It was only a murder-suicide. There was no need for consultation, thank God. Sally Donovan watched as Anderson finished taking note of his findings. She walked towards the window overlooking Baker Street. The flat they were called to was right across from 221B, and she was surprised the freak hadn't come rushing over to see what had happened. In the window of Sherlock's flat, she could see him and Molly Hooper having what appeared to be an intense conversation.

Sally turned away for one moment, distracted by Anderson tripping over his own feet, and when she turned back toward the window, she saw Sherlock unbutton and toss away Molly's blouse.

"I think we're gonna need Sherlock after all," Anderson remarked, approaching her. "There's something sus—" His eyes widened at the sight before him. "Sherlock and Molly! Sherlock and Molly!" He was pointing frantically toward the window. "I knew it!"

"My eyes! I think I'm gonna be sick," Sally added. To her, it was like a car crash; it was disturbing, but she couldn't look away.

Greg strolled over to see what all the commotion was. "What about Sherlock and Molly?" He looked where they were pointing and— "Did he just? And she? Sherlock obviously isn't as clueless about women as we thought." He chuckled. "Good for him."

Sally groaned, wishing she could bleach the image from her brain.

"I told you they were together," Anderson said smugly as he, Sally, and Greg sat at their usual table in the pub. "I wonder why they haven't—oh, Mary!"

"Philip," she acknowledged. "I came as quick as possible; what's going on?"

"Greg and Sally just found out about Sherlock and Molly," he told her enthusiastically.

Mary grinned like the Cheshire cat. "Oh, you mean how they're 'just friends' and nothing more? Sherlock knows that I know about them, but I assume he doesn't know that any of you do."

All three of them shook their heads.

"Shouldn't we just tell them we know?" Greg asked. "Then they wouldn't have to keep it secret…at least not from us."

"Mm, nope! We are in a unique position. John still doesn't know. We won't tell them we know…not yet, anyways." A mischievous look crossed Mary's face. "We could have some fun with this."

"What kind of fun?" Sally asked skeptically.

Mary's eyes lit up. "I'm glad you asked. Tell me, how good are you all at flirting?"

Anderson drew his brows together. "Where are you going with this?"

"Oh no, I am not flirting with Sherlock Holmes," Sally told them. "Get someone else to do it."

Greg laughed. "Anderson already acts in love with 'im! He could do it!"

Philip narrowed his eyes.

"Greg, you're assigned to Molly," Mary decided. "Sally, just do it once and I'll pay you ten quid."

"Twenty quid or no deal."

"Done."

She sighed. "Alright, fine, it'd probably freak him out coming from me." The thought actually made her realise this could be good fun after all.

Greg, Anderson, and Sally awaited the detective's arrival at the scene of the supposed murder-suicide.

"Esteemed colleagues," Sherlock greeted them. "And Anderson."

"Hey!" Sally greeted him. "That, uh, coat looks nice on you."

Sherlock furrowed his brows. "Right."

"Really," she insisted. He was turning away and she felt the material of his coat. "It's softer than it looks, and oh! Have you been working out?" Sally could see Greg behind Sherlock motioning with his hand across his neck telling her she'd made a wrong turn.

"Are you quite done, Miss Donovan?"

With that, Sally backed off not knowing where to go from there. Anderson pulled her aside. "What the hell was that?" he asked. "Sherlock prefers to be complimented on his intellect, not his body."

"And how would you know?" Sally shot back quietly.

"It's obvious," he replied. "The man is a genius and he prides himself on it."

They watched as Sherlock examined where the bodies had been and the room in its entirety. "Definitely not a murder-suicide," he told them. "You see here on the floor was one victim's body, but the other had been posed on the sofa." He searched through the photographs, finding the one he needed. "From this photo, it shows there aren't any defensive wounds on either of them. There was a third person."

"Amazing," Sally remarked. "I wouldn't have caught that. How exactly does that brilliant mind of yours work?"

Sherlock sighed. "What exactly are you playing at, Donovan?"

She sauntered up toward him. "Oh, I'm not playing at anything. I just realised how foolish I've been." Sally bit her lip for added effect. "I think we'd be good together, you and I."

"Ah, so you're a fanatic now, wonderful," he said sarcastically. "Type B, then."

Sally gave a short laugh. "And, uh, what is type B?"

"The 'my bedroom is just a taxi ride away' type," he replied. "I think I'll head over to the morgue to examine the bodies now."

"And see Molly," Anderson muttered under his breath.

Sally's honeyed smile was suspicious enough, but then she had a wicked idea. "Bye Sherlock, miss you already."

Sherlock's jaw dropped when Sally playfully patted his bottom. The man was practically cringing, it amused her to pieces.

"I must be going." He left rather quickly.

Molly Hooper had just begun examining the corpses when Sherlock swept through the door. "Molly, please tell me no one else is expected to arrive."

"My day's going well, thanks for asking," she replied jokingly. "No. No one else is expected…why?"

"The most disturbing thing happened at the crime scene today, I think—well, I think Sergeant Donovan was…flirting with me." Sherlock cringed at the memory.

Molly laughed. "Oh, darling, I think she's taking the mick out of you."

"I'm serious, Molly, something weird is going on here," he insisted. "She practically felt me up."

Before she could reply, Greg strolled in to see how the examination was going. His phone buzzed, revealing the message Mary had sent him.

Go on, flirt with the girl. It'll make Sherlock delightfully jealous. –MW

He took a breath and cleared his throat. "Molly, you look beautiful today," Greg smiled.

Sherlock stiffened.

"Thank…you?" she replied. What the hell had gotten into everyone today?

"So, uh, how are the patients?"

"Still dead," Molly replied as she took note of what she and Sherlock noticed. "There definitely aren't defensive wounds, so your killer is still out there."

"Look at this." Sherlock pointed out track marks on the female victim's arm.

"You thinking drug deal gone wrong?" Molly asked.

"Mm, possibly. Let's check the gentleman's arm, shall we?"

Sure enough, there were track marks on him as well, though they had faded more than the woman's.

"Good find, you two!" Okay, he thought, say something—anything. "So, uh, Molls, what'd ya say we grab a drink after your shift?" Greg asked. "And, ya know, maybe we could head to my place after?"

Sherlock snapped. "Why don't you spend more time doing your job rather than flirting with my pathologist!?"

"Sherlock," Molly berated him in a low voice.

"Leave," he told Greg. "Now."

Lestrade backed out of the room, only laughing to himself quietly when he reached the hallway.

"Now, was that absolutely necess—Mmm!" Molly felt herself being pulled toward him with the hand on the small of her back. His other hand cradled the back of her head, his lips pressing firmly, deliciously on hers.

"Molly," he uttered breathlessly, snogging her as if his life depended on it. It delighted him to hear her sigh against his mouth as his tongue traced her bottom lip. He guided her to lean her head as he trailed down to her neck, finding her pulse point.

"If you're not careful," she breathed heavily, "they'll figure us out."

"Mmm, not sure I give a damn," he mumbled against her skin.

Molly gasped, her eyes widening. Gently, she pushed Sherlock away. He pouted, looking like a wounded puppy. "They know!"

"What?"

"Sherlock, they all obviously found out about us—that's why everyone is acting so strange. They're trying to get us to crack," she explained.

"You know what?" he asked, pointing at her. "You're right. How did I not see that? But how? We've been so careful."

Molly thought for a moment. "Oh God. Oh no. Sherlock, the crime scene was at the flat across from yours."

"…yes?"

"I seem to recall us getting intimate near your window before you carried me to your bedroom," Molly reminded him, blushing at the thought. "They don't know that we know that they know. We're gonna turn this 'round on them."

Sherlock perked up. "I'm listening…"

Back at 221B, Sherlock rang up Sally, putting it on speaker so Molly could hear.

"We are so gonna get them back!" she exclaimed.

"Shhh," Sherlock laughed.

The ringing stopped. She picked up. "Hey you."

"Sally," Sherlock's voice dropped an octave. "I've been thinking about you all day."

She coughed, no doubt surprised by the turn of events. "You what?"

"You made an excellent point earlier—we would be good together," he told her. Molly covered her mouth to keep from laughing. "I must say, I am intrigued."

"Really?" Sally couldn't keep the distaste from her tone.

"I thought we could have a drink or two and come back to my place," Sherlock suggested, his voice dripping with allurement.

"I—I'll have to get back to you on that, okay bye."

Sherlock and Molly couldn't help but crack up after Sally hung up.

"That takes of her," she told him.

"Now what do we do about Lestrade?" he wondered.

The next day, he visited the morgue to find Sherlock. It was urgent. Neither the detective or the pathologist were to be seen, but he heard a rummage from the supply closet, and then—

"Oh, Sherlock!"

"…so good. Molly!"

"Ohhhh yes. Yes, yes yes! Harder!"

All kinds of moans and groans continued to sound from the closet, the man's eyes flaring with annoyance. He threw open the door. "Don't you two have any self-control!?"

There stood Sherlock and Molly, fully clothed, and laughing. "Sorry about that, brother dear, we thought you were Lestrade."

"You two are acting like children!" Mycroft berated them. "Why all the secrecy anyway?"

"We didn't want anyone making a big deal of things," Molly explained. "Plus, it was more fun that way. Well, Mary knows and you know, but now everyone else does too."

"Not John," Sherlock pointed out. "He wouldn't believe it even if Mary told him—and she has told him."

Mycroft sighed. "Anyways, I need you to take a look at these files—sniff out the guilty party."

"I don't work for you, Mycroft," Sherlock told him.

"But you will do it."

Sherlock sighed. "Yes, fine."

When Mycroft left, Sherlock's mobile rang. It was Sally. "Sally, I—what? Seven? I—"

Molly mouthed to him, what's she saying?

"Uh huh. Right, good." Sherlock hung up. "She's actually going to come over. Molly, I'm not entirely sure this is a game anymore."

"Oh yes it is. This has Mary written all over it. I bet she set all this up when she found out that they found out," Molly told him. "We can win this."

"Competitive, aren't you?" Sherlock asked rhetorically. He never realised how amped up she could get over a competition. What was in store for them now?

"Okay, so Greg can't make it—he's just arrested the murderer," Sally told Anderson. The two of them were in a cab headed to Baker Street. Mary and John were already there visiting Mrs. Hudson. Though Mary had concocted this plan, John was unaware of everything going on around him.

When they arrived, Mary was just inside to greet them quietly. "Okay, now, Anderson and I will stay close by on the stairs. Mrs. Hudson is still talking John's ear off. Sally, go on up."

"You think this'll make him crack?" Anderson asked.

"I know it will," answered Mary.

A knock sounded at the door. "Molly, what do I do?"

"Just play along with her. Nothing will ever get too far," Molly spoke quietly. She snuck off to Sherlock's bedroom, closing the door softly.

Sally stood on the other side of the door, waiting for Sherlock to let her in. Mary had adjusted her blouse by popping open two buttons. When Sherlock opened the door, his debonair smile greeted her. He was a good actor, she gave him that.

"Sally, come in." He gestured for her to enter. "I was just, uh, going over some case files."

"I have to say I'm surprised you invited me over," she told him.

"Well, you're a woman who knows what she wants," Sherlock replied. "Would you…like to move this conversation to the bedroom?"

Oh, he's good. "N—No! I mean, not yet." She laughed nervously. "I'll uh, undress and you can…Lotion! You should get us some lotion."

Sherlock swallowed hard. She wasn't backing down, but she was no longer convincing. Sally was definitely gonna crack first. He headed toward his bedroom, closing the door quickly behind him. "Molly," he whispered. "She wants me to get lotion, but her resolve is weakening."

"Make her think you're really serious about this," Molly told him, tossing him her body lotion she kept in his nightstand. "She won't be able to keep the pretense up."

Meanwhile, Sally was out on the landing at the stairs, freaking out. "He's not going to back down, what do I do?"

Anderson reached over and tugged on Sally's blouse, revealing her bra. "There."

"You didn't even break off the buttons," she said in surprise.

"Had a lot of practice," he smirked.

"What in God's name are you all doing?" John Watson stood at the bottom of the stairs having seen the entire situation unfold.

"Sally's trying to seduce Sherlock," Mary told him.

"What the fu—"

"Fun!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed. "Sounds fun!"

"Shit, he's coming back!" Sally returned inside and closed the door just in time.

"Going somewhere?" he asked. Ugh, she could practically hear his arrogance.

"Uh, no," she replied, turning to face him. "I was just readying myself." She motioned to her unbuttoned blouse. Sally slunk closer toward him until they were only inches apart. She tilted her head up, biting her lip. "I want you to kiss me."

"Kiss me first," he challenged.

Jesus, just take one for the team, Donovan. Sally placed her hands on his waist, and pulled him against her. She rose on her toes, and just when her lips were a hair's breadth away…

"No! Okay, fine, you win! I can't do this!"

"And why can't you?" she asked smugly.

"Because I'm in love with Molly!"

The front door burst wide open as well as his bedroom door. John, Mary, Anderson and Mrs. Hudson stood in front of him.

"Sherlock?" Molly came up from behind him.

"Molly," he sighed in relief. "I love you." It was the first time he had said it to her.

"I love you too, Sherlock."

"Awww I thought you two were just doin' it, but you're in love!" Sally exclaimed unexpectedly.

"We're in love," Sherlock confirmed.

John looked around, baffled by the entire situation. "I've missed something haven't I?"

Author's Note: I get this was kinda OOC but I thought it'd be funny anyways! Take it as a crack!fic if you must.