A/N: I know this bit is super short, but it's where it needs to end. As always, huge big THANK YOU's to all my readers, reviewers and favoriters. OK, no such word, that, but I made it up so it must be true. Pretty please, will you review?
Sherlock stormed out of the building and started walking like a man possessed.
It didn't take long for the phone to ring.
Sherlock wrenched it open. "I will not do this!" he hissed.
"Ooo, in a bit of a snit, are you? What's the matter, didn't you like the movie? It's one of my favorites."
"It would be," Sherlock snapped. "I am telling you right here, right now, I will NOT do this!"
"Do what, Sherlock?" Moriarty asked, dropping his voice to sound like a caress.
"I will NOT pretend to fall in love with Molly and you kill one or both of us because of it. I won't!"
"Oh, but you will. You know you will. Because bombs are loud things, Sherlock. They can keep you awake at night. And besides. You still think you can beat me. That alone would make you pretend to fall in love with the devil."
"You ARE the devil," Sherlock whispered.
"Not quite. But thank you. And now it's time for the next step. But since you gave me such a lovely compliment, I'll throw my lovesick puppy a bone: you're on the right track. Too bad it's the wrong train."
Sherlock sighed. "What do you want me to do next?"
When Sherlock came back, John had all the songs separated into folders by the film waiting on the laptop. "Here you go," John said.
"Thank you." Sherlock sat down, eyes flicking over the screen as if debating something. He clicked on the Romeo & Juliet folder and started reading the song titles.
Before he could hit play on the first one he'd chosen, John yawned. "Goodness, I'm tired. More tired than I was the night of the Christmas party. Do you remember that, Sherlock?"
"Of course I do, I was here."
"I love Christmas," John continued. "The surprise of it all, you know? Never knowing what you're gonna get because it's all a secret. Other people know but they can't tell you, of course. And then later you find out."
Sherlock's eyes met his sharply. "I suppose that appeals to some people, yes."
"Bit like a birthday, too, I suppose. Anyway, I'm off to bed. Will I see you in the morning?"
"Briefly. Molly gets discharged tomorrow. I'm taking her home and visiting with her for a bit."
"You are?"
"Yes. I am. Is that a problem?"
"No, of course not. That's… nice of you to do."
"She's had a rough time. She could use someone to be nice to her."
"No one she'd rather have more than you, I suppose," John said.
Sherlock raised his eyebrows.
"OK. Night, then. Oh, by the way, I wrote down how much everything cost for you." John gestured at a slip of paper.
"Thank you."
As soon as John left the room, Sherlock looked at the piece of paper.
Let me know how I can help.
Sherlock almost laughed out loud. Bless you, John Watson.
He crumpled the paper up and threw it away. "It's ridiculous how much music costs," he muttered, and hit the PLAY button for the song.