A New Chapter

"Molly, where's the chamomile tea?", Sherlock questioned exasperatedly, shuffling into the kitchen from her bedroom where he had crashed the night before.

Molly peeks above her book, her glasses slightly slipping down her nose. "Sherlock, you should know where everything is by now. You have a categorized sock drawer at Baker Street, yet you can't remember the one cabinet in my house where my tea is stored?"

His face softens and he pouts, using his puppy dog eyes, silently pleading for her to remind him, just one more time. She chuckles and rolls her eyes.

"The cabinet to the right of the stove, lowest shelf. Remember that."

Sherlock grins and nods. "Yes, ma'am." He gets out the tea and steeps it into his mug of boiling water carefully. He can't help but gaze back over to Molly in all her glory. Fuzzy pajamas and socks, messy bun, no makeup, dark rimmed glasses, and all curled up with her book. A historical romance novel with some mystery tied in, of course.

For the first time, Sherlock can see himself getting used to this, maybe even making it an everyday occurrence. However, as any man would have to, he should start small. Come over just a bit more often, then more, then more, until she realizes she wants him to reside there permanently. After all, this is his favorite bolt hole. Not just because Molly's home was a place of warmth and comfort, but because Molly had become that to him, herself.

Walking over to the sofa with his mug carefully, he lowers himself down into the cushion beside her, glancing over from time to time between attempting to process the idiotic drabble on the telly. Sherlock bites his lip and realizes it was probably a bit not good, not asking her if she would like some tea too.

"Oh, erm...did you want some as well?"

"Mmh...? Oh, um...sure. If it's not too much trouble. But if you're already seated you don't have to."

"No, no, I should have asked to start with. It's not an issue. Here, have this one so it doesn't go cold." He hands her his mug gently and she looks up at him softly, a small smile coming to her lips. Placing her book open on her lap, she slowly wraps her hands around the mug to take it, her fingers laying on top of his for a moment. Sherlock locks eyes with her and swears she couldn't look any more beautiful than she does exactly in this moment. Certain feelings begin to arise in his chest before he pushes them away again.

He clears his throat. "Right...be careful, I filled it a bit too high and I wouldn't want you to burn yourself. That's painful."

Molly grins at him. "Thank you, but I've got it. Believe me I know; I've burned myself on many occasions. I'm pretty clumsy, as you probably know."

"Just a bit", he smiles and winks, causing a pink flush to rush to her cheeks. Sherlock looks her over for a moment before suavely making strides towards the kitchen, making another mug of tea, all the while keeping his eyes on her. She returns her eyes to her book, but glances at him through the corners of them every so often, feeling his stare on her.

He makes his tea and returns to his seat as she takes a small sip of hers, smiling gently. "Are you alright, Sherlock? You never did tell me why you needed to stay here so urgently last night. Fight with John?"

"What? Oh, no. No it was just...something else. Nothing to worry yourself with."

"Oh well...okay."

Sherlock sips his tea and sighs, turning towards her slightly. "Baker Street can get...too quiet. You would think that I would enjoy that all the time to think, because of well...you know how I am. However, sometimes it does the opposite of help and I can nearly feel it slowly driving me mad. So I need...some sort of company."