Here's another Sherlock piece that's just been sitting in my files, so I thought I'd just go ahead and post it. I really love the Sherlock and Molly pairing, I find it oh so sweet, so I wanted to make somewhat of a contribution to the fandom! Anyways, enjoy!

Molly slowly walked along the examination tables, checking her notes as she passed each corpse.

Yep, she had brought out the right ones. All with nine millimeter bullet hole wounds to the forehead and the same symbol branded on the back of their necks.

Earlier this morning, Sherlock had asked, well more like told her, to bring out the bodies for the current case he was working on, and of course, Molly somewhat happily obliged to the consulting detectives wishes.

She felt somewhat like a silly schoolgirl. Sherlock had complimented her on the way she had put her hair up into a bun instead of her usual ponytail before asking her about the bodies, so naturally Molly had felt a tad giddy after that.

She stopped and turned, looking over the corpses before her, contemplating their involvement with whatever crime scheme was happening around London. While prepping them, she had tried her best to notice miniscule details like Sherlock could do with a simple glance, but alas the only really noticeable similarities were that all the bodies were males in their forties, and the matching injuries.

Just then the door opened.

"Sherlock, how could you, or anyone else know what really happened? You weren't there or even alive then!"

Molly recognized John Watson's voice. She quickly turned around to find the familiar pair striding into the room.

"I honestly don't see why anyone is making such a fuss over it..." the consulting detective murmured, not saying anything to Molly or even glancing at her. He briskly approached the nearest corpse and began to examine it.

She didn't mind too much, this was typical Sherlock, focused only on the case and...whatever he and John were talking about.

"Well people tend to get curious about the situation candid photos like that are taken in" John pointed out, coming to stand next to Molly, folding his arms across his chest. "And some are even considering it harassment..."

Molly's gaze flickered from John, to Sherlock, then back to John. "I'm sorry...what kind of photo are you talking about?" She asked, slightly hesitant as she didn't want to butt into anything serious, but curiosity got the best of her.

John turned to Molly after eying Sherlock. "You know that really popular photo taken after World War II was announced over and there's a couple kissing in Time Square?"

The pathologist nodded. "Yeah, I know that one!" Molly actually had a small copy hanging on her bedroom wall. She thought it was a sweet picture of the couple sharing a moment of excitement

"Well there's been some speculation floating about that says that the kiss was too forceful and that the man in the photo is holding her against her will at a painful angle" John went on to explain.

"Honestly...do people have anything better to do than get all worked up over frivolous photographs?" came Sherlock's mild complaint as he moved on to the next corpse with a swish of his long coat.

Molly watched his tall form maneuver around the table. It was always fascinating to watch him work...his aquamarine eyes would always turn a lighter shade of jade as he peered through is pocket magnifying glass.

"Besides..." the detective added. "Although the kiss was indeed forced, it was not an act of harassment. It was simply an act of spontaneous joy. The woman is clearly in no pain whatsoever."

"Now how can you know that?" John inquired skeptically.

A sigh mixed with a light groan escaped the detective's mouth. He straightened and faced the other two. "Honestly John, it's not that difficult..."

"Well...how can you tell for certain?" Molly asked. She thought she saw Sherlock roll his eyes for a split second.

Sherlock then strode over and stood in front of John with Molly to his left.

"If you actually paid close attention to the photo, it's obvious that the woman was simply caught off guard by the surprise kiss. Her body is relaxed and there's no show of a leading struggle. Really John, you could at least notice that!"

John sighed, still unconvinced.

Sherlock huffed in slight frustration. "Watch."

Suddenly the tall detective, turned and faced Molly. Then his hand went to the small of her back and quickly pulled her forward to him. He then nearly slammed his mouth onto her's, her body bending back as his other arm coming up so that her head rested in the crook of his elbow, just like in the photo.

Molly felt her legs go weak, and if Sherlock hadn't been holding her up, she would've all but fallen to the floor. Her stomach dropped and her heart began to thunder from within her chest.

Sherlock Holmes, the brilliant and aloof consulting detective, the very same that Molly had admired for so long, was kissing her.

Her eyes fluttered closed and her arms fell limply at her sides. His lips were soft and warm against her's...surely this was all a dream. Molly wanted to return the kiss, but she felt as if all her limbs and body couldn't work anymore.

All too soon, Sherlock's lips parted from her's. His eyes, now a blazing mix of pea green and ocean blue, locked into her's for a moment. Then he straightened and casually adjusted his coat.

John stood there, his mouth hanging agape and his eyes nearly bugging out of his head.

Molly was breathless, and she could feel her face begin to heat up. Did that really just happen..?

Sherlock cleared his throat. "See? That's how it happened..." He gave a nod to Molly. "Thank you Molly for your assistance...with the, uh, the bodies" Sherlock turned and began to walk out the door.

John stood there for a moment, perplexed as to what he had just seen. He shook his head, mumbled a "good-bye" to Molly, then followed his flatmate out of the door.

Molly stood there, rooted to the spot. Her mind reeled and she felt as if she were floating on a cloud. She would never be able to look at that photo the same way ever again...

The two men walked silently through the hallways of the morgue. John still couldn't wrap his head around what had just happened. True it hadn't been a sentimental kiss, but still seeing Sherlock just kiss someone...and Molly of all people, who both of them knew had fancied Sherlock for quite some time now...John eyed his friend.

Sherlock still wore the same placid, stoic mask that he always had while deep in thought. Most would assume he was focused on a case if they didn't know any better.

"Sherlock...are you blushing?"

"Of course not, don't be daft!" The detective quickly retorted.

A smug smile crept onto John's face, he swore he saw his friend's cheek turn a shade pinker.

"Merely a demonstration John..."

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