Chapter 5

Sherlock, he had to admit to himself, had been unsettled since seeing Molly half an hour earlier. That wasn't the way he'd imagined seeing her again. Since she had announced the date of her return, Sherlock had planned their meeting down to the smallest detail.

He would invite her to 221b, ask Mrs Hudson to prepare something, nothing fancy. He would light the fire in the fireplace, dim the lights. He would sit her in John's chair and he would sit in his. Then he would take her hands in his and, albeit with not easily, he would confess to her what was already clear to him from Sherrinford's night but which he hadn't felt ready to admit at the time.

But now Sherlock could do nothing but put off their chat. He had to find out why Molly had deliberately lied to him about the date of her return, and had not done the same with Mrs Hudson and Mycroft. Were all three of them involved in God-knows-what? And where did the little boy who was with Molly at the toy store come from?

As he climbed the stairs that led to Molly's flat he wondered if he could investigate with his usual detachment because the moment he saw her…well, it was clear to him that not only has he missed her a lot but that he was strongly attracted to her. And if in the past he had been able to ignore the needs of his body, now he was no longer so sure he could do it, so strong and intense had been the feelings and emotions in seeing her again.

He used his own key to enter and as he closed the door behind him, he immediately sensed there was a different ambience than the previous week when he had been there to aerate the flat. On the back of the sofa rested Molly's green jacket and her colourful wool scarf. From where he stood Sherlock could see the tea kettle on the stove and the scent of baked scones reached his nostrils. So she had had also time to bake!

He moved cautiously down the corridor. The spare room's door was partially open and peering, he saw two bags full of presents on the bed. Sherlock bit his lower lip hard remembering what an asshole he had been on that Christmas party all those years ago when he had embarrassed Molly and himself in front of all their friends.

In the bathroom, the lemon scent of her shower gel enveloped the space and himself. He crossed the threshold of her bedroom looking wistfully her bed in which he had so often slept. There were a large suitcase lay open next to the wardrobe and a smaller one was resting on the right side of the bed.

There was nothing that was out of place, no receipt or note showing Molly was hiding something. Yet it wasn't like her to lie to him or tell half-truths.

MISSUS HOME – BW

The time it took Molly to open the door to her flat and get rid of her coat, cap and shoes, it took Sherlock to sneak into the spare room and hide behind the half-open door. He spied on her through the slit between the door and its counter frame as she walked down the corridor to her bedroom.

Molly was pulling her hair up in a ponytail and Sherlock noticed she had wireless headphones in her ears, her phone tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. Since when Molly was wearing such tight jeans? His gaze inevitably fell on her firm, round bum. He backed away closing his eyes wondering what the hell he was doing. He knew it was wrong to sneak up on her, but he couldn't help it. Molly was so…Molly that he didn't want to spoil the moment.

"Haven't we already talked about this?" he heard Molly say with a sigh, sounding exasperated. He, being very careful, peeked out to see her better "We made a deal. Let me handle it my way", she casually threw her phone on the bed and with a fluid gesture she unzipped her jeans and slid them down her legs showing so much of her skin. Molly's smooth, velvety, soft skin Sherlock had never seen before.

"Come on, don't be so foul-mouthed! I'm not that type!" she said with a giggle turning her back to the door, "Ah, yes!" more giggles, "What do you suggest? Will you give me some class?". Sherlock's eyes drifted back to her bum barely covered by her cobalt blue sweater that showed off a Brazilian black lace culottes. Wait, wait…so was it possible that the night they shared the bed in the safe house she was wearing that knickers under her ridiculous pyjama!

Molly turned suddenly with a deep laugh "Well, no…just anything no. Can you see me with a riding crop?" he noticed she was blushing and the laughter had become embarrassed. She looked up sharply and Sherlock pulled his head back just in time not to be caught in the act.

Had he heard right? Who the hell was she talking to about riding crop? What did she have to handle her way? Who was foul-mouthed? A man, a woman? No clue.

When Sherlock dared to peer back, Molly had also taken off her sweater and was fumbling with the hooks of her matching bra, "Oh, do shut up!" and saw her turn her look towards a spot in her room where he knew there was a wall mirror. "So…just tell me the truth. Have you been wicked?" her tone had become lower and throaty sending shivers down Sherlock's back.

He couldn't take his eyes off her, "Did you misbehave?" she slid very slowly, at least so it seemed to Sherlock, the straps of her undergarment along her arms until it flung to the ground next to the other clothing. "You know I have to punish you if you misbehaved!" she said intensely and Sherlock began to feel hot and flushed.

What the hell was going on in there? Was Molly rehearsing for something? Sherlock had never heard her use that dominatrix language.

After a few seconds of silence, Molly chuckled amused "Oh, oh! You're so naughty!" she said and crouched to pick up her clothes from the floor using them as a shield for her breasts, "But I don't think yours is the best strategy". A strategy for what? "But don't worry. I've already made my move".

Sherlock didn't have time to think about it because leaning in to watch her release her hair form the elastic band, for a split second he thought he saw something on her skin. Just below her right breast, on her rib cage.

But before he could focus on that patch of skin, Molly began to move towards the door, "Don't be impatient as always! See you on Christmas Eve, as scheduled" she scolded the mysterious caller and then she covered her face with one hand as if what the other said, had embarrassed her.

Just then Sherlock's phone began to vibrate. He rolled his eyes and retreated back to spare room hearing Molly's soft footsteps heading for the bathroom. He retrieved his phone from his trousers' pocket and saw the name on its screen: D.I. Greg Lestrade.

He swore under his breath, waited to hear the shower's splash of water and quietly walked out of Molly's flat. He hadn't found out anything except Molly was chatting with someone on the phone.

Someone who must have been quite sexually uninhibited, Mrs Hudson maybe? Someone who was well versed in strategies, Mycroft maybe? Wasn't that Molly was on the speakerphone with both of them? Sherlock ruffled his hair in irritation at not finding answers.

"I'm all ears, Gavin" he said answering the call once he got to the street, "Gavin!" the D.I. exclaimed exasperated, "Are you serious?" Sherlock burst into a loud laugh, "Sorry, I just can't resist sometimes! Spit it out".

Sherlock once again looked up at Molly's flat, "Manchester. Man found suicidal in his garage, engine running and windows up. But there is no trace of carbon monoxide in his lungs and no signs of strangulation or drowning" Lestrade stopped, "They need you. Already booked two tickets for you and John on the 6.36 am train in the morning".

Sherlock quickly got into the cab hurrying the driver to Baker Street, and called John to arrange for Rosie to look after. For the moment, Molly's mystery had to wait.

While D.I. Lestrade comfortably seated in his office in Scotland Yard was sending a text

THE KING AND HIS BISHOP ARE ON THEIR WAY – GL

getting a reply after a few minutes

THE QUEEN THANKS YOU, FAITHFUL KNIGHT – MH

to which, laughing to himself at the thought of the face Sherlock would make on his return from Manchester, the Detective Inspector replied

HAPPY TO BE AT YOUR SERVICE, MY QUEEN. THE GAME IS ON - GL