A/N: Of course thanks again to everyone who is supporting this story and hence me ;-)
And a special thanks to all the Guests (Charlotte, …) who reviewed, who I can't PM back. I really appreciate you taking the time and your kind words made me very happy!

Molly jolted awake the next day, when the connecting door burst open, and her 'neighbour' Sherlock Holmes waltzed in.
"Get up, Molly, the waiting is over, new developments." He had the excited look he normally wore when a case moved forward according to his prediction.
Molly mumbled something in her drowsy state and buried her face in the pillow. Sherlock would have none of it and pulled the blanket off her. Molly could not believe that he had actually done that and quickly reached down to the hem of her pyjama top, which had rolled up during sleeping and revealed her bare belly.
But just like yesterday when she had walked out of the bathroom only dressed in a towel, he ignored her state of clothing (or better lack of it) and went back and forth between the bathroom door and the bed, like a caged lion.
"The Bird Woman contacted me and sent me a picture of our suspect." He flipped the phone around in his hand and showed Molly the image. But he stopped his pacing only for a second to do it, and Molly was busy getting her hair out of her face so that she could see the face of the person properly. But all she could make out was that it was a man – hence it must've been Bert.
Molly sat up and stretched, rubbed her eyes stifling a yawn.
Sherlock resume his wild pacing. "I've already sent the picture to Lestrade, they let it run though the database, but they won't find a match."
Molly could not even open her mouth to ask why he thought so, because he continued, "They've sent people over to St. Paul's, and as soon as the Bird Woman spots him again, we'll have him!" There was a glint in his eyes that Molly found a little disturbing. She reached forward to grab some of the blanket Sherlock had snatched away in order to cover her bare feet which began to feel cold.
She cleared her throat before she spoke, "But if we get Burt and Mary Poppins will hear about this, what will happen to Jane and Michael?"
Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks and grinned from ear to ear, clearly pleased Molly was keeping up. "That's why we won't take him in custody, but follow him back to Mary Poppins. That way we'll find their hiding place."
Molly wanted to say something, but he beat her to it, "And now get dressed already, otherwise I'll leave without you."
He went back into his room. She called after him, "What about breakfast?"
"Boring!" came his muffled call through the connecting door.

Molly hurried to get ready, because she knew Sherlock leaving her behind was no hollow threat – he would do it, without thinking twice. She had seen him doing it countless times with John, and he had done it with her before as well. Therefore she put on her clothes, brushed her teeth and stuffed some biscuits she had brought along into her bag. She decided to leave her hair open, since she could not find the hair band. She was just about to exit the room, when her phone vibrated. She expected it to be a text from Sherlock telling her he was already gone, but was pleasantly surprised when it was a message from John.

HI MOLLY. HOPE YOU'RE DOING FINE. HAVE YOU SEEN OR TALKED TO SHERLOCK LATELY? HE'S NOT ANSWERING MY TEXTS. – JW

Molly was a little confused, so she typed back:

HI JOHN. HE'S HERE WITH ME, OR I'M HERE WITH HIM... WE'RE ON A CASE. – MH

It took only seconds for John to reply.

WHICH CASE? – JW

Molly typed back just as fast, because now she really was baffled.

MISSING CHILDREN. HE TOLD ME YOU'RE NOT AVAILABLE. – MH

Molly was waiting for John's reply impatiently and drummed with her fingers on the display of her phone. Finally it vibrated again.

HE'S NEVER TOLD ME ANYTHING ABOUT A CASE. – JW

Molly did not know what to reply to that. So Sherlock had lied to her... again. But somehow she could not find it in her to be mad at him. Because that way she had the opportunity to go on a case with him. But why didn't he just tell me the truth? Molly knew the answer even while she was asking herself this question: Because he is Sherlock Holmes.

There was another message from John:

HE CAN BE QUITE RUDE WHEN ON A CASE. DON'T TAKE IT PERSONALLY. – JW

Molly was touched by his concern. She could picture his face with a frown, apologizing for the weird ways of his ex-flat mate.

THANKS JOHN. I WON'T. GREETINGS TO MARY. – MH

Then she heard Sherlock's impatient voice coming from his room.
"Molly?!"
"I'm here." She opened the door and stuffed the phone into her bag. He looked at it for an instant, then back at her.
"So it is true what they say," he sounded bored.
"What is true?" She followed him to the front door of his room.
"That it takes ages for women to get ready."

After giving the driver the address, Sherlock remained silent. It did not bother Molly. On the contrary: She was not a morning person and therefore was glad for the mutual silence they shared. It gave her time to think about John's texts and eat some biscuits. She didn't offer Sherlock some, knowing he would decline.
Why didn't Sherlock tell him about the case? Why didn't he just tell me that he wanted me to go with him? And why the hell does he want me to accompany him in the first place?

It must have shown on her face that Molly was deep in thought, because suddenly the deep baritone from the man beside her rang to her through the haze of her muddled thoughts.
"What's bothering you?"
"Nothing," she answered a little too quickly, almost chocking on a biscuit.
Of course he did not believe her. He gave her his best scolding expression and crossed his arms.
"It's nothing important," she tried to play it down.
"Obviously it is, otherwise you wouldn't think about it so hard."
"I mean... you would find it boring."
"Try me."
She had to admit that she had not been expecting that answer. But when does Sherlock ever do what you expect from him?
She did not dare to broach the subject, because she knew he would just get defensive and either insult her or turn silent, and she did not want any of those two options to happen. Therefore the only way she saw to escape it, was to change the subject.
"Why are we going back to the Banks'? Couldn't we be more help at St. Paul's?"
He sent her a look that said, "I know what you're doing," but answered none the less, "Mrs Banks called me. There seem to be some disagreements between her husband and the police."
"And who would have more experience in disagreements with the police than Sherlock Holmes?"
The detective actually chuckled. Molly stuffed the rest of the biscuits back into her bag.
"So now we're gonna play intermediate, or what?"
"We'll try to reason with Mr Banks."
"Because that's your strongest suit..."
He looked hard at her. But Molly did not find it intimidating. She could sense that the mood was still light.
"Mr Banks is a pompous idiot." He scowled.
Now Molly chuckled. "That's definitely a good starting point to reason with him."
"I'll have to get down to his level of stupidity." He sounded disgusted.
Molly rolled her eyes, but still smiled.

They were just around the corner of Cherry Tree Lane now.
"Any progress with Supercalifragilisticexplialidocious?"
He looked grim as he sat up in order to be ready to leave the taxi in a minute. "No, and I'm not so sure anymore if this has anything to do with Moriarty at all." He sighed deeply. "Maybe I just want it to mean something."
Molly was not really sure if she knew what he meant by that, but tried to reassure him, "I'm sure you'll find the solution eventually."
"Eventually better be sooner than later." He did not sound reassured at all.

The taxi came to a halt. Sherlock paid the cabbie and they both got out. Molly went ahead, and when she passed the garden door, she had the strange feeling someone was tucking at her bag. She turned around, only to find Sherlock behind her looking as indifferent as ever. She shook her head and was greeted by Mrs Brill who opened the front door and gestured them to come in. Loud noises were coming from the study. Mr and Mrs Banks were clearly fighting.
Mrs Brill looked a bit embarrassed. "They're expecting you." She did not even try to take their coats, since they had insisted on keeping them on the last time. The detective and the pathologist followed the housekeeper into the study.

Mr and Mrs Banks were facing each other, both their faces contorted in anger. Mr Banks was out of sorts and his face was red. Molly feared he might get a heart attack. Mrs Banks was just as angry as her husband, but she had a more desperate look on her face. Although her voice had been heard in the hallway as well, she obviously tried to keep calm, as best as possible, while her husband was constantly shouting at her, "I don't care what you think! You don't have the slightest idea how to handle this situation!"
"How should I? This is first time my children are missing!" Her voice cracked on the last words, and tears began to fall. It was not lost on Molly and Sherlock that she had said 'my' and not 'our' children.
"Your crying won't help now!" he hollered and threw his hands up in exasperation.
That was, when Mrs Banks discovered that Molly and Sherlock had entered the room. She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand – which struck Molly as a not-lady-like-gesture that she had never expected from the woman who used to wear expensive designer outfits. But somehow it made her so much more ordinary and suddenly Molly felt endlessly sorry for the poor woman. All her money and her status could not have prevented the hell she was going through now. And above all she was 'blessed' with a husband who did not give a damn about her or her feelings.
Mrs Banks rushed over to the detective and Molly, took them by the arms and dragged them to her husband.
"See, George, Dr Hooper and Mr Holmes are here!" One could not overhear the glee bordering on hysteria in her voice. Mr Banks looked even more chagrined as he eyed Sherlock. He did not even care to look at Molly. And she was glad for it.
"And what are they doing here? Shouldn't they be looking for this Bert guy?" he asked in a pompous tone.
"My contact and the police are working on it while we speak. The more people are involved in the stakeout, the more obvious it will be," Sherlock responded indifferently.
"George thinks the police should arrest Bert right on the spot and not follow him, he..." But Mrs Banks could not finish her explanation of the situation, because her husband interrupted her, "What did I tell you? I can speak for myself, Winifred!" His voice was so loud that Molly and Mrs Banks cringed visibly. Molly could not understand how a man could be so imbued with hatred. Or maybe it is desperation? And this is the only way he knows how to cope?

Sherlock was totally unmoved by the outburst of the man beside him. His voice was calm, but did not lack a snarky undertone that showed how unbearable he thought the man was, "If the police would take Bert into custody, Mary Poppins will probably hurt Jane and Michael. And you don't want that, do you?" He did not answer, but gave Sherlock his best melt-down-and-die stare. The detective was of course ignorant of it and went on, "I thought so. Therefore the best chance to find your children is to follow Bert to the place where he and Mary Poppins are hiding Michael and Jane."
Molly noticed that this had been the first time that Sherlock had called the children by their names – two times in a row. She knew he was doing it on purpose and was once again reminded that nothing Sherlock Holmes ever said was accidental.
Mr Banks eyed Sherlock. "Why should we listen to you, Mr Holmes? Weren't there some inconsistencies in your last case of missing children?"
Sherlock's jaw clenched, and Molly held her breath. She knew this was a tender spot, and she prayed that he would not lose his temper now. But she was lucky, because Sherlock knew that Mr Banks was only trying to provoke him in order to give him a reason to throw him out. That made the man even more pathetic in his eyes.
"I brought the children back, didn't I?" he said evenly.
Molly dared to breathe again, and she saw Mrs Banks do the same next to her. Since Mr Banks could not argue with that, he focused on his wife again, "And we all know this is your fault! You're hiring a nanny without references who turns out to be a kidnapper! If you would care about your children as much as you care about your stupid political career, this wouldn't have happened!"
Mrs Banks took a step towards her man and shouted, "If there weren't any photos on the wall, you would not even know what your children looked like! If you'd only spent a third of the time you spent in the bank with your family, you would know what was going on in your house! So don't you dare accuse me of neglecting my responsibilities!"
Everyone, including Sherlock, was taken aback by her outburst. She had stated it with a vehemence that no one would have given her credit for – she looked like such a fragile woman. Molly could not help but compare her to a bird with a broken wing. But now she had proven that she could soar even when injured.
Mr Banks opened his mouth, but no words came out. After a few seconds he closed it again, sent his wife a vile look and threatened leaving the study, "You better find the children, Mr Holmes!"

There was a long silence after Mr Banks had left the sitting room. Mrs Banks was looking down on the floor, Molly was concentrating on the patterns of her bag, and Sherlock was staring blankly ahead. He tried to get his anger under control. He had tried his best not to let Mr Banks see it, but the man really riled him up. How can a man be so stupid? Ghastly!
He felt an inner turmoil and wanted to punch or shoot something desperately – preferably Mr Banks' face, but since that was out of the question, the wall would do just fine. Just as he was about to contemplate how 'not good' it would be to ruin Mrs Banks' wall, her shy voice interrupted his thoughts, "It's not always easy being in a relationship. Especially if you have kids. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about." She desperately tried to apologize for the scene they had just witnessed.

Molly again felt sorry for her and wanted to squeeze her hand in reassurance, when she noticed Sherlock staring at Mrs Banks with a reptilian coldness, and he snarled, "Why should we? Do we look like a couple? Because we are not – not even close. How you come to the conclusion that we have kids, is a complete mystery to me. What a misconception! Ms Hooper is only here, because some people think, because of my history with the missing children's case with Moriarty, I can't handle it on my own. That's her sole purpose: She's something like my personal nanny. And just like your children, I would prefer to get rid of my nanny, who's following me wherever I go. She is neither use nor ornament."

It was hard to tell which of the two women in the room looked more shocked at Sherlock's outburst. Molly was thrown back by the malice of his words – literally, because she stumbled backwards a few steps. Her eyes went as big as saucers and her face white as the wall, because she could not believe what he had just said. The thoughts were swirling in her head, and she felt dizzy. Sherlock was not even looking at her, but kept his gaze on Mrs Banks. Molly felt paralyzed, and before she knew it, her vision became blurry. Apathetically she lifted her hand in order to touch her cheek, only to find it wet with tears. She let her hand drop and slowly started to walk out of the room. If someone had tried to call after her, she would not have heard it, because she was like in trance. But no one tried to stop her.

The two remaining people in the study were still looking at each other. Both not realizing what had just happened – but for different reasons. Mrs Banks voice was as cold and detached as Sherlock had ever heard her when she finally spoke, "That's exactly why you need a nanny Mister Holmes, because that was downright cruel. I really don't understand how a delicate woman like her can put up with someone like you. You should be ashamed of yourself! And now I would appreciate it, if you'll leave my house. I'm sure you are capable of finding the door on your own. Good day." With that she turned on her heels and exited the room, her head held high.

It took Sherlock a few moments to understand what had just happened. And with horror he realized that he should indeed go, because he had to keep Molly from doing something stupid like overreacting and leaving.