in her eye. "But you know, Mrs. Hudson and I were talking. She wants to replace the wallpaper you shot up. Men will be here next week to put it up. We already picked out the most darling pattern. It's got lots of kittens and balloons and happy clowns!" she smirked. She was doing something incredibly stimulating with her hips while keeping him pinned to the mattress. Sherlock groaned and nearly begged for mercy.

She was staring at him with a triumphant look on her face. "Fine! I surrender! You can have all the cats you want! All of them!" gasped Sherlock. Molly just laughed, wrinkling her nose in an excessively adorable manner. She released Sherlock's wrists and resumed kissing him fiercely. Sherlock responded with equal enthusiasm. He deftly removed her bra and rolled her over. She giggled as he finally was able to carry out his earlier plan.

Sometime later, Sherlock was nestled close to Molly who was stroking his hair. She kissed the back of his neck and whispered, "You know, I was just teasing about the wallpaper."

He sniffed. "Obviously."

Sherlock and Molly's Rules

1. Tell each other how you feel, if you need space, ask for it.

2. Don't use the phrases "boyfriend" or "girlfriend," too juvenile.

3. Avoid public displays of affection and silly pet names.

4. No shooting weapons in the flat unless lives are in danger.

5. The skull stays on the mantel.

6. Avoid clothing/other belongings with silly cat images.