I submitted a "what-if" to tumblr-user Zoraarian and it seemed to inspire an actual fic so here we go!

Sherlock tucked his keys into his pocket, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Tea for me, thanks," he said as he passed through the kitchen.

"I heard you when you came in downstairs," John replied. "Here, bring this in to Molly," he held out a mug and Sherlock took it.

"Molly," Sherlock entered the living room to a rather unexpected sight.

Molly Hooper, his pathologist, stood in his flat, starkers as the day she was born save for the bathrobe she was securing about her frame. More to the point, John's bathrobe.

"Oh thanks," she smiled and took the cup, drinking gratefully. "Perfect, John, thanks!"

"You need a towel for your hair still, yeah?"

"Oh yes," she said, remembering.

"Here, I'll get you one," he said and hurried to the bathroom. "Future reference, top shelf of the cupboard behind the door."

"Thanks."

Sherlock stood in the middle of the living room doorway, blinking, trying to grasp the situation before him. Molly Hooper. In his flat. Was naked. Wearing John Watson's bathrobe as if it were no big thing. And nothing else.

She was toweling off her hair, laughing at something John was saying. Sherlock could smell her shampoo, he could smell her perfume as well, and wondered if it would linger on the fabric.

Good grief! Were John and Molly...intimate?! He felt a stab of jealousy, how dare John take his pathologist!

"You'd do better to take a hot bath, before you catch chill," John said to Molly, startling Sherlock from his thoughts "Maybe by the time you finish, the storm will have let up."

"You don't mind?" She asked.

"Nah course not, oh! Let me show you the trick with the shower, it sticks," he led the way to the bathroom, Molly following.

Sherlock threw himself onto his chair, sulking. His bathrobe was just as good as John's, if not better quality. Rubbish...polyester cheap blend from Tesco's probably. Sherlock decided Molly would look fetching in his robe. The rich maroon would suit her very nicely.

John appeared again, sitting down in his chair with a sigh.

"Back so soon?" Sherlock asked tartly. John frowned.

"What?"

"I would have thought you'd be fornicating or something." John snorted a laugh.

"What?!" Sherlock blinked. "You think Molly and I-" John chuckled. "No, she got bus-sloshed on the way from St. Bart's. Baker Street was closer than her flat, so I ran her over here so she could dry off. It's too cold for her to take two trains all the way to her place!" Sherlock visibly relaxed, for a moment. "She is pretty though, isn't she?" John glanced at the bathroom door, pondering. There was a wondering, 'what if?' tone in his voice that made Sherlock turn sharply. "Oh, here's your tea, by the way." Sherlock ignored it, sinking lower into his chair, folding his knees up against his chest. "Ookay," John set the mug down with a shrug.

"My robe is just as serviceable as yours, you know," Sherlock muttered.

"What?"

"What?" John frowned at the Consulting Detective. If he didn't know any better, he'd say Sherlock was jealous. But that was silly. Why would Sherlock be jealous of something so small as Molly Hooper wearing his bathrobe?! John shook his head. It just made no sense.