Chapter One

Today was a big day for Molly. A year after the whole "Jim" incident, she finally had the nerve to go out on a date again. She was determined that nothing could ruin her date this time, not even that bloody git (otherwise known as Sherlock Holmes).

So, here she was. Sitting in a fabulous restaurant, dressed in an expensive dress which she was definitely going to return to the store later because she simply could not afford it. She smiled and nodded at her date who was talking about something she had not the foggiest about.

This was definitely not her. The real her would probably end up being found alone and dead in a wheel chair covered in unpaid cable bills and half eaten by Toby's great grandkids.

No, wait! They wouldn't eat her. They would have abandoned her by then.

Still, Molly felt like she had a chance. Actually her date was quite nice. In comparison to past boyfriends and dates, this one was going by smashingly. Hosmer Angel was a accountant in an office on Leadenhall Street. He seemed a few years older than her, and was about five feet, seven inches in height. He had swollen complexion, bushy whiskers, and moustache. His black hair reminded Molly of Sherlock and his soft voice reminded her of Moriarty. Those thoughts caused her gooseflesh so she dismissed them immediately.

No, no more Sherlock or Jim. Her life didn't center Sherlock and she was her knight in shining armor. She could only rely on herself these days.

"Do you like classic music? I love it. I always think that pop is for people with no taste". Hosmer Angel said condescendingly while cutting his steak.

"I couldn't agree more." Molly lied through her teeth although a little voice in the back of her brain shouted to hurl the steak at this arrogant apeman.

Sherlock was arrogant, but in a cute way. He was more haughty, like Mr. Darcy. He was also not at all hairy.

Why was she thinking about Sherlock again?

"Really? I'm so lucky to meet you." Hosmer Angel said in a cheering tone.

Molly wanted to say she was "lucky", too.

She blinked.

If this was a movie or a TV show, there would be detailed closed-up of her blinking eyes in slow motion. However, this is not fictional. Just during the half second, everything looked…different.

The next thing she knows, somehow she's teleported to a warehouse with a gun in her hand.

She blinked once again. The man in front of her had a knife around John's neck. His face was twisted in ugly anger and, although there was a knife to his throat, John was somehow keeping his face calm.

She blinked twice. No, this was not an illusion. The image of the strange man threatening John didn't go away.

"What?" Molly had no idea what was going on. She was just in an elegant restaurant a moment ago! Now she was pointing a gun at a man. Life was obviously too dramatic for her. She was frozen.

"I said either he or I die." The man in front of her thought that she didn't hear clearly.

"OK…" Molly tried to figure out what to do.

Well, of course she had to save John. No matter what brought her here, she ended up in a position of shooting right now. Shooting seemed to be a good choice, the best option. However, there was a serious problem. She didn't know how to shoot at all. Maybe she should throw the gun onto the man's face and hope it would knock him out. She was good at throwing.

"Give me the diamond." The man looked desperate.

Molly knew that there was no time to hesitate.

Shoot first and ask questions later.

She took a deep breath and aimed at the kidnapper.

She pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was immediately followed by John's cry. John fell down to the ground.

Oh shit.

Today was a typical day for Sherlock. His experiment was sequestrated by John after triggering the fire alarm at two o'clock in the morning. His violin was taken again by John after a neghibor called the police at 3:45 a.m. John got up for a third time at 4:00 a.m., albeit not Sherlock's fault this time, to go to the loo.

After harassing Lestrade for five hours, Lestrade finally filled him in with the latest details of the jewelry theft. Although he was tuning them out, he overheard some of John and Molly's insipid conversation as he analyzed chemicals from the safe.

"How are you doing?" John asked.

John always held too much sympathy. He never understood where it came from.

"Good." Molly brought John a cup of tea and him a cup of coffee "I have a date tonight.", she said with barely contained joy.

Sherlock sipped and frowned.

The coffee tasted funny.

"Really?" A surge of happiness went through John. "What's he like?"

"Well… Melisa introduced him —uh, his name is Hosmer Angel and he's an accountant…"

Dull. What's the use of an accountant anyway?

"He was married once. But they divorced due to generation gaps." Molly was trying to remember what her friend
had told her. "I think he takes the marriage thing seriously. That's good, right?"

John nodded.

"Statistically, divorce rate of first marriage only differed from that of second marriage by three per cent." Sherlock mumbled watching his microscope.

John shot him a glance which after daily practise Sherlock now understood as "shut up".

Molly ignored Sherlock's comment and focused her attention on John. "He's also very funny."

"Funny? Even I can be funny", Sherlock added reagent to the dish.

Coincidently John and Molly both thought of Sherlock's comments on Anderson:

"He dragged the whole block's IQ down by two percent."

"He can take your IQ down to his level and beat you with experience."

"Anderson? The monkey?"

John was the first one to finish running those flashbacks. "Right." He coughed. "Good luck with your date, Molly!"

In the afternoon, everything went according to plan. Sherlock and John ran through London chasing the thieves. John got kidnapped, not by the thieves, but by Mycroft. Sherlock waited for fifteen minutes in which he bought new suits using Mycroft's credit cards. As they were going back to the track, they had to take a detour— e.g. having to drive into a theatre— with the theives shooting behind them. The audiences clapped hands, as Sherlock jumped onto the second car and tore one man's AK47 away. Sherlock waved and gave a little bow missing the bullets from behind. Nothing was too chaotic, indeed.

And so, here he was, last step to success.

Unfortunately, John was taken hostage and all Sherlock had in his possession was a diamond worth two million pounds and a pistol. How could a diamond compare with John's life? John could make tea, buy milk and deal with awkward, useless, but important social situation. The only thing a diamond could do was sitting there and look pretty.

He aimed his sights at the kidnapper and prepared to shoot.

He blinked and, before he realized what happened, he was surrounded by food, laughterr and people.

"Molly," the man in front of him looked concerned, "Are you alright?"

Sherlock was confused. But Sherlock was Sherlock. His clothes felt pressing and he had no memories of reaching here. His hard drive showed no record for this man who seemed determined that he was Molly. He quickly ruled out the possibilities of getting high, going insane, and Mycroft's revenge. He glanced down at his now present breasts and realized what just happened.

He and Molly body swapped.

"Molly, can you hear me?" The man waved his hand in front of Sherlock.

So he must be Hosmer Angel. Sherlock thought sardonically.

"Drop it." Sherlock gave him a hard stare, "Your whiskers and moustache is clearly a disguise and your voice is soft so that your real voice will never be recognised. Even your eye color is not real. Your wear contacts. You're trying so hard to hide your identity therefore, Molly must know you in person and you really don't want to have a relationship. This is Molly's first date this year and Molly values it very much. Her 'friend', Melisa knows it too. So, why would you recommend someone you know is insincere to a dear friend? Conclusion, you wanted her date to crash and burn so that she'll always be around and eager to please because you are the only person she has. But you have to make sure that person could never be with her. That person should be someone you trust. Who can be more trustworthy than a husband? You must be Melisa's husband." Sherlock checked contacts on Molly's phone quickly, " James Windibank.", he said slowly as he slipped the mobile back in Molly's handbag.

The man's jaw fell in shock.

Sherlock stood up and stormed out.

The kidnapper was clearly surprised by the change as well. He released John and ran off after he realized John would only be an encumbrance.

The police soon appeared thereafter and arrested the kidnapper. The medics rushed to check John. John was curling on the ground and holding his foot in pain.

John let his arms down enough for Molly to notice that he was smiling at her weakly. Molly read John's lips.Thank you.

Thank you? She could have killed him!

A rush of emotions came to the fore. Molly felt lucky that John was not killed but fekt guilty that John was shot. If Sherlock was here, he would not have made make such a mess.

Where was Sherlock?

That was when Molly realized her hands looked strange and her clothes were uncomfortable. She touched her face. It wasn't hers.

"The criminal wouldn't take a hostage who can't move", Sally snorted, "Risking hostage's life? How typical, Freak."

Molly was befuddled. Why was Sally treating her like Sherlock? She never offended Sally. Sherlock did.

Lestrade gave Sally a warning look and turned to Molly, " I'll see you at the Yard, Sherlock."

Sherlock? Why was she being called Sherlock?

Her mobile—technically Sherlock's—rang.

She answered and was immediately greeted by her own voice hissing:

"What the hell are you doing in my body?"

Now there was a question she wanted answered, along with "How the hell does my voice sound so sexy?"