Hello fellow Sherlockians! Yes I am mondo late in this update! That rhymed. Truthfully homework wasn't really the obstacle, it was my pure laziness and the fact that I just got a whole bunch of awesome video games too! Gamer here whoop whoop! Now for the review responses ;D

Rocking the Redhead- Thanks! Sorry bout the late update! New chapter coming up much earlier I promise!

Empress of Verace- Thanks so much! It's always a pleasure to see your reviews on a new chapter! Lots of love ;D

Aviatress- Your amazing and random. You just are. Lol thanks for your awesome words :)

Timer2- Hello guest! Thanks! Yes this is my first thank you so much! That is so nice! I can't really tell if your latest review was anger when you said 'you've blown the ending' but yeah. Thanks for the multiple reviews love :D

AdaYuki- Thanks for the review! Here's something that might hold you over for a while! New chapter will come much sooner I promise!

And now on to reading. Are you ready for the story? (creepy Moriarty voice)

Molly's POV

I rode the zipper home and felt the familiar fabric comfortably on my body. I was wearing the lovely peach colored dress that Irene had helped me pick out. It was different than the others and I think that she just gave me those other two dresses to see if I would pick the dress that was truly the one for me. And I did. I have to hand it to Irene; she has a good sense of style, not just for herself but for others. Well, you can't really require going commando under a trench coat style but when she actually did wear clothing, she always looked sophisticated.

"Hurry up, Molly!" Sherlock yelled, his voice muffled from the bathroom door in between us.

I smiled and rolled my eyes at the impatient man as I stepped into my white flats. Heels were never really my thing and I could hardly stay standing when I wore them. Pulling my hair up into an elegant ponytail and draping it over my right shoulder, I placed a simple diamond necklace that Irene had insisted I wore, on my chest. Smoothing down my dress and then my hair, I grabbed the door handle bracing myself for the criticism I would get from Irene once Sherlock and I would meet her in the hotel lobby. Why was I worried about what she thought at a time like this or even at all? She's given me a pretty clear opinion on what she thought of me already.

Shaking off my nerves, I opened the door, walking out slowly. Sherlock was wearing a strikingly black tuxedo with a matching black tie. The contrast of his tux to his face made his fair skin look almost ghostly and made his eyes look bluer than ever. He looked strikingly gorgeous and I felt so underdressed. He was currently busy fidgeting with the cufflinks on his shirt sleeves to notice I was now in the room.

"Need some help with that?"

His hair whipped around as he looked up swiftly, clearly agitated with his problem. It wasn't hard to notice that when Sherlock's eyes fell on me, his expression softened. His alabaster skin didn't hide his bl ush as much as he wanted it to.

"Uh," he said playing with his cufflinks again, "Yes I do."

Did I just make Sherlock Holmes say "uh?" Feeling quite pleased with myself, I walked over and helped him.

"I don't wear cufflinks often," he confessed.

I looked up at him for a brief moment noticing the way he looked at the cufflinks as if they were important or sentimental to him. They must have been acquired when he was with John, I assumed.

"Did John give these to you?" I asked quietly.

"No. I received them as a gift when we had successfully solved a case," he said looking up at me now, "How did you know it had something to do with John?"

"It's just the way you looked at them. Like they were part of a sad memory."

He remained silent.

Within a minute, both cufflinks were secured and he was ready. Well almost. A fedora wouldn't do at this sort of party so he had brought along a top hat that was currently sitting on the small table by the door next to me.

"You look handsome," I told him with a wink.

"You do as well," he said confidently at first but came to a realization, "I-I mean. You look beautiful not handsome. Women can be described as handsome but I assume most would think you were calling them a man."

"Thank you, Sherlock," I said looking down timidly.

"Not just beautiful," he continued, gaining his confidence back and walked in a circle around me only to once again stand in front of me, "Stunning, ravishing, entrancing, gorgeous, elegant, striking, dazzling, outstanding, exquis-"

"Yes, thank you, Sherlock but you don't have to list all of the synonyms of beautiful to make sure I know that's what you think," I stated, shaking my head at him and crossing my arms defiantly.

"Really? Sometimes I think you don't believe me when I tell you such a thing. I do have a few more on the tip of my tongue if you wouldn't mind," he teased, "Mesmerizing, captivating, spell-binding, enthrall-"

I rolled my eyes at him and stood on my tiptoes, pulling his still jabbering lips onto mine. He kissed me back at first, gently placing his lips perfectly on mine each time, but he stopped all of a sudden. I planted my feet firmly on the ground, him bringing his forehead to rest on mine. He took my face in both of my hands and exhaled tiredly, my hands gripping the lapels of his suit jacket.

"Sherlock are you alright?"

"You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be going with," he whispered taking his forehead off of mine and staring into my eyes.

"You should be living your life," he continued, brushing his thumbs over my cheeks gently, "Not following mine. None of this should have anything to do with you but it does because of me. Do you even realize that I've ruined your life?" he questioned, his voice wavering.

"What?!" I asked incredulous, feeling almost hurt.

"I have and you've been too polite to point it out to me," his voice firm.

"Sherlock, no," I took his large hands into mine and gazed up into his intense eyes, "If anything you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. You probably think it would be better if we never met at all but that's not true. I have never regretted the moment you stepped into Bart's and made me fall in love with you. You make me happy, Sherlock and you're the only one that can make me happy the way you do," I said with a nervous laugh.

Sherlock's head cocked slightly in shock or confusion, I couldn't tell. He looked at me intensely possibly trying to deduce if I was telling the truth.

"How can you love a man like me?" he finally asked.

"Because of the kind of man you are," I said laughing at him again, "You help people. You save people's lives all of the time. You always tell the truth and you're loyal to anyone who will put up with you."

Sherlock smiled broadly, reaching around me to grab the top hat on the table, placing it on his head. He still smiled down at me, almost with a hint of giddiness. I reached up, tucking in loose curls under his hat. He was acting so strangely. You could even call his mood silly if you felt the need to specify it. He linked arms with me, like a proper gentleman on a proper date. But that's not what this is. This is such a serious event and Sherlock is acting happy and energetic. It's as if what I said is fueling some sort of high that he would only get when he got a case involving a serial killer. Walking through the corridor, he pushed the button to the lift, it arriving in a few seconds. We walked in, leaning our backs up against the wall. He now put his hand on top of mine, a smile still adorning his face.

"Alright. What's got you in such a mood?" I asked him finally.

"Nothing."

"It's not nothing. What is it Sherlock?"

He rubbed soft circles over my knuckles, "It's just," he said his eyes moving from my hand to look up at me, "You believe in me."

"Of course I do," I stated, still slight confused.

"Not a lot of people believe in me. Not a lot of people used to believe in me that is."

"And the fact that I believe in you has made you act more like a child than you usually are?" I questioned.

"I am not a child," he said with an air of annoyance as if he had been told such a thing on numerous occasions.

"Oh yes you are," I said stepping off the lift, "You're a big man child who huffs and whines as if you were a seven year old boy."

"It's called having an opinion."

Seeing that Sherlock would never admit to his behavior, I decided to drop the matter and switch to a different topic.

"Where are we anyways? I never asked."

"Bristol."

"Bristol?" I looked around as we made our way to the waiting black vehicle, "I've never been. Have you?"

"Only on work business. I still know the area well and my homeless network is spread out far and wide. No need to worry."

"I'm not worried."

"Why is that?"

"Because I've got you to protect me."

He smiled down at me briefly before kissing the top of my head. As we made it to the car and Sherlock opened the door for me, a question still lingered.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Are you worried?"

He looked at me long and hard, contemplating if he should admit something he would consider weak. After a moment of silence he answered, "Constantly."


"You aren't going to be listening in on everything are you?"

"Of course not," Sherlock huffed with a hint of annoyance.

"Sorrrry, if I don't want you two listening in on my snogging with an assassin," Irene practically yelled, getting the full attention, and anger, of Sherlock.

"Bloody hell! Would you mind keeping your voice down? I know very much so that you like to be dramatic but for god's sake!" Sherlock had started to yell with equal volume as Irene had previously.

Calming down for a moment he continued, "Forget it. We don't have time for this nonsense."

Checking his watch he continued, "It's almost eleven and you have to meet Moran at eleven sharp," he said to Irene, "We must get there soon."

Quickening his pace and still holding my hand, I was forced to walk just as fast as him. I bet he didn't even realize that I had to compete with his large strides and long legs. I could hear Irene's heels clobber against the stone sidewalk as she tried to keep up with us. She had let her hair down and wore her skimpy silk purple dress with matching high heels, almost six inches, and a flashy diamond necklace that she said 'didn't clash with her cleavage.'

The building was apparently in sight, as I felt Sherlock's hand slip from mine and wrap around my waist protectively. I rubbed on his back briefly and looked up at him with a reassuring smile. He really is worried. It was now that I fully understood that he wasn't worried about his plan. No. He was worried about my safety. I felt touched and loved but I also felt as if he thought I would easily get myself in trouble. I wouldn't. I can't let myself mess up something as important as this. Besides, I will only engage if I'm needed or if Sherlock is in danger. I can take care of myself now and Sherlock taught me how. I now know that he only taught me self-defense in the event that he wouldn't be around to protect me. If he was dead to be more specific.

Irene interrupted my thoughts, which weren't very happy ones at that, when she spoke up, "I must do the talking or the likes of you won't even make it passed the front door," she said as Sherlock slowed down, allowing Irene to walk ahead of us.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Sherlock questioned.

Irene turned around abruptly causing us both to stop, "This isn't the first time I've been to one of Sebby's parties," Irene leaned in closer to Sherlock, "If you know what I mean."

With a wink she turned around and proceeded to walk the short distance we were away from "Sebby's" party. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sherlock visibly shake his head and slightly his body at the previous proximity of him and Irene. I bit my lip to suppress the laugh that was threatening to escape my lips and Sherlock didn't take notice, his focus now on what Irene was saying to the doorman. He was a large, muscular, African American man who wore a gray suit and held a clip board in his hands.

"Name?" he asked Irene in a deep voice.

"Irene Adler. I'm Sebastian's plus one."

He checked the list briefly and then allowed Irene in. As we started to walk up with her, the man stopped us.

"Who are you two?"

Sherlock was about to speak up before Irene cut him off, "They're my guests."

"Guests aren't allowed to bring their own guests."

"Well," she said moving closer to the man, looking at him in frustration, "Why don't you go tell Mr. Moran that you didn't allow Irene Adler's guests in. See what he would say to that. I would imagine he wouldn't say anything at all but he would…act on it. If you know what I mean," she whispered.

The man looked down at her, anger visibly running through him. After some sort of internal admittance of fear and defeat the man gestured for us to proceed.

"Thanks," she practically spat out to him.

She went to leave him on the stoop furious but she turned back around and whispered to him again, "Oh and don't think I'm not going to tell Sebastian about your incompetence."

BOOM! I call that a cliffy yes! Don't worry Irene won't tell on the guy (that would blow their cover!) It just seemed like the last sentence was kinda a creepy threat so I had to point it out. The doorman is modeled after the awesome actor Michael Clarke Duncan who was in the Green Mile and the Finder. He shared the same birthday as me (December 10th) and he was an awesome actor I loved him lots! He died this year in September so that was like a mini tribute to him. Anyways a new chapter will be up a lot sooner than last time (again I'm very sorry about that. I feel like such a git lol) so don't fret. Leave a review and tell me why you love me (I mean my story. You can say why you love me though) I also used my first page break line thingy so tell me how proud you are of me ;D