The Pursuit of the Ideal.

There was a small apartment that Sherlock Holmes used as a bolt hole to hide from the world. Tiny, even by London standards, the single bedroom, single bath and small living area was joined by what was generously referred to as a kitchen. It's housed worn,'antique' furniture that would once have been described as plush but now was considered worn in all the right places. The small space called and welcomed him to sit and settle in into it as siren would bid a sailor to slip into the sea. And it's mistress, while no siren herself was a spectacularly obliging hostess to her wayfaring guest. Always there with a warm cup of coco or something stronger depending on the night where the two would sit and chat late into the night while he avoided whatever trouble lay outside the doors of what he refers to as his 'snuggery'. They spoke of childhoods, of books, of family and eventual aspirations, but never the present. Never what evil was lurking out there for him on danger nights, and never about their professional relationship. No, this was a unique unspoken agreement. In this time they were just friends: Sherlock and Molly. His visits weren't regular, and never scheduled but both parties certainly enjoyed the simple, quiet time together till he felt ready to brave the world once more.

It was on such a night where Sherlock Holmes could be found stretching himself out in an easy chair, letting out a tremendous groan of comfort.

"Molly, this chair is one of the most comfortable spots on all the world." He sighed once more.

Molly smiles "My Uncle Larry was fond of that chair. Aunt Maud said it fit the lazy mans kinks just right."

"I am not a lazy man." He denied. "You Molly of all people know that."

"I like being a lazy person too, you knows. " She laughed handing him a cup of coco with a peppermint in it. He allowed himself to smile I return.

" Thank you." He drank for a moment. " You really are a good friend to me. Im so comfortable being here with you, discussing things with you."

Molly blushed a bit as she drank deeply from her own mug.

"And you something to tell me today don't you Sherlock? Oh we both know you do. Come on then. Let's hear your confession detective." She held her breath. Not allowing herself to hope for longer than a breath that he'd say she meant more than a cup of coco and a comfy spot to crash to him.

He got to his feet as a gravely serious look over took him. "Molly, I have found my Ideal."

The small woman kept her eyes him, unable to respond. What was he saying?

Sitting down once more he spoke again. " You see there, right there? You have a certain genius sometimes for silence Molly. If you asked the stupid questions like John always does, then I wouldn't get the satisfaction of telling you everything myself. Bravo Molly!"

His hostess remained quiet and he took it as a sign to continue.

"Your remember of course? That night we discussed what our ideal partner would be? "

Molly would never forget. They'd laid at opposite ends of her bed and he had told her of the woman of his dreams. He described a Venus. Tall, slender, chestnut brown hair that shone, with the hint of a ripple to it. That he'd thought of the tone her skin must be ( ivory, of course bearing the expression of a Madonna) on an oval shaped face had amused her a bit. Eyes a peaceful blue, but deep and as tender as an evening sky. Then they had laughed because such a woman couldn't exist. A fantasy. One that, given his desire to stay committed to his work was little more than leftovers from childhood fairy tale princess that, he the brave knight would rescue.

Molly had even been slightly at peace with her desire for the handsome detective. She was short, and her hair was a light mousy brown and straight as straw. Her completion dark and freckled. As for her eyes, the resembled a dark night rather than a twilight lit evening. Knowing she would never be what he wanted had freed her to let him go. Most of the time she believed it too.

"Molly? Are you alright?" She asked with a turn of his head.

"What? Oh. OH! Yes, just a bit shocked! Do tell me how you met her. Go on then."

Sherlock frowned. Molly's expression was solemn, not her normal peaceful gaze. Yet,in the same moment she looked as though she might be laughing at him. Women.

"My brother called me in on a highly secret case, I went to go see a... Well a woman who is saving some sensitive materials that I needed to obtain. But Molly, she was so stunningly beautiful! I laid eyes on her and knew she was something incredible. We even made plans to have dinner soon." He was so nearly joyous.

"Do perfect women with Madonna faces eat?" She asked in a joking tone. Anything to hide that she was dying inside.

Clearing his throat he stood once more. "I will confess to you Molly that I did not expect you of all people to make fun of me about this. " His voice turned cold. "It's unlike you. I'm not telling you anymore about it. Lest it bore you. I need to get back to Baker Street anyways."

He grabbed his signature coat and scarf and swirled them on. When his hand turned the knob she called out.

"Sherlock, wait! That was horrid of me! I shouldn't have laughed I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Forgive me?" She managed a weak smile.

Holding her eyes, weighing her seriousness. He finally nodded, but still set out to leave.

"Aren't you at least going to tell me your Ideals name?" She called out.

"Irene. Irene Adler." And he pulled the door shut behind him.

A/N : I would have listed this as a cross over if LM Montgomery's short story had been listed. The inspiration is all her on the situation that I've thrown Sir, Arthur Conan Doyals Sherlock and SM/MG Molly Hooper. I own nothing of any of them.

If you wish for spoilers, the story is found I the At The Alter collection of her short stories. Or you can wait for the second of 3 installments. Soon. Very soon.