This is the first work in my new series, these are stories written based on the names of songs (not the song itself) all the songs are found on my itunes with the shuffle on :D

The name of the story is also the name of the song, this song is by MCR

'We need someone to go undercover Sherlock' said Greg as he and the consulting detective walked through the doors to the morgue, soon finding themselves face to face with Molly Hooper.

'Oh hi Molly sorry to barge in unannounced' Greg greeted her with a smile on his face.

'You're always welcome here Greg, announced or not' she replied smiling right back at him.

'Are you quite done with the social necessities?' Sherlock interrupted as he sat down in front of his favourite microscope, whipping out a few samples from his pocket.

Molly saw Greg roll his eyes at the consulting detective and couldn't help but give a small laugh, Greg gave her a quick wink with his eye before Sherlock could turn around and catch them mocking him.

'You're quite right in your assessment that we need someone to go undercover Galvin, but where do you suggest we find a woman with knowledge on aristocracy and who speaks French. I'm sure you know none of that kind.' Sherlock said ignoring their offending and obvious attempt of teasing him.

'Actually he does Sherlock, Ma grand-mère était française et bien connu dans les cercles français, elle même a retrouvé un acteur fameux après la mort de son deuxième mari.'

For some reason Molly quite liked the way both Greg and Sherlocks mouths were hanging open, it wasn't often she got to surprise anyone like that.

'Well I guess we have our undercover aristocrat' Greg said as he smiled and gave Molly a hug.

'Not a chance Molly can't do it, I forbid it' answered Sherlock before Molly could reply.

'Excuse me?' Molly asked as she crossed her arms in anger 'just what makes you think that you have anything to say in this matter Sherlock?'

'My family had a splendid French teacher, she can teach Sally in time for the gala next week' Sherlock said, ignoring Molly's question. 'I'll go call her right away' he said, and then he was gone.

'There's a gala tonight as well, are you in?' Greg asked Molly when he was sure Sherlock had gone far enough away for him to hear. Molly nodded as a reply 'i'm off in an hour i'll just need to find a dress' she whispered following Greg's example.

'I'll get one to you by the time you're off, i'll have Sally drop it' he stopped talking as Sherlock walked back into the room.

'Mrs. Brown will be pleased to help Sally it'll take a bit of money but i'm sure you can handle that' he said sitting himself back down in front of the microscope.

The last hour went by in silence Greg had left with a scoff not long after Sherlock had shooed him out of the lab by telling him that he was thinking too loudly, and Molly soon found herself on the way home.

There was a box in front of her door no doubt with the content of a beautiful dress, and perhaps even some shoes.

She gasped when she opened the box, the dress was made of a red silky material, it was strapless and had a corset body before it spread out from the hips and reached all the way to the floor. The shoes matched the colour of the dress and even though they were heels Molly was confident that she could manoeuvre them, even though she'd never had a particularly good relationship with shoes like that.

The was a small note from Greg on top of the dress and shoes 'i'll pick you up at half past six.'

She glanced at the clock and realised she had to get a move on if she wanted to get ready, she pulled out the dress and shoes placing both on her bed. Then she grabbed her strapless bra and the matching knickers quickly pulling both on.

She ran to her bathroom and dabbed on a bit of makeup, blush, mascara and a bit of eyeliner, she chose to let her hair hang down, only curling it slightly at the tips.

It took her quite some fighting with the dress before it slipped up her body but when it was finally fitted to her it stayed in place wrapped around her petite body perfectly.

When the bell rang she threw her black mantle coat over her head and descended the stairs as carefully as possible.

'Wow Molly you look absolutely stunning' Greg exclaimed as soon as his eyes fell on her. Molly blushed slightly at his words; he wasn't exactly the worst looking man possible so the look he gave her he sent just a small shiver down her spine.

Greg explained a few things to her during the drive, who she was supposed to be and what to look for while she mingled.

Her name was Angélique Bellerose and she was the youngest member of a very high-ranking French family, the reason as to why no one had heard much about her was because her family preferred privacy, and had kept much to themselves, spending most of their time at their château in the countryside of France.

The story had been validated by Mycroft who'd spread just a few rumours after Greg had texted him about Molly's agreement to go undercover. Mycroft as the British Government was never doubted much, so people had spread the word further which meant that everyone who was something knew about her.

Molly had been mingling for an hour when Sherlock stormed through the entrance looking positively livid; he scoured the room for something turning his head in all directions when his gaze finally landed on her.

He took a few steps towards her before Greg's hand on his shoulder stopped him, the DI whispered something in his ear and even though Sherlock didn't look pleased he made no further movements towards her.

She continued chatting with as many people as possible keeping her eyes out for anything suspicious. She did also keep an eye on Sherlock feeling just a bit safer with him here; she made sure to read the expressions on his face knowing she could tell if he saw something fishy.

The evening was rapidly coming to an end and Molly had almost stopped looking since she'd believe something would have happened by now, which was why it took her a bit longer to realise that Sherlock was yelling and running towards her.

A shot sounded through the room and Molly felt a sharp pain running through her chest where the projectile had hit her, she fell to the floor having just enough thought in her head to soften the blow with her elbows.

'Molly' Sherlocks scream travelled through the few people now between them.

She looked up at him when he landed on his knees next to her noticing just how frantic and scared he seemed.

'Well I suppose the jetset life really is going to kill you' she said with a small giggle as she pulled out the small nine millimetre bullet from the Kevlar emitted in the corset of her dress.

'Oh don't make jokes Molly' Sherlock erupted before pulling her in for a passionate kiss, surprising not only the woman receiving the kiss but also their friends, and of course Mycroft.

Please let me know what you think :3

The French phrase means - My grandmother was French and well known in French circles, she even found a famous actor after the death of her second husband.