This Sherlock is inspired by the sassy & emotional Sherlock from the unaired pilot. I also like to think that he's the smart Sherlock, because he actually kind of was what I'd always imagined Sherlock as being when I read the stories as a kid. Yes, the pilot ruined the rest of the series for me, save for S2.2...

It's an AU based around Sassysmartlock's remarks at Angelo's. Is that what girlfriends do? Feed you up?

Answer: yes. Yes exactly.

Enjoy!

"Ah, coffee! Thank you, Molly."

His new flatmate had concealed much of his own life while mysteriously knowing quite a lot about John's. He hadn't even known the man's name, Sherlock Holmes, until he was just nearly out the door.

He reminded John a little of an automaton, a robot made to be curiously human but still missing something. It was in this way that John also missed something in trying to assess this person he believed to be slightly non-human—by making assumptions rather than taking assessments.

He missed the warm greeting given to the woman, and the genuine confusion in his voice about her make-up, and his pleasant thank-you. He missed the distance between Stamford and Sherlock and the closeness between the man and the woman who brought him coffee. He missed the disinterest in Mr. Holmes' greeting and interaction with Stamford. The fact that a man noticed a woman's makeup went completely over John's head. And all of that was just the obvious stuff, the things anyone could have noticed.

But because he missed all of these things, he was deeply surprised when the woman from the hospital was also at Sherlock's flat the next evening. Although he did notice that she was wearing lipstick as his flatmate introduced her.

"John Watson, this is my girlfriend Molly. Off-limits, Mr. War Veteran. She's a lab-tech at St. Bart's—Mike introduced us," Sherlock managed to say before he started in on the flat itself, saying that he'd loved it too much, he'd had to move in immediately. John was suddenly self-conscious and nervous—why did a man with a girlfriend need a flatmate when he could probably move in with the woman in question?

"Sherlock," Molly whispered, laying a hand briefly on the dark haired man's shoulder before going to the kitchen to make tea. And that is when John really missed everything. He didn't see that Sherlock immediately stilled when Molly touched him, as though her touch grounded him suddenly and completely. He didn't see that Molly knew where the cups for the tea were but not the tea itself. He failed to notice that Sherlock omitted Molly's surname. He didn't remember the interaction yesterday in any detail whatsoever other than it had happened so he didn't recall the things he should have—the warmth in Sherlock's greeting was surprised in its nature which indicated a newer relationship but the genuine thanks coming from his lips revealed a relationship out of its infancy. He didn't remember seeing the twist of Molly's hands after giving Sherlock the coffee, the right grabbing at the fingers and knuckles of the left, and therefore couldn't make the conclusion that Molly was either afraid of marriage or living in hopes of it.

Instead, John was looking around the flat and trying to appraise why Sherlock Holmes needed a flatmate when he had a perfectly good girlfriend. He was looking, but not seeing.

"Sherlock, did you eat at all today?"

"Not a thing," Sherlock answered her before turning to John and starting a short tour of the flat. "Now, with your cane and your limp, I would offer you the bedroom down here but I do fear that limp of yours is most definitely psychosomatic and so you'll be upstairs in the other bedroom. It's bigger anyway, and I like small rooms. Plenty of closing doors and thick, old walls, too, so I'll never hear you or your conquests in a million years and you won't be as put-off by the violin then too."

"And yesterday?" Molly asked Sherlock paused for breath. The dark haired man blinked owlishly towards the kitchen, genuinely perplexed for a moment before he answered.

"Just the coffee you gave me—and it did have sugar in it, I shouldn't have to remind you. Mrs. Hudson gave me some biscuits on Monday, though, I'll be fine until morning."

And this is what John noticed. He hobbled closer to his potential flatmate and stared up into his eyes, bewildered and slightly amazed.

"Wait—are you saying you haven't eaten in two days?"

"This is why he needs a flatmate, Dr. Watson," Molly called out from the kitchen, clanking pans out of the cupboards and putting them on the stove to boil. Once she had everything sorted, she wiped her hands on a towel and came back into the living room with a tiny smile.

"I can't be over here all the time to feed him up and make sure that he doesn't starve himself too badly," she said to John as she put a hand on Sherlock's arm. "And Sherlock, we agreed! No more than forty hours without—"

"Was on a case on Monday night and all of yesterday, Molly, eating would have slowed me down," Sherlock said with a smile just as the doorbell rang. His smile, John was disturbed to find, turned gleefully feral.

"And that would be Lestrade—been a fifth suicide, I'd say. Got to be going, Molly, don't wait up alright? If you want me to eat you'd best be here in the morning—" the doorbell rang again, this time twice.

"Sherlock! I have work tomorrow, I can't possibly!" John could see quite a domestic brewing and cleared his throat to get their attention. The rent might be low here at 221B, but he was starting to think that if he lived here, he would have it on very hard terms. But somehow this sounded lovely—interesting and exciting in a way his life hadn't been since the war. Yes, he could definitely get into this. The doorbell went again.

"I could go with him and make sure he eats at some point tonight, if you'd like?" Sherlock frowned a little as though he'd been betrayed in the worst way, but Molly broke out into a smile.

"Well, I'll just put supper away then after I let Greg in, shall I?"

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