The court steps were buzzing with reporters and news teams. Everyone let Donovan lead the way through. "Sharpest elbows," whispers Lestrade.

Sherlock had slept for nearly twenty hours and, upon waking, like Aurora in the Sleeping Beauty, had solved everyone`s problems. His (and John Watson`s) observations from the empty house; combined with the chemical analyses and witness corroborations (Wiggins and Shinwell Johnson had done Sherlock proud) had given the murderers of Dr Percy Trevelyan some sleepless nights, and resulted in several members of the Russian insurgent group losing their freedom for approximately fifteen years a-piece. The mastermind of the operation was still out of the grasp of UK intelligence, but Sherlock had warned MI6 (and Mycroft) that the long game was the game they were playing. He was, after all, the only one who had met Bartholomew Moriarty…and he could wait.

John and Molly sat in the Watson kitchen in Kentish town and sucked up their noodles. Both had a chicken and mushroom obsession and neither was prepared to admit it to their nearest and dearest. Although nothing can come close to the locked in love he feels for his wife; John Watson has a surging affection for Dr Molly Hooper and the influence she has on his best friend. It is both spectacular and phenomenal. He is awestruck amongst the pot noodles.

"How, Molly, did you succeed where we all failed? I had Mycroft on MP3, drugs and meditation. Mary had sex."

Molly sucked savagely and a noodle lashed her cheek with chicken and mushroom stock; tinted with soya sauce. She loves John, but feels unable to explain her relationship with his best friend. She tries her best.

"Ah, John…" noodle suck. "I knew how he couldn't switch off."

"Yeah. I didn't know you had a way of short circuiting the Mind Palace, though…" Wouldn't that be useful?

Molly puts the empty pot noodle container on the kitchen counter and checks her watch. Playgroup turnaround in less than twenty minutes.

"John. You know him better than I do. I just gave him a puzzle to solve. I`d had it in my head since I was in Sweden, and the authorities have been really grateful since I emailed them last week…

"You gave him a case to solve?"

"I gave it to him to focus his brain…I half guessed he`d have an idea. Turns out, I was right."

"He solved it, so then, he could switch off."

"Yes. Most people like a bedtime story with a beginning, a middle and an end. Sherlock is no exception. When he closed the case of Mr Edmundssen, the starving hiker, he could switch off and sleep."

John puts his carton next to hers on the bench. He will destroy the evidence later, before Mary comes home. No-one needs ever know about his and Molly`s secret shame.

"You`ve saved a lot of lives by doing this, Molly, whether you know it or not."

She is smiling as she picks up her shoulder bag on the way out of the door.

"That is amazing, John, truly," says she. "But, this time, I really only wanted to save Sherlock`s sanity."

John looks at her, thoughtfully. "You just keep on saving him."

Molly turns on the step.

"He saved me first." She smiles.

X0x0x00x0x0x

Nursery gates. Mary Watson walking alongside Molly Hooper. Children are in buggies, and a burning question remains…

"Molly."

Ah, she knows. She`s known since last Tuesday.

"Mary."

Ah, she knows. She`s been waiting since last Tuesday.

"Sherlock…he got to sleep in the end. It was down to you, wasn't it?"

"It might have been." Pushing that buggy is such a focus right now.

Mary took a spurt on to catch up with her. Of course she catches up with her.

"And so…" Mary is almost out of breath. God, she must be on fast track…

"It was the sex wasn't it? It always is."

Buggies are temporarily pulled up short. Molly has to focus. Just how embarrassing is that question? Just how geeky is the answer?

Molly Hooper restarts pushing her son in his buggy and Mary Watson is forced to follow.

"Oh, yes." Replies Molly Hooper, untruthfully and blatantly. She attempts to look wanton as she pushes Benedict back to Baker Street. "It was the sex. I slayed him. He didn't stand a chance."

Mary smiles, satisfied.

"Knew it…don`t worry. John will never know."

And, perhaps, that is just as well.

THE END

(`night, `night. X)