Stone in Love is one of my all time favorite Journey songs. I know I'm aging myself here with a song that was released in 1981, but I don't care, even a little bit... it rocks my socks (how very 80's of me!)

This will be a two parter. I own nothing here except some threadbare concert tees and EVERYTHING Journey recorded on vinyl, cassette (yes they once made those) and cd, up to the Departure (that's me being cheeky, sorry youngins... Departure is the name of a Journey album) of Mr. Steve Perry. I have very strong feelings about that subject.

Thank you MizJoely for betaing this. She works with me Patiently and Faithfully... get it? (More Journey song titles.) Okay, fine, I'll stop. Starting to annoy myself. Enjoy!

"MAAAWLY!"

Molly looked up from the culture she was studying as soon as she heard her name (or something like her name) coming from the corridor outside the path lab. It was almost eleven pm (the end of her shift), so of course something outrageous was about to happen.

"MAAAWLY!"

She got up and started for the door but suddenly it burst open. John Watson came in dragging Sherlock Holmes along with him. He was clearly high and sporting a busted lip.

Dear Lord, not again, she thought. "What the hell has he done now?"

"He's been drugged... again," John explained.

"Obliously," Sherlock slurred.

Molly sighed. "With what?"

"So bootiful... she's so bootiful," Sherlock babbled, to no one in particular.

John propped the drugged detective up on a bench. "No idea."

Sherlock started humming. Molly looked at John as if she needed more of an explanation.

"This is nothing, he sang about dancing and dusty roads and rivers, all the way here." He shook himself at the memory. "Anyway, like I was saying, they emptied the syringe in him, then it got crushed in the fight." Molly's eyes flashed with concern. "Don't worry Greg got them, but we need to find out what it was."

"Sorry John, I can rush the results but a tox screen will take at least eighteen to twenty-four hours."

He huffed. "That's what I thought. Well it's better than nothing, go ahead and draw some blood and run it if you don't mind."

"I dunna mind, Molly can have anyfing she wants," Sherlock said with a goofy grin on his face. "Ready has ma heart."

The doctors stared at him for a moment.

"Wha?" he asked, then reached up and booped Molly's nose. "Look at dat nose... soooo cute."

Molly slowly turned to John, her eyes popping. "So, I'll just, um... get the ah..." she trailed off as she went to get the necessary supplies.

John took Sherlock by the shoulders. "Look at me mate. How do you feel?" he asked trying to get an idea of what his best friend had been given.

"Fan-flucking-tastic," Sherlock said with a giggle, then he got serious. "Dushe like me?" he asked as he put his hands on John's arms.

John shook his head. It would take some unknown drug to get Sherlock to decide he likes Molly Hooper, he thought. "Try to control yourself, yeah?"

"Plhhh, control... too much control... dunt wan control. Wan Molly," he said looking around desperately for the pathologist. "Where'd she go, so tiny... she's easy to lose... I keep losing her Don."

John chuckled. "I know," he said. "I just wish you weren't stoned right now."

Sherlock got a far off look in his eyes. "I'm stone in love, Don," he said wistfully.

Just then Molly showed up with a collection of vials, a butterfly needle, a tourniquet and tubing. It was clear that she was prepared for a difficult draw, knowing Sherlock's drug history. "Okay Sherlock. I need to take your blood. Can you sit still long enough for me to do that?" she asked in a very patronizing tone.

He was nodding his head the whole time she was speaking.

She giggled. "Okay. Take off your coat and jacket for me?" As she busied herself prepping her supplies and putting on her gloves, she heard John curse under his breath and looked up to see Sherlock shrugging out of his shirt.

"Damn it Sherlock, she didn't say anything about your shirt," he said trying to pull the detective's shirt back on as Sherlock was taking it off.

"Molly dunnit mind. Do you, Molly?" Sherlock preened.

John gave up the fight and tossed Sherlock his shirt. Then he turned his back and paced away.

"Give me your arm Sherlock," Molly said holding out her hand.

"Anyfing for you," he said grinning madly.

Molly giggled at his inability to talk properly around his swollen lips and drug addled brain. He didn't so much as flinch when she poked him with the needle, just continued to stare at her like she was the most captivating creature on the planet. When she finished she placed a plaster over the small hole in his arm.

He scrunched his face. "It hurts," he said.

"Sherlock, as good as you're feeling I could probably slap you and you'd not feel a thing." Molly turned to clean up the supplies.

"This." He pointed to his bloody lip. "This hurts, kiss it and make it better?" he asked still pointing.

Molly turned back to him with wide eyes. John had found his way back to the pair. "Sherlock, stop sexually harassing Molly and put your bloody shirt on."

"Just want a kiss. Is that so much to ask? She kissed stupid meat fork."

"Meat dagger- oh, I mean Tom, his name was Tom, Sherlock you know that," Molly stammered but continued cleaning up.

"Kissed meat dagger, kissed Jim, won't kiss me." He crossed his arms over his bare chest and pouted.

Molly whipped around. "Sherlock! Don't... I mean... Why would you..." She stormed off muttering to herself.

"Nice one mate. I think you were doing pretty well until you mentioned your arch enemy," John said, shaking his head.

"She did, kissed a criminal... won't kiss me."

John laughed and helped Sherlock with his buttons (as the detective was having issues.) "You don't really want to kiss Molly, Sherlock, you're just so high you think you want to kiss her. I'm just glad you've focused your attention on her instead of me."

Sherlock gave him a look of pure disgust. "Married to my work John – told you that once, member?"

"Yeah – yeah, I remember."

"Thought I was clear that night, you're not my work," he said forcefully then he looked at Molly who was still fighting with her latex gloves. "Molly's my work." His voice softening.

John paused. "You... you mean?"

"You observe, but not see, Wahn Joston," Sherlock said, still looking at the pathologist.

John looked over at Molly and back to Sherlock. "Sherlock..."

"She's so lovely," he whispered.

John smiled. "That she is, Sherlock."

Sherlock jerked his head back to his friend. "Get your own patholo... patholllo... dead cutty person."

Molly walked up, having successfully won the battle with her gloves, and gave the men an appraising glare. "Okay, I'll know something tomorrow evening." She looked from Sherlock to John. "He needs sleep, are you staying with him tonight?"

John nodded.

"I need to process this," she said holding up the vial of Sherlock's blood. "Call me if you need anything."

John pulled Sherlock up and helped him with his coat, deciding to carry his jacket. Why must the man wear so many layers, he thought. It's summer for God's sake, why on earth does he even have his Belstaff?

"Molly," Sherlock said as they reached the door, John holding it opened and trying to pull the loopy detective through it. Sherlock just shrugged him off.

"What Sherlock?" Molly asked with an exasperated sigh.

He stared at her for almost a full minute before speaking. "I can't help myself."

"What?" she asked.

"Love comes once in a lifetime," he said.

Molly just stared at him.

"I'll keep you forever." Sherlock didn't elaborate, he just turned and stumbled out of the door. Leaving a flustered Molly in his wake.

"Well, let me know when you find out what drug makes Sherlock Holmes a romantic fool," John said with a small smile, following behind the detective.

Molly just sighed.

That's part one, hope you enjoyed it. As always reviews are appreciated.

Lil