I'm back about a week later, as promised. And boy am I excited about what has happened since my last update! I can hardly even believe it, but I passed the 200th follower mark and the 300th review mark after chapter 9! *insert marching band, streamers, confetti, and dancers* Yes, I do have one other story that gained a larger amount of traffic. But I know it took way more than 9 chapters to reach that point! So this is rather thrilling to me. :)) Thanks again to all my faithful readers! You guys are always so kind, and I love knowing that you look forward to each update. It's highly motivating!

Speaking of which! Here's the long (sort of) awaited chapter 10! I know I got a lot of you pretty siked for the Sherlolly self defense lesson hehe. So I hope it lives up to all of your expectations. Hey, if nothing else, I learned a lot! I'm ready to kick some butt lol!... I look forward to hearing your thoughts! Now get to readin! ;)

Oh and PS- I'm trusting the internet (and other fan fiction I've read) in that the British word for a man's undershirt is a "vest."... Ok, carry ok.

Sherlock disappeared into his bedroom a while after they'd both eaten, saying that he needed to change. A few minutes later he reemerged wearing some pajama bottoms and his vest. When he walked back into the kitchen, Molly gave him a look that was half embarrassment and half amusement.

"What?" he questioned, looking at her, then down at himself.

"Just...nothing." She pressed her lips together.

"I'm not going to do this wearing my dress trousers and shirt! I doubt that's how an attacker would be dressed."

"A bit unfair though. I don't get to wear anything more comfortable."

"Exactly. That's the point of learning self defense. Any physically dangerous situation you'd be in is unfair. Don't learn how to protect yourself wearing clothing that you'd exercise in. You'd likely be in anything but that in a real life scenario. Are you wearing anything under that jumper though?" he asked while examining her attire.

"Oh, yes. I have a t-shirt on."

"Good. Then just take the jumper off, and that's all the changing you need."

"Alright," she said a bit hesitantly, and then took the garment off.

Sherlock walked over to his chair by the fireplace and took a seat, then he gestures for her to sit in Johns chair. Molly frowned at him as she approached slowly.

"Is my attacker going to offer to have a chat with me by the fire?"

"No. But the first part of your lesson isn't physical at all. You need to learn how to avoid an attack in the first place...Never take the tube if it's late at night and you're likely to be one of the only ones there. Never take a short cut that's out of the way. Stay where there are people if at all possible. At this point the reporters take second place in our list of concerns, because at least they likely don't want to hurt you."

"So you do believe Moriarty wants to hurt me," she asked sadly.

"I honestly don't know what sort of interest Moriarty takes in you. I only know that he probably doesn't want to kill me. If he wanted me dead or just gone he could have let me be exiled. What he wants is my attention, and he wants to hurt me when possible."

"He did want to kill you in the past though."

"True. But I was there with him, in his supposed moment of glory. And he wasn't all that happy. He was almost...disappointed. He said I was the best distraction he had, and now he'd beaten me. He was like a child who wanted to win a game, but once it was done they only wished they could start over. So, no, I don't believe he wants to kill me. He wants me around, because nobody else challenges him like I do."

"But it's possible he could still try to kill your friends?"

Sherlock let out a slow breath. "Yes, it's certainly possible. Though not definite. There's also the chance that he wouldn't want to 'throw away' some good leverage with a single bullet, and then have nothing left to work with. But the point is that at the very least, he could want to hurt you. Anyway...be extra cautious at your flat as well. If anyone knocks at your door, do not open unless you know the person, really know them."

"Oh I don't. I never do that. My father was always going on about that!"

"Good. And if they become insistent about your opening the door, best to simply make a quick exit. Go out the fire escape, and call 999...and then call me of course."

"Of course," she said softly, and thought how warm that made her feel, that he'd require her calling him as well.

"Now! Let's assume just for a moment, that someone is simply trying to kill you. This is valid instruction, not just in the case of Moriarty, but in any case. Especially now with your very public connection to me. Trust me when I say that if anyone pulls a gun on you, you must run. You always run." Sherlock had leant forward in his chair and was looking at her intently.

Molly swallowed as she looked back at him. "Ok."

"I mean it. It's actually highly unlikely that they would get a kill shot if you run. But if they tell you not to move, and you listen, they almost surely will. And when you run, try not to run in a straight line. Run in as random a pattern as possible, thus making it more difficult for them to aim."

"Ok," she said again, nodding her head. "I can do that."

"Good," he said simply, then got up from his seat. "Now, let's assume they simply want to hurt you or abduct you. Time to get up, Molly."

She rose from her seat, and almost the moment she was on her feet, Sherlock darted forward and grabbed both her wrists in his hands.

"Hey!" Molly exclaimed and tried to pull back, with no success.

"Nobody dangerous is going to warn you before they attack. I'm not giving you that luxury either."

"Well what am I supposed to do?" she grunted, still trying to pull backward.

"Stop pulling. I'm stronger than you are, and it's a fight you'll never win. You have to come closer."

"What? Closer?" she frowned.

"Trust me, this works, and it doesn't waste time and energy. Take a couple steps toward me, that's right. Not bend your arms with the goal of bringing your elbows close to my own. Good. Now look at what's happened. My wrists are bent at an awkward angle. This alone may force them to let go. But if not...now I want you to yank your arms straight upward."

Molly then did this and was easily able to pull free from Sherlock's hands.

"Wow. Were you loosening the grip?"

"No. I'm not going to do anything unrealistic like that. It's just the angle you created. It allows for you to have the greater freedom of movement. Let's try it a few more times, just so you can practice."

Sherlock grabbed her wrists three more time and each time she bend her arms and was able to wrench them upward and away. And she gained some more speed with the movement as she became more comfortable.

"There. Good," he said with a nod, satisfied at her competency. Then he looked down and narrowed his eyes. He reached out and gently lifted one of Molly's hands in his own.

Molly's already rapid pulse doubled as he did this, and his thumb very lightly felt the the skin on her wrist as he looked over the area that was a bit red. He raised his eyes to hers again.

He looked a little sheepish, and said in a low voice, "Perhaps I should have been more unrealistically gentle."

Molly licked her lips quickly, trying to gain the ability to push an answer out.

"Uh, n- no. I'm fine actually. Really, I am. I'm just very fair, that's all. I turn red very easily," she said, and immediately thought, oh stupid wording.

Sherlock smirked very slightly as he looked back at her. "Yes, I can see that," he said, and then released her hand. Then he spoke again.

"Right. Now I'll go over a frontal attack. I'll grab you by the neck- don't worry, I won't make this realistic." He gently closed his fingers around her throat.

Molly's hands instinctively went up to grasp his forearms.

"Again, that's a waste of time, and of the little air that you would have circulating. Now, if my arms are bent, you can reach me."

Sherlock moved one hand off her neck and took her hand, placing it at the base of his throat. Molly tried not to let her expression obviously change as her fingers contacted his warm skin. Then he placed his hand back on her neck.

"If you press backward using that hand, you're compromising my airway. And it would force me to at least loosen my grip, probably allowing you to get away. Remember, that in any of these scenarios, all you need to do is make a getaway. There's no need to cause a certain amount of damage or continue to fight them off. I just want you to get away, that's all," he instructed, very seriously.

"I understand. Don't worry, I don't think I'd be interested in hanging around any longer than I have to."

He nodded, then gently replaced his hands around her neck. "Now if my arms are extended like this, you can no longer reach me since my arms are longer than yours. And likely your attacker's would be as well. So instead, take your right hand and swing it around and over my arms as you also turn your body. And as you turn, you'd swing your left arm over and hit me in the neck."

Molly swung her right arm over and turned, then let her left hand come around as well. Although she meant to not actually make contact, she did, and her hand landed instead on the side of his face.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry!" She automatically reached out to touch his cheek briefly.

Sherlock laughed lightly. "It's fine, really. Nothing I haven't felt before." He raised a teasing eyebrow. "Though, in reality, do try to aim for the neck. It's a good deal more effective."

They practiced that move a few more times till Molly felt more competent.

"Alright, now turn around and I'll attack you from behind, like before."

Molly turned around and was very soon rewarded with warm arms wrapping snuggly around her body and arms, and holding her in place with her back against his chest. There was a second of stillness and neither of them said anything. Molly certainly had no desire to struggle right now.

"You're not doing anything," Sherlock said, near her ear.

"Yes well...you're not telling me what to do," she whispered back.

"Ah, right, sorry..." He cleared his throat." So in this case, you may have some mobility in your lower arms. If you do, you would want to swing back and hit as hard as you can in the groin area...Let's skip practicing that one."

Molly snorted out a laugh, then he continued.

"If you can't move your arms much, make use of your head. You can swing your head back as hard as possible and hopefully make contact with my face...Again, let's skip the practical application. Now even if I lift you up, attempting to take you somewhere..."

"Ooh!" Molly squeaked as he lifted her feet from the ground and began walking backward. "How can you be so strong? You don't look this strong!"

There was a second's hesitation behind her, then Sherlock said. "As a side note, insults are rarely an effective deterrent against an attacker."

Molly couldn't control the nervous giggling, and it took her a moment to catch her breath. "No, no! I- I just mean you're...you're not a big man. Well, I mean you're not small either though! You are tall! But you're just...slight. No, not slight! I meant slim! Yes, slim, that's the right word. You're tall and slim, and you look um...really good." Her words slowed at the end and she squeezed her eyes and lips shut in embarrassment at the torrent of ridiculous things that were pouring from her mouth.

Sherlock chuckled a little and she could feel it vibrate against her back. "Perhaps this is a good time to tell you that compliments would also do little to help the situation. Anyway...you can still use your head, for one thing. And this also gives you an excellent opportunity to kick. Aim for the knees if you can and you'd just want to kick as hard as possible. This should either drop your attacker to the ground or make them loosen their grip enough for you to squirm free."

Sherlock set her back on the ground and let his arms slide away. Molly took a small step away and turned to face him again. She suddenly felt that there was some unnamed tension between them, and Sherlock was looking at her almost as if he didn't know what to do next. But then he looked away briefly and he swallowed slowly before he spoke again.

"It is of course possible that your attacker could manage to take you to the...ground." He met her eyes again, a bit nervously.

"The ground?" she questioned, and glanced from the floor back up to him.

"Yes, it would also be useful for you to be able to get away in that situation...Shall we?" He gestured downward.

She stared back at him for a moment. "Um, ok." She hesitantly lowered herself and sat down on the floor.

There she sat and Sherlock sat on his knees a couple feet away from her. They looked at each other for a few seconds before he finally took some initiative.

"Right, so...I am going to need to get...on you. Is that all right?"

Molly had to stop herself from laughing. Not so much because of what he said, but more how he looked when he said it. This was the same man who had grabbed her in the middle of a pub and given her a life altering kiss. And yet here, sitting with her on his own living room floor, he looked completely out of his depth.

"Yes Sherlock, that would be fine," Molly answered in a controlled voice and a business like expression.

She leaned back on the floor against her elbows, and Sherlock somewhat hesitantly climbed over her with a knee on each side torso and then leaned forward just a bit, holding her down gently by her shoulders. They looked at each other for a moment, and before Sherlock had a chance to say anything, Molly spoke.

"What are the chances somebody hasn't written or drawn this very thing occurring on this very floor within the past two weeks?"

"They have," he answered immediately.

"Oh, you really think so? I was actually joking."

"Oh I'm not. I'm sorry to say I'm very serious...though the outcome and attire was quite different."

Molly felt her face heat up again and suddenly had a difficult time making eye contact with the face above her.

"Sorry I brought that up," she said quickly."Shouldn't make jokes."

"Fine...not a problem." He cleared his throat. "So...it's actually rather easy to flip a person who's above you, even if they're stronger and larger. All about leverage. You could of course try to swing and hit with your arms, but it would do little good. My face and neck are too far up for you to reach. So you'll be much better off if you just get me off you."

A strong case could be made for the opposite, Molly thought to herself.

"Take your right hand and grasp my right wrist, and your left arm will hold onto my right upper arm."

"Like this?"

"Exactly. Now, take your left leg and move it to the outside of my right foot, thereby trapping it."

Molly did this.

"What you've done is to trap the right side of my body. So if you then raise your hips and roll over to your left, I shouldn't be able to do much. And of course then you regain the ability to get up and away from the person."

Molly nodded. Then Sherlock spoke again.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Oh ok, you actually want me to...um, all right."

With a renewed flood of embarrassment, Molly then raised her hips and pushed over to the side, flipping them over. Then she quickly backed away, not wanting to stay hanging out in that awkward place for long.

"Good," he said with a nod as he raised up on his elbows. "Let's try that again."

Oh God, Molly thought. Please just let me be able to control my face from blushing for the next five minutes!

Sherlock climbed over her again, more easily this time, a bit of the embarrassment having melted away. Molly did the same thing again twice, slowly following the steps. And she was genuinely surprised at how easy it was to throw a much larger and stronger person right off her. These were skills that were useful whether she was the subject of tabloid gossip being watched by Moriarty...or not.

"Where did you learn all this?" she asked taking a couple deep breaths after sitting down again next to him.

Sherlock shrugged. "Picked up some tips from clients, personal research, learning the hard way, and the list goes on. I couldn't be successful in my work if I were completely useless physically. I can't rely on my mind for everything...almost everything, but not quite," he said with a smile.

Molly nodded. "Pretty useful."

He didn't answer for a moment, then nudged her with his elbow. "Come on, one more time. This time try to incorporate some speed. If you can't surprise someone, then what good is an attack?" He gave her a teasing look.

Molly groaned as she complied and lay on her back again. He was trying to provoke her. She smiled to herself inwardly. If he wanted speed and surprise, she'd give it to him...

Sherlock barely had time to position himself over her before she grabbed his arm and trapped his leg like lightening, then instantly flipped them over. Sherlock let out a grunt as his back hit the floor much harder this time. Then, instead of quickly crawling away, Molly immediately pinned him to the ground in the same way he had done to her. She grinned down at him as he looked up in surprise.

"Surprise!" she said in a purposefully sweet voice.

Sherlock looked like he was trying not to crack a smile. "I could flip you right back over you know."

"I'd like to see you try." Molly grabbed his arms, trying to immobilize them.

Of course Sherlock easily twisted his arms free and did then flip her back over, though she would later decide that he'd clearly made some sort of effort to be gentle on the hard floor. She started laughing as she reached up to push him but he got hold of her wrists and prevented her.

"Ok, which was it?" she asked while laughing and straining to free her arms. "Did you let me slap you? Or were you really that high?"

Sherlock cocked his head and smiled. "Still haven't worked that one out yet? That must be terribly frustrating!"

In the midst of the giggling, she was able to angle her arms like he taught her, and break free. The second her arms were free she rolled them back over again. And by this time, when she sat there pinning him, they were both laughing. She realized that he wasn't fighting this time, and she simply sat there, trying to catch her breath. When she finally stilled the laughter a bit, she looked down at him and said,

"I deduce..." At which point he raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "You did let me slap you. But I don't think it was because I believed you deserved it. I think it was because you did."

His expression changed and became more serious, though he didn't look angry. Molly paused for a moment, then leaned forward to rest her hands on the floor above each of his shoulders, bringing her face a little closer for effect. She continued in a slightly softer voice.

"In fact, I think you knew that you'd had it coming for quite a long time. Perhaps in more ways than one...Am I getting warm detective?" She raised her own eyebrow in question.

Sherlock stared up at her, unable to tear his eyes away. He instantly began to justify it. Physical activity, exercise, increased heart rate, all causing the release of endorphins. Not a surprising end result. There's nothing unusual about this. If I can just look away, I'll stop wanting to push that piece of hair back behind her ear that fell out of her ponytail. All I have to do is look away...But instead he kept his eyes locked to hers and realized how low and soft his voice had gotten once he answered her.

"You are, Molly...getting warm."

His answer, or maybe more accurately the way he said it, caused Molly's expression to turn a bit more serious as well. She noticed how he visibly swallowed as he continued examining her face. Molly wasn't sure if she should move, and if so, which direction should she move in? Forward, or backward?

Sherlock's gaze fell on the strand of hair again, and for some unnamed reason, it embodied this visual connection that he couldn't break. All he could think about was that strand of hair and how he wanted to take it and gently put it right back where it was supposed to be. He felt his arm begin to move, almost of its own accord, but it wouldn't follow through completely. He felt like an idiot a second later, for verbalizing what he was focusing on.

"Your-" He closed his lips for just a second again before continuing, as if it were difficult to say. "Hair."

Molly had to take a second to realize what he was looking at and talking about, because of course it was a strange conversation shift. Then her eyes shifted to the side a bit and saw the loose strand. "Oh. Right, um...thanks." She tucked it behind her ear.

Sherlock had a sinking feeling. Because that did not solve the problem. The hair had been neatly tucked away, but so help him...he still wanted to reach up and touch her...

"Molly..." he began, but wasn't sure where he was headed. But she spoke instead where he'd trailed off.

"Sorry, do you...want me to move?" she said, not much above a whisper, and she thought to herself what a ridiculous question that was. What exactly was she expecting the answer to be?

"Molly..." he tried again, but still didn't get much further."I..."

They were frozen like that, and barely noticed the sound in the distance of footsteps and a voice. The voice became a bit louder in the background, but neither really registered the whole thing till it was a bit late.

"Sherlock! I think I left my mobile here! I tried calling you, but you didn't-"

And there was John, standing in the open doorway, holding the knob of the door that he'd swung open. He stood there staring back at the two of them on the floor with that familiar I've missed something, haven't I? look on his face.

There was a moment's pause where not a word was spoken. Then John nodded slowly before he finally opened his mouth.

"Yeah, I think this would be a perfect time to remind you of what a good friend I am. Because you do realize that with what I've just witnessed, there's about a dozen papers that would love to make me a very rich man."

Sherlock began to sit up, which also broke Molly out of her fog. She quickly climbed off of him and got to her feet. Sherlock did the same, though they both continued to look a bit like deer in the headlights.

"Relax, John. What you witnessed was a self defense lesson."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" John muttered, just loud enough for Sherlock to hear, as he began scanning the room for his mobile. Though he then noticed that Molly was gathering up her jumper and bag. "Sorry, Molly, you don't have to go. I'm just getting my phone and leaving again."

At that moment Sherlock had seen it on the desk and he shoved it into John's hand.

"Right, see there it is," he said holding up the device for a moment and literally backing slowly out of the room. "So I'm all set, I'll just get going then. Thanks for finding it, Sherlock. Ok, so...I'll talk to you soon. Yeah, alright...bye." John made his hurried exit with a brief wave to the two of them.

Molly turned to Sherlock with a slight grimace. "He really didn't have to go."

"Oh I know, but clearly he thought he did. Now he'll be running off to tell our number one fan all about what he just saw." He ran a hand over his face.

"Oh right, sorry," Molly said, quietly chastising herself.

"Don't apologize, Molly. I'm not that concerned," he replied calmly. Though he sounded a bit hesitant as he added, "Besides...it wasn't just you."

Molly stood there holding her jumper and bag, knowing that this was the end of the night. It was time to take her leave, but she didn't want to go. And she couldn't help but wonder what would have happened had John never arrived. Where was that little scene on the floor headed? What would he have let her do in that moment? At the start, she had naturally resisted the urge to lean down and kiss him soundly, simply because he was Sherlock. But as the moments had been passing, she began to wonder if he actually would have protested. He had been looking at her in a way that she'd rarely witnessed. And it almost made her throw all caution to the wind. If John hadn't arrived, she wondered if she would have ended up leaning forward and pressing her mouth to those perfect lips of his...

And then she reminded herself that it was a good thing that John had arrived when he did. Because she was probably moments away from making a huge moron of herself.

"Well, I'll get going anyway. I do have to work tomorrow. I appreciate the lesson though, Sherlock. Really, I do. I'm sure it'll make me feel a lot more confident when I'm alone."

"Good. I'd like for you to feel safe," he said kindly.

Molly smiled and nodded, then opened the door for herself. But she turned as she was leaving.

"Oh and, Sherlock? No more sneaking up on me. You might be sorry next time," she said with a small smirk.

He smiled back at her in response as she then left and closed the door behind her. Sherlock walked over to the window and watched as she left the front door and hailed a cab. A cab finally stopped and she got in. When it drove off, Sherlock walked away from the window and let out a heavy breath. He found himself staring down at the floor. The now quiet and empty place on the floor, which had been quite the opposite only a few minutes before.

Then he whispered to himself, "I might already be sorry."

Oh Sherlock, when will you learn? Well, I'll just have to make sure he learns, wont I?! I'm trying to break down his walls a bit more now, as you can see. And of course I want to continue with the fun media stuff too, but not much of it fit so well with this chapter. So I'll do more of that next time... Though I have to do some brain storming, because I'm a bit jumbled in my plans as to what will be happening next. I'll get on it though and hopefully another chapter will be in the works for later this week. Again, thanks so much for the support on this story, and I'll see you next chapter! ;)