She woke up in a panic. Something felt wrong. There was an unfamiliar noise. Trying to remain as still as possible, her eyes scanned the portion of the room that she could see from her curled up position. Out of the corner of her left eye she could just barely view a tall shape near the door. Forcing herself to breathe deeply and calm down, Molly considered her options. There weren't many. Damn, this is why she hated living alone.

The near total darkness of the room registered and Molly realized that the intruder must have put out the hall fixture. Usually there was a steady beam of light from it shining under the door's threshold. Biting her lip, Molly acknowledged to herself that playing possum wasn't a long term option. Perhaps she could make the lack of light work for her? Remembering her mobile on the side table, she mumbled as if in the middle of a dream and rolled over onto her stomach. In the process, her left hand brushed the table and swiped up her phone. She was on the second digit of the emergency services number when the unfamiliar weight of the ring on her left ring figure filtered up into her consciousness.

Groaning, Molly realized she was at 221B and reached over to flick on the table lamp. A quick glance at the alarm clock told her it was five in the morning. She sat up in bed and a giggle escaped her as she noted the ever so threatening robe hanging on a hook by her door. Molly was happy to see Toby sleeping peacefully on the overstuffed chair next to the window. The little cat had remained stubbornly under the bed when Molly had gone to sleep. She was relieved Toby had started exploring and claiming his new territory.

Molly's stomach gurgled and she realized she was hungry. Now was as good a time as any to follow Toby's lead and start to make herself at home. It occurred to Molly that she had no idea if Sherlock was a heavy or light sleeper. Quietly she began to make her way downstairs. Fortunately, once outside her room, there was enough ambient glow for her to make her way to the kitchen without having to turn on any fixtures. Rooting around in the fridge, she found a hunk of cheese next to several petri dishes. Making a mental note to purchase another fridge for Sherlock's experiments because biological experiments stored next to edible foods was a really bad idea, Molly snagged the hunk and made her way to the sitting room.

"Next time don't dawdle so long. You'll compromise the experiments."

Molly jumped and dropped the cheese on the floor. "Dang it, Sherlock, you scared me. I didn't see you sitting there. What are you doing sitting up in the middle of the night?"

"Thinking. And it's not the middle of the night, it's magrugada and will be sunrise in twelve minutes and thirty-eight seconds."

As her eyes further adjusted to the dimness, Molly could make out Sherlock in his usual chair. She could also see where the cheddar had fallen. Mumbling, "Five second rule," she scooped it up, popped a chunk in her mouth and plopped into the chair opposite Sherlock.

Sherlock shot her a quizzical glance. "Five second rule?"

Molly laughed. "You know. The five second rule? Anything that falls on the floor is still clean and fair game for five seconds. Surely you've heard of it?"

Sherlock merely stared at her.

"You've seriously not heard of the five second rule? Sherlock, sometimes you amaze me."

"I'd hardly consider a lack of knowledge of such a nonsensical idea amazing, Molly. Bacteria do not hold to that time schedule. With your background, you should know that."

"Sher…," Molly stopped herself from continuing the pointless discussion. A man who knew the term for the time before sunrise but did not know the five second rule was not a man to be reasoned with. "Sherlock, do you mind if I sit here and read for a bit or am I disrupting you?"

Sherlock flicked his hand in a show of impatience. "Molly, this is your home. You don't need to request permission, just stop distracting me with absurdities."

Molly marveled yet again at Sherlock's unique ability to be incredibly sweet and incredibly rude in the same sentence and picked up a book from the stack next to the chair. Close to two hours later sunlight filled the room and Molly was enthralled in an 1883 human anatomy textbook. As she turned the page to view another color plate of the nervous system, Molly noticed Sherlock staring at her. He was in what Molly had privately dubbed his thinking pose- legs stretched out and hands clasped with steepled index fingers tapping against his pursed lips. Though in most cases his eyes were either focused on some imagined point in the distance or closed rather than on her. Reluctant to intrude, she quietly stared back rather than comment.

Sherlock broke the silence. "Molly, we have two problems to work out."

The flip of her stomach and flutter of worry surprised Molly. Was Sherlock already regretting their bargain? Sensibly, she couldn't blame him. Hadn't she had her own doubts yesterday? Still, the thought somewhat panicked her. As usual, her expressive face, betrayed her concern.

With a wry smile, Sherlock informed her, "No, I am not referring to our recent nuptials. Although, we do still have some marital details to settle, that's not important now. I'm afraid Moriarty is alive."

Molly opened her mouth and then closed it again, uncertain of how to reply. Sherlock just sat there awaiting her response. "Well… uh…yes, Sherlock. I mean we all sort of knew that when he interrupted the telly with his message.

Shrugging impatiently Sherlock whispered, "Molly, you disappointment me. Surely you deduced there are several alternative explanations for that event? You are an intelligent woman after all. Use your brain. Think!"

Putting down the book, Molly stood up and stretched. "If I am going to be tested this early in the morning, I need to get my blood circulating." She paced about the room, picking up and putting down a variety of objects. Suddenly she stilled and a smile filled her face. "He could have paid someone long ago to air the message on a pre-determined date."

"Another?"

Now fully awake, Molly was enjoying the challenge. Learning of Moriarty's return had been an unwelcome reminder of her gullibility. It was lovely to think he might still be gone. "A computer virus set to deploy the message unless deactivated?"

"Possibly."

"Wait! I know. It's the simplest of solutions. We are crediting him with far too much intelligence and foresight. He couldn't know he was going to die so why set up something like that? It's just another psycho copycatting him!"

Sherlock grinned and softly praised, "Good girl, Molly. I knew you'd get there. Clever girl."

A warm glow filled her at this bit of approbation from Sherlock. However, she did wryly acknowledge to herself that he sounded a lot like she did when she praised Toby for catching a mouse. Still in all, Sherlock's praise was a rare treasure to be savored. The feeling lasted for all of two seconds before he destroyed it.

"However, you are wrong. Moriarty is in fact alive. "

"But how, Sherlock? Ever since the message I've been wondering how he did it. You saw him kill himself. You were right there. Only a few feet away. I autopsied his body myself. You were there when I did it. He can't be alive. It's impossible."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Impossible it may be but I assure you Moriarty is very much alive. Last night I received irrefutable proof. The puzzle is how can Moriarty be dead and alive at the same time?" He jumped up and strode over to the fireplace. Pulling out the knife from the mantle, he whirled and flung it across the room where it stuck into the wall. "It's beyond frustrating."

Still processing the news and unable to offer any valuable input, Molly asked, "Sherlock, what was the other problem?"

Her distraction worked. Sherlock resumed his seat. Scowling at her, he inquired, "The other problem, my dear Molly, is your choice of nightwear. What on earth do you have on?"

Molly grinned. In his own peculiar fashion, Sherlock was a clothes snob. "They're my leopard footie pajamas, Sherlock. Do you have a problem with them?"