Even though it had been nearly three months since Sherlock "died", Molly was still trying to piece her life back together. She had seen John struggling to cement himself without Sherlock, Lestrade watching as his job and reputation crumbled under his feet, and Mrs Hudson having a hard time walking into her flat, memories of Sherlock lingering in everything.

She was having another night of staying at home, nursing a cup of tea, and getting lost in thought. It wasn't as if Molly was never lost in thought, though. When she had a spare moment, she worried about Sherlock and what he was doing.

There was a knock on the door. Molly stood in the kitchen with the kettle in her hand. She looked over her shoulder and frowned. She glanced at her watch and made her way over to the door. Molly opened it to see a man with fiery red hair, scars across his face, thick, bulky clothes covering his torso, and green eyes. She looked him up and down and her jaw dropped. She covered her mouth with her hand and stared him in the eyes.

"Sherlock?!" she squeaked.

The man frowned at her and manoeuvred around her into the flat. "Be quiet. This is confidential and the hallway is too open and public."

She closed the door and blushed, embarrassed that she had been so stupid.

"Sorry." She paused and frowned at him. "Why aren't you in Bulgaria? What are you doing here? What's happened?"

After hanging up his coat, he took off his shoes and sat on the lounge chair. "I'm afraid I need you again. Not as serious as last time, but still bad. I already contacted Mike on your behalf and you're off for a month."

Molly frowned. "But, Moriarty's dead, right?" Molly asked, fear coursing through her veins.

"Of course," he replied. "I just need you to help in Europe for a bit. I need to see my parents first, but then we need to head off. We're leaving ASAP."

Nodding, Molly looked down. "Alright. But it's six. Are you staying or are we going now? When are they expecting us?"

"We'll wake up tomorrow and get ready. There are places I can't go to without another person and you're the only one I can bring."

"Oh," Molly said. "Alright." She looked down at the kettle in her hand and back at Sherlock. "Tea?"

Sherlock followed her eyes to the kettle before looking back up at her. "No."

After Molly made her cup of tea and walked back to the lounge room, the awkward silence began.

Molly woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon. She frowned and stood up. She got out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. Sherlock stood in the kitchen with a spatula in hand. He looked up at her and smiled. He still had the scars across his face, though some of it had started to peel.

"Breakfast is ready. I'll pack your bag and you get ready to go."

As Molly smiled and made her way to the bathroom, Sherlock's smile dropped and he frowned before dropping the spatula on the counter. Molly revelled in the warm water while Sherlock rummaged through her wardrobe and picked appropriate clothes for the circumstances.

He left clothes out for Molly and waited outside for Mycroft's car to arrive. The sleek black car pulled up and the drive opened the back seat and the boot.

Half an hour later, Sherlock and Molly were flying down the country road, making their way to the Holmes cottage.

Molly looked at her watch and sighed. It was nine am and she was getting bored. Sherlock sat in silence, watching as the scenery went by.

"Oh," the detective said as he turned to face Molly. "I've got to tell you something. It just crossed my mind." He frowned and looked down. "My mother resents having my friends at her house. She assumes that the males have serious issues and are drug abusers." Sherlock rolled his eyes and put a finger on his lips. "The once or twice I've brought a female friend, my parents, namely mother, tries to set us up. For all intents and purposes, it's best if we pretend to already be a couple."

Molly furrowed her eyebrows. "Seriously? But we'll only be here for a short time, right?"

"A few days, yes. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable by anything my mother says or does to you and it's best for you and me." He paused and looked at her, his eyes wide and a small pout on his lips.

"Uh…" she bit her lip. How could she resist? How could she say no to that face? "O-okay. Fine."

He beamed at her and grabbed her hands. "Molly, you're such a beautiful woman." Sherlock kissed her knuckles and winked at her before dropping her hands and looking out his window.

Of course Molly couldn't help but feel giddy with Sherlock's actions. Her stomach fluttered, her heart was pounding, there was a silly grin on her face, and her cheeks were bright red. She looked out the window, trying to calm her thoughts down.

It wasn't too long later that the car pulled up outside a gorgeous cottage. Molly was blown away when she saw it. She jumped out of the car and went to get her suitcase. As she approached the boot, Sherlock walked out from the other side of the car and put an arm around her waist.

"I've got this, Molly," he said and kissed her temple.

He grabbed the suitcase and let go of Molly. Sherlock closed the boot and slipped his hand into hers. He looked over at her and smiled while squeezing her hand. They walked hand in hand down the path to the house and stopped at the front door.

Sherlock sighed. "They know we're here. They've been watching since we pulled up." He dropped the bag and knocked on the door. "It's show time," he whispered before lifting their linked hands up and kissing hers.