Lestrade hadn't said anything but it was obvious his wife was in the process of moving out. The television was gone as were most of the dishes. John shot Sherlock warning glances whenever he opened his mouth to comment. They were waiting on Molly and had been for the last hour. Between Lestrade's clear self-pity and trying to prevent Sherlock from making a bad situation worse, it had been a long hour for John.

"It's my fault Molly's not here yet. I sent her some work," Lestrade said as he opened a beer for John. "She should have been here by now," Lestrade continued, looking at his watch.

"She went home to change. She'll be here shortly," Sherlock replied. Lestrade gave him a funny look as the doorbell rang.

"Sorry, got a bit behind," Molly apologized as she came in.

Lestrade's defeated expression turned into admiration as he took in her tousled hair and blue satin blouse. Sherlock offered her a small smile. He didn't have to compliment her. She would know that he'd noticed the color of her shirt, just as he knew she'd spent hours hunting for the right shade, the one he'd complimented her on before.

It was the first time he'd seen her since the morgue. It was exactly like John said it would be, forgotten. There was nothing in her body language that said her thoughts were lingering on their last encounter.

Had she also forgotten their kiss? He could still feel the way she'd melted into his arms, her body compliant and willing against his own. It had kept him awake every night until today - more than a case might have. And he doubted he'd get much sleep tonight either. He was used to this relentless energy when there was a puzzle to be solved. This was the first time he'd felt it for another human being. It was as if every cell in his body had turned on him, conducting an experiment he didn't understand. At the center of it all was Molly Hooper.

"You look lovely," Lestrade said.

Molly turned her head to Sherlock and smiled as if he'd voiced the same opinion. The way she shyly lowered her lashes when she spoke was absolutely endearing.

"Thank you," she replied quietly.

Lestrade guided Molly to the table with his hand in the small of her back. Sherlock opened his mouth to remark on the half-empty state of Lestrade's home and John stepped firmly on his foot.

"Don't you dare," he said under his breath.

"What are we playing tonight?" Molly asked.

"Well I went through my closet. I've got Isla Dorada – unopened, not sure I know how to play that one – and Cyclades and also Finca."

"Let's play Finca!" Molly said, clapping her hands together.

"Finca it is," Lestrade said.

"Have we all played? Well that's a nice change," John said, picking up his wooden pieces. Lestrade was already placing the cards on the board.

"Let's all move 'round the windmill. This game does begin somewhat tediously," Sherlock said as he moved his cart.

"Shut up and play. You're the one who wanted to come," John said good-naturedly.

"I can't wait to see who wins!" Molly said as she collected her fruit.

As the game progressed Molly got more and more quiet. John found himself glancing at Sherlock but he had his eyes on the game. Then Molly gave a little squeak.

"I um… excuse me. I need to use the ladies room," she gushed.

Five minutes later she came back and the game continued. Suddenly it was Sherlock who was silent. He was sucking on his lower lip and clearly having trouble concentrating.

"I need another lemon," Lestrade said, playing with his wooden fruit.

"Sherlock, it is your turn," John said, and went to nudge him with his foot. His eyes went wide as he realized it wasn't Sherlock's foot he was touching. Molly drew back her foot and gave a flirtatious smile to Sherlock, completely unfazed.

"Oh," John said to himself.

"I'll use my token to move," Sherlock said, throwing down the card.

He harvested his share of the fruit and John handed him a little wooden house.

"Put on finca on it," he said in a way that sounded crude.

Then Lestrade took the last orange and everyone complained while they put their fruit back. John was still somewhat distracted by the game going on under the table - as Sherlock and Molly played footsies.

"Just the oranges, John. No need to add bananas to the lot," Sherlock said, amused.

"That's the last tile, let's score points," Lestrade said as he took the last card and put a finca in its place.

"That won't be necessary. You've won," Sherlock replied, sounding completely bored.

"Disappointed?" Lestrade asked, sitting back with his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face.

"Regarding a game of probabilities which therefore reflects nothing of intelligence? Yes, I'm heart broken."

"So you're saying it's all chance? Either of us could win?" Lestrade asked.

"You had a decent strategy as well. John would never win with his."

"Hey!" John said.

"I think you're wrong. I've played this game more times and with better results," Lestrade said quietly, glancing at Molly.

John stopped laughing as he realized what Lestrade was getting at. It dawned on Molly too and she looked in horror between Lestrade and Sherlock.

"I'm never wrong," Sherlock said with a smirk, looking pleased with himself.

"I think you will be," Lestrade answered hotly.

"The game is already over. I've won," said Sherlock.

"I strongly doubt that."

Neither man noticed the anger on Molly's face. She stood up quietly and got her purse. Only when the door clicked quietly behind her did they realize she had gone. Lestrade looked disappointed. John thought Sherlock looked stricken.

"You've really done it this time," John said.

Sherlock could only nod in agreement.