A little business first: I cannot take credit for the facial recognition software bit with Toby. I was gabbing about Sherlock having his homeless network find the cat to my husband (saying that I *knew* it was farfetched, but that I frankly didn't care... I wanted the cat back!) when he started laughing and said, "Wouldn't it be funny if he used facial recognition software to find him?" I took care of the rest. Also, I need to thank allthebellsinvenice for backing me up when I wanted to use 'husband' and 'wife' as their main pet names (I was second guessing myself, as per usual). When I decided to try that out, I emailed her, asking if it would work. She was encouraging and enthusiastic. It seems she was right since you're all enjoying that aspect of their relationship. Lastly, a quick reminder: Molly's only suspended. Yes, her medical license is under review, but have faith. She does. ; )

So, we're moving right along and getting back to some plot (but only for one chapter, don't get comfortable! The smut returns in chapter 9). Remember my thanks and warnings.

I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~


Chapter 8 - Mr. Brightside (The Killers)

Sherlock had wanted to ask Mrs. Hudson to make them something to eat, but Molly refused.

"We have food, Sherlock, I just got back from the shops!" she protested as she gathered the makings for sandwiches. "I even bought those crisps you like and gingernuts."

He waved her off as he thumbed through his mobile. With a roll of her eyes, she focused on making them a very late lunch, slipping the still too thin Toby bites of turkey and ham as she worked. As she watched him eat she made a mental note to take him to the vet as soon as possible.

Ten minutes later, she carried their plates into the sitting room, handing Sherlock his before sitting in John's chair. Toby followed, curling up on a cushion on the floor, obviously ready to sleep off his unexpected treats. She'd never fed him table food before, but she couldn't help but spoil him after his ordeal. Where have you been? she wondered as she watched him drift off.

"Did they tell you where they found him?" she asked.

Sherlock nodded, but didn't take his eyes off of his mobile. "Galavanting around a Tescos parking lot. They took him to a clinic, by the way. He's in perfect health."

Looking down at the cat, she noted that he did look pretty healthy for being missing for so long. Turning her attention back to the man across from her, Molly studied him. He was intensely focused on whatever he was doing. After a couple of minutes of watching Sherlock type, she asked, "What's going on?"

Glancing up, then back to the device, he finished typing before slipping the phone into his breast pocket and picking up his plate. "John. He wants to meet with me."

Though she didn't let it show on her face, Molly instantly felt a small wave of disappointment. If John was back then how much of Sherlock would she actually get? Part of her felt like she was just a placeholder, filling the gap of companionship and excitement that John had left.

Selfish cow! This is what you wanted, remember?

Yes, well, that was before all the orgasms!

Is it the orgasms or his undivided attention that you'll miss?

His attention comes with orgasms!

Molly was focused on her plate and didn't notice Sherlock watching her.

"I told him no," he said.

She looked up. "Why? If he's ready to meet…"

"You're still owed an apology, Molly. We're both meeting the Watson's for dinner at Angelo's at eight," he said casually before diving back into his sandwich.

Hmm, almost a date... if I squint, that is. Not to mention the apology bit was actually quite gallant of him. "And he agreed to that?"

"Of course."

"What's Angelo's?" He'd said it as if she was just supposed to know what he was talking about.

He smirked as he dusted the crumbs off his hands. "Psychological Warfare. Our first case, remember the forced suicides?"

Molly nodded. How does one forget a case like that?

"I took John to Angelo's that first night when he started whinging about being hungry. It will invoke memories of more pleasant times and action-filled days."

"That's evil," she said with a smile. "Brilliant, but evil."

Sherlock just winked.

o0o0o0o0o

Molly spent most of her day in her room with Toby. God, but she had missed her cat. She couldn't, however, stop thinking about her husband.

Husband.

Up until the night he had spanked her, Molly had prided herself on not thinking too hard about the fact that she was actually married to Sherlock Holmes. Her life was far too complicated to be dreaming about the impossible and making more of the situation than it was. And it had been working too, right up to the moment he asked her to strip naked for him in his sitting room.

Even after that, she had tried to stop herself from spending time pondering their relationship, but it was getting increasingly difficult. The addition of the word 'husband' to their sexual games was a therapist appointment waiting to happen. Why was he insisting on that particular word? Molly had read her fair share of erotica, most of it involving Domination and submission, and she knew there was any number of 'titles' available to them or, they could simply use their actual names. Their situation wasn't by any means formal, like some she had read about. They had no contract, just a handful of 'rules', as Sherlock had called them.

He was perplexing and she decided that there simply was no figuring him out.

Toby had flopped himself down on the end of her bed at some point, clearly tired of her obsessively needy petting. She scratched him one more time before getting up and glancing through the wardrobe.

Hmm… an almost date with her fake husband slash Dominate… What to wear? She knew she shouldn't be putting so much thought into it. With John there, Sherlock would most likely not even notice her clothes. He'd be focusing on fixing their friendship. Oh, and also riling John up, of that Molly was sure. The man had a mean streak!

In the end, she decided that she'd dress up for herself, not for Sherlock. It had been a while since she'd gone out to a nice restaurant (at least she was assuming Angelo's was nice) and besides, Mary would be there, being her gorgeous, glowing self. Compared to the beautiful blonde mother-to-be, Molly sometimes felt frumpy and plain.

At 7:30, she walked down the stairs, feeling put together and ready for anything. Or at least that's what she kept telling herself.

Sherlock was holding his violin, staring out the window when she entered the sitting room. He wasn't playing, just watching the street below very pensively. "I'm ready," she said.

He started speaking before he turned around. "I know. Heels, Molly? Are you sure you…" When he was fully facing her, he stopped speaking.

For once, outside of the bedroom, Sherlock was completely unguarded, his face showing every emotion. He was nervous, first and foremost, Molly could easily see that, but he was also surprised, and if she was correct, slightly turned on.

The simple maroon coloured wrap dress was comfortable and stylish. The underwear was… well, 'comfortable' wasn't the right word for it, but it did give her the confidence boost she required. A touch of make-up and a little extra time on her hair and Molly was feeling pretty good about herself.

"You look…" Cocking his head to the side, he seemed to be searching for the right word. "... nice?"

She had to force herself not to laugh. Nodding her head, she walked into the kitchen to check Toby's water dish, really just wanting to give Sherlock a moment after his attempt at a compliment. He hadn't done that except for the occasional word of praise during their 'sessions' since he'd returned. This time it had felt real though, not like a manipulation like in the past when he tried to coerce her into doing his bidding. It was almost... cute.

When she re-emerged from the kitchen, Sherlock was standing in the same spot - he hadn't moved an inch - and he still looked confused.

"Lovely!" he blurted out. "You look lovely."

Molly smiled. Was he working on that the whole time I was out of the room? She had a vague memory of him complimenting her bottom that first night, though it was hazy - probably the drugs he slipped me - it too felt real, not just mindless encouragement uttered in the heat of the moment. But he seemed to struggle with a simple comment on her appearance when she was fully clothed.

"Shouldn't we be on our way?"

He was still staring, but finally shook himself and said, "Indeed," before donning his suit jacket and guiding her to the door.

o0o0o0o0o

Well, this is awkward, Molly thought, sitting just as silently as the other parties to this strange and strained reunion. Mary kept giving her knowing looks as if she wished they could communicate telepathically. Sherlock seemed completely unaffected, but she knew better. John, however, was so tense Molly was certain he was minutes away from a stroke. His eye was a purple, swollen mess.

Angelo, a lovely and effusive man, had come and gone, having taken their dinner orders and sending a bottle of his best wine to the table.

Now they sat, waiting for the storm.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, John looked up and met Molly's eyes. The man looked crushed, like his soul had been ripped out. Oh, come on, John. She loves you, you idiot! She didn't want to lie to you! Molly smiled; he looked away.

That seemed to be Sherlock's cue.

"John," he said, drawing all eyes to him. "This has got to stop. Mary did as I asked and it was for your own good. You have to forgive your wife."

"Fuck you," John grumbled quietly.

Sherlock sighed and sat back in his chair. "What is this accomplishing, exactly?"

"You all lied to me!"

"We've established that."

"Don't! You don't get to be cocky and self-righteous," John bit back.

"Oh, no, I wouldn't dare. You've got self-righteousness down to a science," Sherlock said conversationally. Leaning forward, he continued, but his voice was less controlled. "You were in danger, all of you. You, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. I made a decision based on the best possible outcome and I stand by it."

"Even though Molly's lost her job?!"

"If you were actually concerned about my wife, you might have offered her an apology already."

John sneered. "Your wife." Then looked at Mary as if he was the only sane person at the table. "Your fake wife who you married after your fake suicide."

Molly was suddenly very grateful for the private room that Angelo had given them.

He turned his hateful glare to her. "Enjoying the married life, Molls? Tell me, is it everything you dreamed?"

"John…" Sherlock warned.

"Of course you've come to her rescue." He turned his ire onto his best friend. "Everything's always about you! Even my fucking marriage!"

Before Sherlock could respond, the door opened and two waiters came in carrying their entrées. Sherlock and John never looked at their food; they spent the entire time staring each other down.

Once the waiters left Mary cleared her throat and said, "Well, this looks lovely."

Molly couldn't look at her food, too enthralled by the former best friends and their staring match.

"While you two have your cockfight, I'm going to eat," Mary said, digging into her meal.

That one almost caused Molly to giggle, but she refrained.

Sherlock looked at Mary and smiled. "I assure you, it's no competition." Then he returned to John. "So it's jealousy, is it?" He picked up his fork and started poking at his pasta. Molly knew he wouldn't eat a bite.

"Jealousy?" John questioned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's quite simple, really. You're jealous of Molly for knowing my secret, jealous of me for meeting Mary first and jealous of your own wife for being a part of the plot to keep you alive. I'd imagine you're also somewhat emasculated by the fact that I chose a woman as your protector as well as my confidant. Two women, to be exact. That's a bit outmoded, don't you think?" Picking up his glass, he took a large drink of wine and raised a challenging eyebrow.

John was fuming, but he seemed to be trying to compose himself, thankfully. "It's not jealousy, it's betrayal! My wife betrayed me, my best friend betrayed me and Molly…" He huffed a laugh as he turned to look at her. "I always thought you were better than this."

She'd had enough. "Better than what? You didn't know me. Before Sherlock's death, you had barely spoken three words to me."

"That's because everytime we were in a room together you could only hear his voice," he said, jerking his head towards Sherlock.

Molly laughed mirthlessly. He was jealous, clearly had been for quite some time. "You're probably right. But even so, don't act like you have some great insight into my character, John. Even after he was gone, you never took any real interest in me. Oh, we spent time together, of course, but you spent the whole time whinging about Sherlock, wavering between hero worship and doubting everything he'd ever done."

"I…"

"I didn't even mind. You were hurting, I understood that. But don't sit there and cast judgement on me like you're some kind of saint in all of this. You're not."

The table fell silent once again.

Mary was still eating. She seemed to be taking everything in stride but, of course, she'd had weeks of John's anger and spiteful words. She was probably used to this.

"Molly didn't know about Mary. I had no contact with her while I was gone. Mary just showed up in your lives, as instructed, and befriended you both," Sherlock said, cutting through the silence.

Dropping his head to his hands, John sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "How am I supposed to trust any of you ever again?"

"There are no more secrets, no more lies," Sherlock offered. "You know everything… now."

John looked up. "Mary says Mycroft didn't know."

"He didn't. I couldn't trust him, still don't, actually," he said, harshly. Then, with an almost imperceptible softening of his expression and voice, he added, "It wasn't because I couldn't trust you, though, John."

And there was John's apology. John's eyes were filling with tears as he stood. "I... need a minute," he said before rushing out of the room.

The three of them watched him leave, then Mary said, "Okay, where'd the rock come from? It wasn't there this morning." She grabbed Molly's left hand.

Molly was momentarily thrown by the change in topic. She'd never met anyone as cool-headed as Mary Watson in her life, and that included Sherlock. Looking down at her hand, she admired the piece of jewelry for a moment. She hardly ever wore the expensive looking ring. Actually, it was maybe only the fifth or sixth time she'd put it on. Frankly, she didn't really know why she'd done it.

"Ah, it's… I never wore it at the hospital; afraid I'll lose it, so…" Molly said, avoiding Sherlock's eyes. He was looking at her - staring, really - she could feel it.

"It's gorgeous," Mary said, twisting her hand to see the ring at different angles. Then she looked up at Sherlock. "An heirloom?"

Sherlock pulled his eyes off of Molly just long enough to glance in the blonde's direction. "John's ready, Mary. Now would be a good time to talk to him." Then he was looking at her again.

Mary laughed softly, then stood. Putting her hand on Sherlock's shoulder, she said, "Thank you," and kissed the top of his head before leaving the room.

Sherlock nodded.

Turning away, Molly took a drink of her wine. "She's very fond of you, Sherlock," she said.

"She loves you, you know?" he said, causing her to look at him again.

And she did. There was something very special about Mary Watson; Molly was desperate to keep her in her life. "Yes. We've become quite close, or had before…"

"This should end it. John knows he was wrong. They'll be fine, Molly."

"I hope so."

Reaching into his breast pocket, Sherlock pulled out his wallet and tossed a couple hundred pounds on the table. "Do you want that boxed up?" he asked, pointing to her plate.

"Are we leaving?"

"They need to talk now that John's feeling less hostile."


So, Sherlock's a bit keyed up at the moment. That should make for an interesting evening. *wink* Please let me know what you think about the confrontation with John. Did he have good reason to be mad? Is he over it? Should Mary pop him in the head? Thanks so much for reading!. ~Lil~