Chapter 1

It was a week after John and Mary's wedding, they were currently at their honeymoon, and Sherlock was bored out of his mind, he'd already shot new holes in the wall, poisoned the stray cat on Baker Street five times, and annoyed Lestrade with new texts every few minutes asking for a case.

Finally Lestrade contacted him, there'd been a murder, a most exciting one by the sound of it, Sherlock swiftly put on his Belstaff coat and his trusted blue scarf, before exiting through the door of 221B Baker Street.

He hauled in a taxi and left the address with the driver, "St. Barts. Please, as fast as you can." The driver just nodded and drove off, half way to his destination Sherlock remembered something very uncomfortable, a couple of days ago Molly, the pathologist at St. Barts. and her fiancée had broken up, he scoffed, no doubt would he have to listen to her quite sobs, and that was not something he was looking forward to.

The detective inspector was waiting outside the morgue as the taxi turned around the corner; Sherlock handed over money to the taxi driver and exited the taxi, pacing quickly to Lestrades side. They walked through the doors and encountered Dr. Stamford, "where's Molly?" Lestrade asked at Sherlock side.

"Oh, um, she's not here" he said before quickly scurrying into his office, Sherlock let out another scoff, he was stating the obvious, which Sherlock despised, he walked to the dead body, he didn't have the time to wonder where Molly was, she was probably just crying, and he was happy it wasn't in his presence.

A week had gone by, Molly wasn't back, and Sherlock didn't notice, John and Mary had finally returned, thankfully the week had not been slow, loads of murders to solve, and Sherlock was in a good mood when John came to see him, "had a nice couple of weeks then, yeah?" John asked as he sat in his chair of preference. "Marvellous, there have been enough murders to keep me busy for the last week, of course none of them took me too long to solve," Sherlock answered matter of factly.

John smirked, he was happy Sherlock had not decided to call him every hour, and even though he was sure he'd annoyed the poor Lestrade, he didn't exactly share Sherlock's happiness of all the murdered and dead people. "You haven't pressed Lestrade or poor Molly too much have, you?" John asked, already knowing the answer.

"Well i'm sure Lestrade has seen me enough for the rest of the month, and Molly haven't been at work since you two left." Sherlock said now busy with an experiment. John unlike Sherlock wondered where Molly could be, he would ask Mary when he got home, she'd be sure to know. The rest of the day was uneventful, but thankfully Sherlock had not turned sour before John left.

John returned home in time for dinner, Mary had made chicken and rice, seasoned with curry, which just so happened to be one of Johns favourite spices. They watched telly together on the couch, talked about their days, and simply just enjoyed each others company as always. It wasn't until they were snugly in bed John remembered the mystery about Molly, "Darling, you haven't by any chance heard from Molly?" He inquired.

Mary looked at her husband with a puzzled look in her eyes, "no I haven't, why, is something the matter?" She asked he could see she was curious as to why he was asking. "Apparently she hasn't been at St. Barts. For the last two weeks, and no one's heard from her either, now i'm sure she's fine, i'm just wondering where she could possibly be." He told his wife nonchalantly.

The next day Mary had started asking people at the hospital about Molly's whereabouts, no one questioned her motives as she was one of Molly's closest friends, but Mary did not succeed, so she went to see her husband and his *not so caring* friend at Baker Street.

Mary arrived by taxi at Baker Street and went up the stairs, she'd gotten used to letting herself in, and the door was almost never locked. She'd decided to take it to the Consulting Detective as his next case, she new John was usually able to talk Sherlock into taking cases he wasn't really interested in, and she hoped this was one of those times, she didn't really know what to think had happened to her dear friend, she just hoped it wasn't something bad.

Sherlock groaned when she'd stated her case, telling him he needed to go look for her, if not to get her back home, then to at least let Mary and John know she was alright. After over an hour trying to persuade him with her pleas, Sherlock finally gave in, he threw up his arms in defeat, and stalked into his room, leaving Mary and John to fend for themselves.