The cab hurried through the empty streets of London. After a good hour of walking he'd broken down to hail one. He couldn't hope to get back to Baker Street on foot. There was nothing to analyze, nothing to think about. So his mind turned to Molly Hooper. The woman who seemed meek on the surface but had an inner strength that made her shine. John had that same strength, the self-confidence of someone at peace with their choices and life. Molly's manifested itself differently. Where John was bold she was timid. She only spoke up for herself when her core was threatened. Things slipped right off her outer shell and when you pushed deeper she pushed back unflinchingly.
He'd first noticed her on Christmas, the Christmas Irene had left her phone. They were such polar opposites of one another. And yet for all her strengths the Woman didn't have the one thing Molly would never lose. Innocence. There was a sweetness to Molly that Irene just couldn't match. And while he and Irene had been moving through their little dance, a dance that could move nations (or at least the Crown), Molly had dressed to the nines to surprise him on Christmas. That had ended rather poorly.
He'd never been the center of someone's attraction before. His mannerisms threw people off before they could even think about him that way. He'd never stopped to consider Molly's affections because he hadn't realized they were there. Of course he'd flirted with her in the morgue. He flirted with anyone he needed something from. Even John – although John would never admit it.
The cab pulled outside 221b and Sherlock handed the cabbie the fare.
"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. You have a good night," he said.
"You too Harris," Sherlock replied.
Adding cabbies to his homeless network had been a good move. John had taken to calling the group the "Baker Street Irregulars" since no one person seemed to appear twice at their door. Of course that was because Sherlock usually went to meet them. Having his network on Baker Street would bring attention to the very thing he needed to keep secret.
Mrs. Hudson had already turned in so he closed the door as quietly as he could and crept up the stairs. John was waiting by a low fire.
"She turned you down did she?" he said.
Sherlock didn't bother to answer. He put the game box down next to his cell cultures on the kitchen table and unwrapped his scarf from his neck.
"Don't be so glum. After all, wasn't my idea to blackmail you," John said.
"What are you babbling about?"
"Blackmailing you to put that video of you singing in the shower up on youtube. That was Molly's idea," John said.
Sherlock sat down in his chair, stunned.
"You're a detective! How could you not have known? I told her about it last time we were at the morgue. She said it would be a great way to get you to game night."
"I don't understand," Sherlock replied.
"You'll figure it out. I'm going to bed."
Sherlock picked up his violin.
"No playing! I've got clinic in… five hours. I need some sleep. Go to bed!"
John hurried up the stairs to his room. At some point Sherlock fell asleep on the couch, violin tucked to his chest like a child.