A/N: Been a while since I updated this story. Still amazed that people are following it and I am really thankful for that. Also, thanks to mizjoely, whose Tumblr helped me figure out season 4's timeline, thanks to another Tumblr user. So, I will make the appropriate edits to fit this story, which will now take place in 2017, rather than 2016 (I'm sure everyone wants to forget that year. Too many deaths) and have Sherlock and Molly nearing a year-long relationship rather than five months. It'll be worth it in the end. Thank you all for the follows and reviews. Until the next update. Ciao!

Mycroft sat comfortably in his private cinema, enjoying a viewing of Sunset Boulevard on his screen, a glass of whisky in his hand. The day had gone a bit better than expected and now, this evening, will be even better. Nothing makes a tiring day go away like a warm soak and a classic piece of cinema. That was always refreshing.

The chirp of his phone alerted him to an incoming text, annoying him greatly. Picking up his phone, he read the text, the sender shocking him immensely, "Mind me coming over for a drink? IA"

Hitting the dial button, Mycroft brought the phone up to his ear, waiting for the other line to pick up. Upon hearing the other voice, he knew he had their attention.

"Mr. Holmes, what a pleasure," Irene said from the other line, "I take it you got my text?"

"Why are you texting me, Ms. Adler?" Mycroft demanded, "I know that you've been in the United States for the past five years, no thanks to Sherlock. Why come back now?"

"I'm trying to get some information, Mr. Holmes. For a friend, of course."

"Yes, I know about your little friend. I was alerted to her arrival to London and am waiting for her to make a move."

"Oh. So you know about Cerise? Well, that makes my job even easier."

"No, Ms. Adler, it doesn't. I'm not telling you anything you inquire about, as the matter is still pending. Have a good evening and don't call again."

Ending the call, Mycroft sighed and muttered, "Oh, Sherlock, your taste in women is appalling."

As if on cue, Mycroft's phone rang again, this time the caller being Sherlock. Mycroft let out another sigh, "Speak of the devil." He answered the call and said, "This better be important, Sherlock. It's cinema night."

"I'm aware, Mycroft," Sherlock replied, "But I wouldn't call unless it was important."

"What is it?"

"Tomorrow morning, at the earliest possible time, I need a helicopter to Sherrinford."

"It's only been two days since your last visit, Sherlock. The schedule for visitations to Eurus clearly states…"

"Damn the schedule for once, Mycroft! This is important and needed for a case. Please."

Sighing once again, Mycroft responded, "I'll make the arrangements. Be prepared to leave Baker Street by six-thirty tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, Mycroft. Good evening."

Mycroft hung up and leaned his head back, releasing a held breath. This was not how he had pictured his evening going at all.

Sherlock put down his phone on his nightstand, relieved Mycroft agreed to the request he had. Shrugging off his royal blue dressing gown, he tossed it into his wardrobe and then walked to his bed, sitting on the left side. Molly was on the right side, watching Sherlock with anticipation.

"Well, what did Mycroft say?" she asked, curious.

"I'll be leaving by six-thirty tomorrow morning," Sherlock replied, "Try and get as much information as you can. We're going to have twelve hours or less to solve this case."
"My guess is eight at the most. We all have a busy day tomorrow."

"Very much so." Settling into bed, Sherlock allowed Molly to rest next to him, his arm under her. He caressed the curve of her shoulder gently, "I have to admit that this case has me worried."

"How come?"

"Eurus' game may not have been Moriarty's last. It may not have been his final round of posthumous revenge. What if Cerise is luring us into a trap?"

"I don't know, but, whatever it is, you'll be there to stop it. You're Sherlock Holmes."

With a smile, Sherlock turned his head towards Molly's and gave her a tender kiss, which she eagerly returned. Molly wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck while Sherlock's went around Molly's shoulders and back, but soon slipped down to her waist as the passion intensified between them and Sherlock was above her. Gradually, Sherlock's kisses went from Molly's lips, to her jawline, down to her neck and onto her clavicle.

Delicate moans escaped from Molly's mouth as Sherlock moved a little lower to the edge of her tank top, which stopped just above her breasts, his hand moving gingerly at the strap to feel the softness of her skin. His hands then moved down to the hem just above Molly's waistline, immediately catching her attention. Fear and panic began to set in as Sherlock tried to lift her shirt up, Molly grabbing his hands and trying to push them away with an iron grip.

"Stop it, Sherlock," Molly begged, hoping he would sense her worry.

"It's okay, Molly," Sherlock tried to reassure, "I just want to…"

"I said stop it!"

With a hefty shove, Sherlock was away from Molly, the pathologist holding her legs to her chest, as if to protect herself. Confusion was written all over Sherlock's face at Molly's actions.

"What's wrong, Molly?" he inquired, praying he would answer him.

"Look, I just don't want to continue, okay?" Molly answered, her voice now slightly cracking.

"Can you tell me why?" Sherlock scooched closer to Molly, cautious as he did.

"I-I don't want to."

"Why not?" Molly didn't answer, so Sherlock tried a different approach, "Molly, you can tell me anything. I thought we promised no more secrets that night a year and a half ago."

"I know." Molly choked back a sob, "I know, b-but this is s-something I've been k-keeping for a long time. D-Don't make me say it."

Understanding that whatever was upsetting Molly had given her a lot of trauma, Sherlock nodded and pulled Molly to him, letting her sit in his lap and cry onto his chest. He rubbed her back to try and calm her, at it seemed to work a little. A few minutes later, Molly finally pulled away, slightly calmer than before, taking a moment to look Sherlock in the eyes.

"Just tell me when you're ready," Sherlock said, "You waited eight bloody years for me. I think I can wait just as long."

Happy to know he understood, Molly smiled and placed her head back on Sherlock's chest, Sherlock keeping her close. She muttered, "Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes?"

"Oh, he's here," Sherlock reassured, "He's just not being an ass right now."

"But you will be tomorrow, right?"

"Depends on who you want to target, Molly Hooper."

"Well, one of the new pathologists is an absolute prick…"

Back in her hotel room, Cerise sat in bed with the TV on some random drama show, her phone next to her ear. She sighed as Irene updated her on her progress and said, "So, let me guess, Mycroft didn't falter?"

"Of course not," Irene answered, "Perhaps I can get in contact with Sherlock Holmes to get some information."

"Give him until the end of the twenty-four hours, Irene. He'll figure it out before then. I have no doubts about that."

"So, I should just sit here and do nothing?"

"No. You just do what you used to do before Sherlock Holmes solves part one of the case. Until then, no interactions with him. Understand?"

"Fine, Cerise. You win. I'll play nice for now. But, I must warn you, once Sherlock Holmes is free, I plan to take him."

"Irene, he really isn't single anymore. Doctor Watson just posted about it on his blog. Turns out Mr. Holmes is in a happy and committed relationship. He won't name his girlfriend, but did emphasize that she makes Sherlock happy and to respect their privacy."

Silence was all Cerise heard on Irene's side for a good thirty seconds before Irene spoke again, "Sherlock Holmes, I can't believe you. Did that night mean anything to you?!"

"My guess is no, if he has a girlfriend. Perhaps he thought of her while whatever occurred between you two transpired. Not every man is attracted to you, Irene."

"No matter. I will pay Mr. Holmes a visit tomorrow. When I don't know, but I promise you, it will happen."

"Very well. It's your eighth funeral."

Eight Hours Remaining

Sherlock and Molly were getting ready for their respective trips, both equally as nervous as the other. Every so often, they would give each other a reassuring squeeze to ease any tension, but it hardly did anything to ease their minds.

"What are you going to ask Eurus?" Molly questioned, hoping some form of an answer would help.

"I'll ask her to tell me everything she knows on Cerise Alexandra," Sherlock answered, "In exchange, I'll grant her a request of almost anything."

"Oh."

Appearing to sense Molly's apprehension, Sherlock turned to her, "I'm not entirely certain what Eurus will want in return for this, but I'm not ready for you to meet her. She's still got a long road ahead of her and I want her to be in the best possible condition when she meets you. Eurus has already interrogated me about us, so she obviously has some form of an interest."

"Sherlock, I was the one person who got you to say "I love you" to another person. Eurus probably wants to know how I did it."

"Maybe. You are a mystery to be still, Molly. One moment you're your usual happy self, the next you're slapping me thrice for doing drugs for a case. Granted, I deserved it both times."

"That you did. I'll be honest, it was very relieving slapping you in an ambulance."

"I'm sure." Shrugging on his Belstaff, Sherlock gave Molly a peck on her cheek, "Text you when I get back."

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you. See you when I get back."

Mycroft heard knocking at his door as he was putting on his suit, sighing as he knew Sherlock was early. Fifteen minutes early, to be exact. He decided against keeping Sherlock in the cold air and walked to the door, opening it to let his brother in.

"Thanks for that," Sherlock said, "When do we leave?"

"Not for another fifteen minutes, Sherlock," Mycroft answered, "And you should learn to control your women."

"Women? I'm with Molly, Mycroft. There's no other woman, only her."

"Irene Adler texted me yesterday. She knows about Eurus somehow." Mycroft turned to Sherlock, putting his suit jacket on and grabbing his umbrella, "Be careful, Sherlock. I worry that Ms. Adler might try and destroy whatever happiness you have."

Sherlock had been stunned into silence, mostly due to fear. Irene Adler? Back in London? And she wanted Eurus? Whatever the reason, it couldn't be good. Shaking the thought out of his head, another came in its place, "Mycroft, what if Cerise Alexandra told the Woman about Eurus? How else could she have learned about it?"

Mycroft's eyes shot up in surprise, "So, she's gone to you, has she? Well, that's no surprise, considering who she is."

"That's what I'm going to ask Eurus about." Sherlock and Mycroft exited the house and got into one of Mycroft's cars, the vehicle taking off moments later, "How did you know about her?"

"I was alerted to her arrival in London on the fifth. Forgive me for not being at your birthday get-together. Lady Smallwood and I were keeping tabs on the girl."

"Ah." Sherlock nodded, "You know, Mycroft, Lady Smallwood seems to have an interest in you."

Turning to face his brother, Mycroft responded, "Sherlock, she and I are colleagues who work together."

"I said the same thing about Molly for eight long years. Having her in my life, well, it's a blessing. Every day, I look forward to seeing her." A small laugh came from Sherlock's throat, "She completes me. I'd go so far as to say I want to marry her one day."

Eyebrows once again up in shock, Mycroft replied, "Are you sure that's wise, Sherlock? You're not exactly marriage material."

"So what? I'm willing to try, Mycroft. Do you know why? Because I love Molly that much. I am willing to give up being a bachelor for the sake of the one who matters the most!" Sherlock took a deep breath then continued, "Are you willing to do that for the love of your life, should you ever get one?"

Mycroft sighed, "Sherlock, you and I are different in many ways. Love is one of those things where we will disagree. You have a heart the size of Sherrinford while mine is the size of a biscuit at most."

"That's not true."

"Oh, it is. I'm well aware that Lady Smallwood is interested in me. But ordinary people don't interest me, Sherlock. They're too boring."

"Lady Smallwood is anything but boring. She could very well be your intellectual equal."

"Sherlock…"

"No, let me finish. If there's one thing I've learned from my relationship with Molly, it's that women want to be treated as if they're men. Treat them with respect. Ninety-nine percent of the time, they are the ones in the right and we're in the wrong. You obviously have experience with that."

"I've long since made it up to Lady Smallwood for Norbury. She does, however, still insist that we have a drink sometime."

"Then take that chance! John told me once the Culverton Smith case was over that opportunities will pass you by before you know it. Why do you think I finally got off my ass and asked Molly if we could start dating? Because he's right! John and Molly are always right! I do not regret starting a relationship with Molly. Not for a single damn minute! I may not be the man she deserves, but she wouldn't have me any other way. Think about that."

Sherlock sat back in his seat, effectively ending the conversation. Mycroft had been silenced by his brother's declarations, startled that Sherlock had changed so much since Sherrinford. Perhaps his little brother had become the man he was supposed to be, but he could never really be sure. Leaning back in his own seat, Mycroft let the rest of the trip to the helicopter be in total silence.