Based on the prompt by the lovely Buttercup59: 'Oh goodness, can I just say how much I love your Sherlolly fics. Anyway, if you're still taking prompts, I would love to see a Pillow Talk AU, Sherlock and Molly taking on the roles played by Rock Hudson and Doris Day. Thanks!'

'He's absolutely insufferable!'

Mary rolled her eyes, but nodded her head in pretend sympathy as her friend ranted. They were sitting in the Watson's kitchen having tea while Mary's husband was out, something they started doing when they met at the teaching hospital less than a month previous.

'Heaven forbid something happen to me and I can't call for help!'

'Molly, don't you think you're being a bit overdramatic?' Mary interjected.

Molly huffed and crossed her arms. 'No, I do not.'

'It's just a phone line.'

'No, it's a party line. And I got stuck sharing it with the world's only Consulting Detective!'

Mary choked on her tea. 'Oh, my god!'

'What?'

Mary waved it off. 'Nothing, sorry, just thought of something.'

Molly continued on as though there had been no interruption. 'Anyway, it's bad enough I have to share a line at all. But he's on it constantly, deducing the other side to tears or shouting or… or whatever!'

'Have you asked the phone company for a private line?'

'I'm on the list. They say the earliest I can get one is six months. Can you believe it? Six months listening to that great ponce go on and on, spouting out his brilliance until it makes me want to gag.'

Mary simply smiled into her tea.

That evening, as Mary stood over the stove, with her husband reading the paper at the table, she decided to casually bring up her conversation with Molly.

'I hear the phone company is starting to roll out private lines.'

John hummed in acknowledgement, turning the paper. 'Good. That will hopefully end Sherlock's incessant griping about the other half of his party line.'

She laughed lightly. 'Molly had the same complaint this morning.'

'Is that so?'

He was clearly not paying much attention. Mary quirked an eyebrow. 'The other side of hers is a shallow, narcissistic man with little regard for human emotion.'

'Really?'

'Apparently so.'

'Well,' John murmured and crossed his legs. 'Sherlock claims the other side of his is a childish, whiny woman who has nothing better to do than gripe at him for using the line.'

Mary bit her lip hard to keep from laughing. Several minutes passed as she stirred the sauce. Suddenly, she heard him fist the paper. She imagined he had a spectacularly surprised look on his face. Innocently, she turned around and smiled.

'Something wrong, dear?'

He stared at her, his mouth doing a wonderful impression of a fish. 'Molly… and Sherlock… they're…'

She sauntered over and patted his hand like a child. 'Yep.'

'Right.' He frowned in thought. 'Should we tell them?'

'Well, I was thinking-'

'Never a good sign,' John interjected.

She frowned and bopped him fondly on the head. 'As I was saying, I was thinking we should introduce them. It's about time, anyway, that my best friend meets yours.'

'And have them kill each other?' He asked incredulously. 'Why not make it easier and just wait for one of Sherlock's clients to do him in?'

'Please, love? I've been wanting to get them together for a while, Molly's interested in all the quirky, socially unacceptable things Sherlock is. And he needs someone to rein him in once in a while, but keeps him on his toes intellectually. As far as we know, they don't know the other's first name. So they'll get to know each other over a meal, discover they have many interests in common, and be too smitten with the other that when the phone line issue is inevitably discovered, it won't make a difference!'

He sighed and thought for a minute. 'You've put a lot of thought into this, haven't you?'

She nodded eagerly.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he groaned. 'If something goes wrong and it all goes to pits, I'll put all the blame on you, you know.'

Bending down and kissing him firmly on the lips, she smirked. 'I know. But when have I ever been wrong?'

John grumbled and returned to his paper as Mary turned back to the stove. 'I sometimes envy Sherlock's bachelorhood.'

'I heard that.'

That Saturday, Molly and Mary sat in a booth at a quaint café, waiting for John and his friend while cradling cups of coffee. 'He's really quite the catch. Looks, wealth, intelligent.'

'Mary, please stop trying to sell him to me before I've even met him!' Molly pleaded in exasperation. She was really uncomfortable doing this, but Mary had pulled out all the stops: puppy eyes, begging, blackmail, threats, and her greatest weapon of all, John. One word about how his mate was an ideal fit for her and she caved. If anyone was a good judge of character, it was John Watson.

'They'll be here soon.' Mary glanced at the clock on the wall. 'Nervous?'

'I'm about to meet a stranger and go on a double date with him and my best friends. What's there to be nervous about?' Molly deadpanned, smoothing the imaginary wrinkles from her front. She had worn her best dress, a yellow sheath that never failed to lift her spirits. Her hair was pulled up in a simple updo and she wore minimal makeup, just enough to warm her usually pale features.

'You look fine,' Mary affirmed. She perked up as she glanced over Molly's shoulder to the door. 'And they're here!' The two stood and Molly turned to meet her date.

Her heart, already pounding in nervousness, beat triple time as she stared at the man walking in with John. Taller than average, he had black curls that fell boyishly over his forehead, his sculpted cheekbones and cupid's bow lips, while unconventional, were strangely attractive on his face. But his most arresting feature was his eyes, they were sharp and shone with a weary brilliance, their colors shifting in the light.

Molly shifted nervously as the two men stopped in front of them.

'Molly, this is my friend, Sherlock. Sherlock, this is Molly.' John waved a hand between them in introduction.

Sherlock simply nodded and accepted Molly's timid handshake, staring at her intently. He seemed somewhat familiar, but Molly struggled to place him.

The four sat down, Molly next to Sherlock and their friends on the other side.

'Molly is a medical assistant at St. Bart's teaching hospital,' Mary gushed as John and Sherlock waved the waitress over for coffee. Molly flushed deep red as her friend carried on. 'I'm surprised the two of you haven't met yet, what with you being there so often, Sherlock.'

Ah. 'Actually, I have seen him around.' Molly turned to him. 'Though we've never been introduced.'

Something indeterminable flashed across Sherlock's face before he schooled his features into a careful mask and nodded.

When he said nothing, Molly turned back to her coffee and bit her lip. This wasn't going well at all. The man hadn't spoken so much as a 'hello.' She resisted the urge to groan at the thought of sitting for an entire date with someone who clearly wasn't interested.

'Sherlock works for Scotland Yard,' John offered with an encouraging smile. 'He's a con-'

Sherlock briskly cut him off. 'A consultant. I work in the accounting department.'

Molly blinked in surprise at the rush of words, but smiled kindly nonetheless. She didn't notice John and Mary exchange raised eyebrows.

Sherlock forced himself not to grimace. He had immediately recognized Molly as an employee at Bart's, had even seen the results of her work. She was brilliant, but her potential hindered by the pitiful excuse of her gender being so-called inferior. He had been working up the courage to approach her, but his logical mind always got in the way, reminding him that sentiment is a weakness.

Then when John mentioned his wife was good friends with the sweet nurse from the lab, he knew it was only a matter of time before they were introduced and his hand would be forced. This set-up was exactly what he had been hoping for.

But then Molly spoke. And he cursed whatever God sat in the sky, watching this fiasco with a smile on His face.

Of course it was her. Miss Hooper. The other side of his party line, he immediately recognized her voice. The woman who gave it as good as she got, with a fiery indignation on behalf of whichever client he'd inadvertently insulted. He inwardly grimaced at all the cruel deductions he had spewed at her in retaliation: pathetic, spinster, busybody, spineless… and so many others.

'Sherlock works for Scotland Yard.' Sherlock's eyes widened as John was about to lead him to the slaughter. 'He's a con-'

'A consultant,' he interjected quickly, forcing his voice several tones higher and adopting a slight northern accent. 'I work in the accounting department.'

He tried not to scowl at the look John and Mary shared at the obvious disguising of his voice.

Molly smiled. 'So what brings you to Bart's so often?'

'Errand boy,' he fibbed with a small shrug. 'Gets pretty boring sitting and calculating time cards, so I volunteer to run paperwork between the departments.'

'How interesting.'

Sherlock fought back a laugh at the subtly-forced politeness in her tone. She clearly was not interested in the pathetic life of a dull office boy with nothing better to do than be at the beck and call of his superiors. But she was kind enough to smile at him in encouragement.

She was as sweet as he thought and pretty in a plainspoken way. Unlike his previous paramour, Irene, Molly's beauty was subtle and in the details. The way her cheeks blushed in appreciation at his attention, her eyes alight with kindness, and the ready smile she gave freely.

His brother's voice sounded in his mind about the detriments of sentiment. And not for the first time, Sherlock discounted Mycroft's advice. He… liked Molly Hooper.

And perhaps… just perhaps… he could win her over as Sherlock before she found out he was Mister Holmes. It sounded ridiculous and it was likely to blow up in his face, but as he saw the kindness and intelligence in her eyes, he decided it was worth the risk.

He reached over and covered her hand.

'That's kind of you to say, but it's awfully dull, to be honest. I'd rather hear about your work. Is it true you're as brilliant as John and Mary say you are?'

John snorted into his coffee. Sherlock glared at him in reproach before turning a smile on the woman beside him. Her cheeks were rosy from his flirtations and she averted her eyes shyly under his gaze.

It may be easier to win her over than I thought.