Sherlock met with Molly a few hours after he had trashed his room, the maids where particularly pissed off at him seem as though he got to stay at Mycroft's rent free and they still had to run around after him without any bonus's.

Sherlock would have apologies if it hadn't been for the tall, dark one calling Sherlock under her breathe in another language and the other maid translating everything to Mycroft.

They met at her house, a small cosy house with frill and pink and yellow, cats and moderately stylish furniture.

"Sherlock" she gasped when she opened the door, at first Sherlock thought that maybe john was there so he dipped behind the wall before she called him in.

"Haven't seen John since the hospital today, he has a file on that man you where talking about-"

"Mycroft gave it him." He explained as he sat down on her foamy-cushioned couch beside a black and white tabby cat, "Lama" Molly had explained the name coming from a niece, her brother's youngest and she'd taken it in when it came to light the girl's dad had an allergy.

Sherlock would have commented if he'd actually been listening. He was searching through the news channels, then onto the USB output and was scanning the security camera screen live feeding from Molly's front door, back door, garden and living room.

"Glad to see they're working again" he nodded to the TV turning Molly's attention from the cat to the screen.

"Yeah, Mycroft sent someone a couple of days ago. Nice man."

"Yeah they seem that way"

"What do you mean?' she asked shyly.

"Men… you dated Moriarty"

"You said he was gay, he fooled you" she said, rather pleased with herself for making a comment back.

"I wasn't wrong" Sherlock pointed out.

Molly frowned before realising, of course Sherlock knew everything about him by now. Second nature to him.

Molly fidgeted on the couch, with her long cream cardigan for a while before pulling the courage to mention John.

"He knows you're alive"

"Did you tell him?" Sherlock spat immediately, "because I told you not to, Molly I know you mean well but-"

"No. I didn't… I didn't tell him anything, I just stood back and listened to him building up his own hope… theories" she finished, looking back down at her cat who was curly its self on her lap in a lazy fashion.

"Oh… well good, okay" Sherlock said slowly, not knowing weather to thank her or not. He decided not to.

"He just… he reminds me of you" Molly said sheepishly, not looking at Sherlock.

"Well… I erm, good okay… is that… good?" he asked, stuttering.

"Yeah… you've rubbed off of him" she smiled, looking up but Sherlock was glued to the screen again.

"Well, okay. May I used your shower?" he asked, looking up, repelling molly's stare, she looked back down and nodded. "sure, of course"

Before she could offer coffee or the spare room, he was up, stretching and making his way from the living room to the hall way and the stairs.

John was frozen to the spot, shopping bag and keys in hand, coat hanging onto his shoulder's for dear life but his face was neutral.

"Sebastian" He nodded to the, very much, unwanted guest.

Sebastian flicked the switch on the lamp next to him, the dim glow made it so John had a view of his face; his thin lipped smile curling up to one side of his mouth, an unlit cigarette lazily perched in between his lips. The scar was long and jagged a pale white on his tanned skin. Stubble freckled his chin and jaw bone but unlike the pictures John had seen his hair was a dirty blonde, sticking up in every direction.

"John" He nodded back after was felt to John as hours.

"What do you want?"

"Johnny boy; how rude. No coffee? Tea? No?" He answered himself to John's un satisfied face, unmoving and straight.

"What do you want? Not to kill me." He nodded to the still and untouched long black gun at Moran's side.

In turn he smiled wider at John's deducing. He lent back in the chair lifting his leg over his other and folding his arms… mimicking John's stubbornness.

"Well that's obvious" He answered, "I was going to use if you wiped out that gun o' yours… but…" he trailed off, leaving John frowning before Moran answered John's silent question by nodding over to John's gun, crushed and burnt and left out on John's arm chair.

Sebastian chuckled to himself as John silently cursed himself for leaving the gun alone in the flat.

"Well you are royally screwed" Moran said, rather happily as he stood up slowly, "bit to literal if you ask me… visiting Sherlock's brother… wonder how you pay him for information, then again. I don't think my dear heart could take it"

His voice had changed from rough and happy to a silky, quiet mock and he glided over to John, trending quietly in his thick heavy green army boots.

When he saw John looking at them he smiled again and shrugged "Thought I might have needed to do some running… if you were smart and bough Mycroft back for… instalments"

At his heavy quick wink John lunged out his right fist, the connection to Moran's jaw made him stagger back in pain, his skin flourishing a pink-red colour under the white-brown he'd gained abroad.

He started to tut and spit out blood to the floor

Bit his tongue.

Then he chuckled again; no Johnny, you're going it wrong. You're suppose to aim for the temple.

Everything went black surged in a hot white pain to John's head.