A/N: This was written for Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017 on Tumblr. This covers both Day 1 ("The moment you started shipping") and Day 2 ("Season 1" and "First Date"). Molly asking Sherlock out for coffee is when I started shipping them, so this is my response to that.

As soon as they got back from the Chinese restaurant, Sherlock flopped onto the sitting room couch and immediately went into his Mind Palace to sort through the details of the past couple of days. Every important detail was sorted into an appropriate room – "Cases," "new flatmate – John," "Mycroft," etc. One detail, however, stubbornly refused to be sorted – Molly offering coffee when he saw her at Bart's.

It's an insignificant detail, he thought. She's brought me coffee half a dozen times before, what makes this any… His eyes shot open. Oh. She wasn't offering to bring me coffee, she wanted to go out for coffee. A date. He groaned quietly. I never pick up on those things when they happen. This means the lipstick was for me. Damn… What do I do now?

The sound of typing alerted him to his flatmate's presence. Sherlock looked over to see John at the desk, typing ever so slowly on his laptop. The world's only consulting detective rolled his eyes. How can a grown man in this day and age not know how to type properly? I suppose I'll have to teach him at some point, but that can wait for when I'm not having a minor crisis. "What do you do when a woman asks you out and you're completely oblivious?"

John looked up from his laptop, his eyes glazed. "Sorry, what?"

Sherlock groaned in frustration as he got up and walked over to his flatmate. "Molly Hooper, John. I had no idea she was asking me out."

"That woman from the lab? She asked you out? When?"

"'That woman' is a pathologist, the only decent one at Bart's. She asked me out to coffee yesterday. I thought she was just offering to bring me coffee but it appears I was mistaken."

"Oh, that." John chuckled. "Yeah, she was asking you out. I thought you knew what she was doing and decided to act obtuse."

"Do you think that's what she thought?" he asked worriedly. "She's the only pathologist who is still willing to work with me. I don't want anything to compromise that."

"I think she thought you were being obtuse, no acting required." He raised an eyebrow. "It was calling her lips 'too small' that hurt her feelings."

"I was merely stating a fact," Sherlock said quietly. "The lipstick did improve how her lips looked."

John rolled his eyes. "If you want to apologize so she'll keep working with you, I suggest you ask her out for coffee." When Sherlock reached for his mobile on the coffee table, John added, "But not right now, it's after midnight."

"Tomorrow's her day off, that means she's up late reading some mind-numbing romance novel in bed."

"And you know this how?" John asked, then thought better of it. "Never mind, I don't want to hear how you deduced it once. Fine, ask her now, but make the date for a decent hour tomorrow."

"Of course," Sherlock said. He sat in his chair then sent Molly a text.

12:09a Coffee? SH

12:13a Sherlock, are you in the lab? I'm not there, I'm at home. You'll have to get it yourself. Molly

12:14a I know you're at home. I was asking if you wanted to have coffee with me. SH

12:18a Now? Molly

12:19a Not now, you'll never sleep tonight if you have caffeine at this hour. I meant tomorrow. SH

12:23a Technically, it is tomorrow. Molly

Sherlock would swear he heard her giggling. He rolled his eyes.

12:24a This is getting us nowhere. Do you want to have coffee with me in the morning or not? SH

12:28a I do, I do. What time? Molly

12:29a 10? SH

12:34a Nine would be better for me. Molly

12:35a Any number in the single digits is too early for me. SH

"You should go with the time she suggested," John said, reading over his shoulder.

Sherlock glared up at him, annoyed. "Do you mind? This is hard enough as it is."

"I'm just saying her day is a lot more structured than yours."

"Tomorrow is her day off, like I said."

"Yes, but people plan things for their day off. You want to stay on her good side, remember?"

Sherlock scowled down at his phone and sent another text.

12:39a Nine it is. Where? SH

12:43a There's a Starbucks a couple of blocks from you. Molly

12:44a I detest American coffee but alright. SH

12:48a See you there! :) Molly

"I also detest emoticons in texts," Sherlock muttered.

John tried to hide his grin but another glare from Sherlock had him laughing.

The next morning, several thuds and muffled cursing coming from Sherlock's bedroom convinced John that he needed to check on his flatmate. His knock on the door was answered by several more thuds. "Sherlock? Are you alright?"

John was about to knock again when the door was suddenly yanked open by a shirtless Sherlock, who looked to be just short of panicking. The army doctor noticed with relief that his flatmate was wearing trousers. Dark grey designer trousers, no less. He could see the matching jacket draped over the footboard of the bed. A chuckle escaped him when he realized what Sherlock's dilemma was.

"Can't decide on a shirt?" he asked, grinning.

Sherlock scowled at him. "If all you're going to do is laugh, you can leave." He went back to the closet.

John rolled his eyes but followed him in to the bedroom and over to the closet. The sheer number of suits and shirts on display was mind-boggling to a man who had, until recently, worn a uniform his entire adult life, and he noticed that all of them were designer. John raised an eyebrow. "You were saying something about needing help with the rent?"

Sherlock mumbled something about budgeting then looked over his shirts with a critical eye. "I've narrowed it down to black, white, teal, and aubergine."

"Aubergine?" John asked, smirking. "Can't you just say 'purple' like every other bloke?"

"Because it's not purple, purple has more red in it," Sherlock insisted.

"Whatever," John muttered. "It's just coffee, why are you so hung up about what you're wearing?"

"Taking care with my appearance shows I respect Molly, according to my research."

"Research, right." John rolled his eyes again. "Not the black, it'll make you look like a priest."

"Right. White?"

"You're going out for coffee. How confident are you that you won't spill any on yourself?"

Sherlock looked down at his hands, which John noticed were trembling slightly, presumably from nerves. "Teal, then."

John smiled a bit. "Good choice." He glanced at his watch and grinned. "Better hurry, you've only got fifteen minutes."

"Bloody hell…" Sherlock grabbed the teal shirt and put it on then put on the jacket and practically ran from the room, buttoning the shirt as he went.

John followed him at a much more leisurely pace, laughing. He went downstairs and watched Sherlock put on his Belstaff and scarf before racing out the door.

"Hope you appreciate his efforts, Molly," John said, smiling a bit.

Sherlock walked through the doors of the Starbucks one minute after nine. He immediately scanned the coffeeshop for Molly and found her at a table in the back with her nose in a book and two drinks in front of her. The sight of her made the tension that he'd felt since the night before evaporate. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to her. As he got closer, he realized she was reading Pride and Prejudice.

"Excellent choice of reading material," he said by way of greeting as he took off his scarf and Belstaff and hung them on a nearby hook on the wall before sitting down across from her.

Molly smiled at him, pleasantly surprised. "You like Pride and Prejudice?"

Sherlock nodded. "Mum insisted that I read it when I was seventeen. She said that every girl, deep down, wants a Mr. Darcy and if I'm to understand girls at all, I need to understand him." He picked up the cup closest to him. "I assume this one's mine."

Molly smiled a bit, amused. "Yes, a Tall two-sugar Americano for the tall, bittersweet Brit."

Sherlock smirked at her description then took a tentative sip and grinned. "Finally, a coffeeshop that knows how to make a decent cup. The barista should get a raise."

Molly giggled. "I told her that if you like it, you're sure to be a regular. So, um, did reading P&P help you understand girls?"

"Just the Bennet sisters, I'm afraid." He took another sip. "All the girls I went to school and uni with were more interested in movie stars than Regency Era literary characters."

Molly sipped her coffee. "Well, it takes a certain level of maturity to appreciate Mr. Darcy."

Sherlock smiled a bit. "You were fifteen when you first fancied him."

She smiled back, blushing slightly. "You're good, yes. It was a school assignment. My friends were bored by the book but I was enchanted." She ducked her head, concentrating on her coffee. "Mr. Darcy became my ideal man – tall, dark-haired, handsome, and aloof at first but endless passion just below the surface."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and was about to say something when he noticed the names scrawled on their cups – Molly's said "Lizzie" and his said "Darcy."

Interesting… When Molly finally raised her head to look at him, he smiled a bit. "So, same time next week? I'll be sure to bring my copy."

Molly blinked in surprise then her face lit up. "I'd love that."

"It's a date."