~ October ~

"Aren't you going in fancy dress?" John asked blandly, looking his friend up and down.

Mary, moll to John's dapper 30's gangster, gave an amused snort, and Molly, feeling lovely in Renaissance velvet, lace, and pearls, giggled, though she also cast a sympathetic and somewhat nervous look at Sherlock, who had begun to scowl. It had taken a great deal of persuasion to get Sherlock to agree to attend the Yard's annual Halloween bash at all, as John well knew, and Molly feared he might refuse even yet, with the cab already pulled up outside 221B.

It was true that he didn't look too much different than usual, with his black suit, white shirt, and pale skin. The slicked back hair was the main difference, and the cape, though his Belstaff had virtually the same effect.

But now he narrowed his eyes, and his slow smile revealed startlingly realistic fangs. He said, in a spot-on Bela Lugosi accent, "Take care, little man. The night is young, and my thirst is unquenchable."

"Oh ho!" John grinned. "Very good!"

"Should've brought a wooden stake instead of a tommy gun," Mary commented. "But at least we're wearing high collars. Molly's the one in real trouble."

Molly, suddenly all too aware of the deep cut decolletage of her velvet gown, blushed, but said, lightly, "No, no, the Count and I are just friends. Come on! Mrs. Hudson's downstairs ready to take our picture, and the cab's waiting at the curb!"

o-o-o

"Just friends, eh?" Mary said, several hours, many drinks, and much dancing later.

Sherlock and John were at the curb, flagging down another cab to take them home, while Mary and Molly hung back in the shelter of the overhang, out of the light rain.

Molly avoided Mary's laughing eyes. "You mean when Sherlock and I stepped out for a bit? You know how he is about parties. He needed a breather, and I popped into the loo. We didn't miss much."

"Didn't miss anything, from the state of your neck. Did he take his fangs off before giving you that love bite?"

Molly gasped and hurriedly wrapped her shawl much higher, shrouding her neck and chest.

But Mary chuckled. "No, he didn't really leave evidence - not that kind."

"Oh!You… Wh-what kind did he leave, then? We weren't gone that long!"

"Long enough to be well snogged, which was fairly evident, to me at least. Was that your first time?"

Molly considered pokering up and refusing to reply, but then thought better of it. "No, we've… snogged before. But we're taking it slowly."

"Slowly! What has it been, seven years since he first invaded your morgue?"

And my heart, Molly could not help thinking, ruefully.

"I'm not an idiot, though," Mary assured her, putting an arm about her shoulders and giving her a brief hug. "The elusive Consulting Detective must be stalked with the greatest stealth and care. I won't tease him. And I frankly admire you."

Molly frowned. "You do?"

"Of course." Mary tossed a brilliant smile at Sherlock and John as they turned to beckon their ladies to the cab they'd snagged, and said to Molly, surreptitiously, "With that kind of patience, you must be a bona fide saint!"