"This is interesting from a scientific standpoint at least," Sherlock said as he cupped Molly's breasts (his, really, given the way things were at the moment) and lifted them a bit. Molly hit him with a rolled up newspaper on the side of the head for doing so. They were sat at one of the few tables ANGELO'S put outside on sunny days, and the Italian restaurateur had been so happy when "Sherlock" ordered food for two people for once, not just his date.

"Don't touch my boobies!" Molly cried in Sherlock's voice. She then speared one of the meatballs on his plate and chomped on it angrily. Sherlock could see that in the distance Angelo looked giddy and happy about "Sherlock" enjoying his ragù alla bolognese.

"Molly, they're hardly your boobies as they are on the body I'M in!" Sherlock hissed back. "Besides," he muttered, "it's not like there's muchof them to touch, anyway,"

That earned Sherlock another newpaper to the head. Why did Angelo even have newspapers lying around on his restaurant tables? Sherlock wondered. The detective's eyes went to the ancient grandfather clock in one corner of the establishment. Oh, right. His and Molly's trip to Baskerville had taken all day and all night yesterday (John was working with Greg and Mycroft at WhiteHall this time), and it was now breakfast time for the rest of London. Honestly, why did people have to eat so often? Weaklings.

Unfortunately for "Sherlock", Angelo chose that exact moment to serve them their drinks. "Now, Sherlock, I am grateful to you for getting me off that murder charge, but if you hit your nice lady friend again I will have to ask you to leave and return only when you've relearned your cavalleria, eh? We Italians treat our women like Roman goddesses, you know! From our madres, le nostri mogli, le nostri figlie —"

Sherlock rolled his eyes as Angelo continued his rant in Italian. As for "Sherlock", his face had taken on a pink tinge which, bizarrely enough, looked good on "him". Sherlock watched transfixed, his trance only broken when Angelo touched his shoulder and presented him with a nice, heaping bowl of gelato al cioccolato.

Angelo smiled at "Molly" and said, "Compliments of the house, signorina." Angelo then glared daggers at "Sherlock", gestured at "him" and continued, "Sherlock is a genius but he is a boor and does not appreciate beauty and grace when he sees it. You look a lot like my daughter, Vittoria. If Sherlock gives you trouble again, you call me, okay?" Angelo took the newspaper from "Sherlock"'s hands and hit an unresisting "Sherlock" three times on the head with it. Hard. "Oh, and Sherlock, today you pay. Sixty-three pounds for everything, excluding the signorina's free dessert. Maybe next time you treat her better, hmm?"

Sherlock looked at his Italian friend with a new admiration and asked Molly to hand his wallet over to him. He then took out a hundred pounds and put it on the table, putting the wine bottle / candle holder on top of the money to make sure it won't fly off.

"He's a nice man," Molly said, her hand taking Sherlock's on the table. "You're lucky you have such nice friends, Sherlock."

Sherlock squeezed Molly's hand back. "Indeed, I am. Would you like to share? Angelo's gelato is divine. Angelo doesn't put it up, but this place actually has three Michelin stars."

Molly moved her chair so that it was next to Sherlock's and the two took turns eating the ice cream off of one spoon.

After several turns, Molly noticed that a little cream had gotten on Sherlock's cheek so she wiped it off with the pad of her thumb, making Sherlock blush. Was this what she looked like whenever he was near? She wondered. Hmm. Apparently so. Molly felt her own (well, Sherlock's) cheeks warm. She shook her head to clear it and asked, "So, when do you think we will switch back?" She tried not to sound too worried, but she wasn't going to make any bets.

Sherlock leaned back on his seat and sighed. "I've already texted Mycroft, and because he and Graham Lestrade are shagging, he will be told not to give me any cases for at least the next few days. Anthea and her team are already working on making a similar machine with an inverse polarity but that will take at least 48 hours, even with CERN's help. Ugh, this puts such a damper on my plans!" he growled.

Molly leaned back into her own seat and crossed her arms over her now-masculine chest. "Well, I'm sorry. It wasn't my idea to break into Baskerville to poke around. Also, do you know how frustrating it was for me to go to the toilet while my eyes were closed just so I wouldn't see…" she gestured to her (now-male) crotch.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I've nothing to be ashamed of," Sherlock boasted.

That made Molly giggle, until gradually her snickers turned into full-on laughter.

"What?!"

"Only you would manage to brag at a time like this. Only you, Sherlock Holmes,"

"I'm not bragging! I'm stating facts!"

Molly crouched in on herself, her laughter taking over her. Sherlock saw Angelo shake his head at them good-naturedly before going back to wiping up the counter. What really got Sherlock though was the hearty nature of Molly's laughter, even in the guise of Sherlock's form. Her laugh was so carefree and so real, it touched Sherlock's heart.

Sherlock stood up and sat on Molly's lap, not thinking of the public setting. He then placed his hands on Molly's shoulders, making her look up at him. He then leaned in to whisper into Molly's ear. "When we go back to normal, I will kiss you. I don't want to kiss my own face. I'm notthat narcissistic,"

That made Molly guffaw again, her arms going around his middle. She looked up at the face Sherlock was wearing and nodded. "I know what you mean. Let's hope Mycroft and his army of assistants are hurrying to make the machine,"

Sherlock put his arms around Molly and hugged her. "Me, too, Molly. Me, too. Your boobies are actually excellent but this wasn't how I planned to get inside your body, you know."

"SHERLOCK!"