theemptyquarto on tumblr asked: For the "send me a title and I'll tell you what fic I'd write to it" game, how about "Out of Print."

And this bit of silliness is what I came up with as an actual fic cause the title was too good to waste. Rated K+. Thank you as always for your wonderful reviews and for continuing to follow my crazy contributions to this fandom.

Molly stared at the three little words that appeared under the title of the book she'd been so desperate to buy. "Oh no," she groaned, pressing her mobile against her forehead. "Now I'll have to spend the rest of my life scouring the internet and used book stores for a copy! I'll never find out the ending!"

She sighed and looked unhappily at her ragged paperback copy. The one she didn't realize was missing it's final two chapters until she'd got to the heart-stopping confrontation between the two Victorian foes at the top of the Reichenbach Falls.

With another sigh, she put down both phone and her copy of 'The Art of Deduction' by the mysterious and reclusive W.S. Holmes. "I really wanted to know how it ended," she said mournfully, staring once again at the book.

The sound of a throat being cleared behind her made her jump. She turned and saw Sherlock standing in the doorway to her office. "Oh, hi," she said, I didn't see you - did you need something?"

"Actually," he said, sounding almost - hesitant? Embarrassed? Molly's eyebrows shot up in astonishment as he ducked his head and fiddled with his mobile. "Actually, I, erm, couldn't help overhearing about your little dilemma and I thought I could, ah, help you with it."

She smiled and jumped up from her desk. "Oh, do you have a copy?" Then she gave a little shake of her head and a giggle. "Oh, of course you must! Your blog name - did you take it from the book? Is the author a relative of yours?"

"In a manner of speaking." Molly gazed at him blankly. "It's me, Molly," he explained with a sigh. "I'm W.S. Holmes. And that," he nodded at the book lying on her desk, "was the result of a rather vivid hallucinatory experience of mine. Which is why," he added with some asperity, "Mycroft made sure it was taken off the shelves shortly after it was published. Something to do with not rewarding me for taking drugs. Not that I want to be rewarded for that sort of thing," he added hastily, "but it was rather well received by the dozen or so people who were actually able to buy it before it was pulled. May I ask - where you got that copy?"

Molly's head was spinning. The idea of Sherlock as an author - and quite a good one, if this mystery was anything to go by - was a bit hard to believe. "Did John ghostwrite it? Or help you?" she couldn't help asking.

Sherlock looked insulted. "No," he said with a definite sniff. "It was all me." Instantly his expression turned to one of anxiety. "You, er, really liked it, then? You really do want to know how it ends?"

"Well, yes, of course I do," Molly replied. "I mean, I'm disappointed that it came about because of drugs, Sherlock but - yes, I absolutely want to know– oh!" she exclaimed, interrupting herself with wide eyes. "Is that…are Ben and Morris…that's you and Moriarty? And Megan is…"

"You," Sherlock replied with a nod. His voice was calm but his eyes were still anxiously scanning her face. "And it ends rather differently than the actual Reichenbach case." He took a step closer, reaching out to touch her cheek. "Shall I…show you?"

Molly nodded, her eyes falling shut as he leaned down and kissed her.

Like Megan and Ben, eventually she and Sherlock managed their own happily ever after.