A.N: Hey guys!

This story just went over the 100 followers! Thank you so much for the support I am so glad you are enjoying it. Of course a special thank you to the ones who took the time to review, you have a special spot in my heart. Also a big hug for Georgia: "Beta-Extraordinaire".

I still don't own Sherlock or its characters.

A bit of Sherlolly goodness for you. Leave a review if you feel like it :)

Steffy2106

Chapter 8:

"Wow, Mrs. Hudson was right – you're losing it," said John, entering 221B and looking around the room. There were so many copies of the weird symbol on the walls, he couldn't even see the wallpaper. "How many times did you draw it?"

"I am not losing it John, I am focusing." Sherlock replied without moving his head, keeping his eyes trained on the wall.

John walked forward to stand into Sherlock's line of vision. "Sherlock…"

Sherlock growled with frustration, meeting John's eyes. "The symbol is the key, John, I know it. I just know it."

"The case has been closed, Sherlock."

"How did they explain the body, John? The body vanished."

"Lestrade said some extremist Catholic group stole the body as they thought he didn't deserve a proper burial."

"That's ludicrous John; you don't buy that, do you?"

"No, but there's nothing we can do." John frowned, seeing the dark circles under Sherlock's eyes. "How long has it been since you slept, Sherlock?"

Sherlock pondered upon that. "What day is it?"

"Friday."

"Forty eight hours," he replied. "Is Molly home, by the way?"

"Molly? Sherlock, what week do you think we're in?" asked John, sitting on the coffee table and looking extremely worried. "It's been two weeks, Sherlock."

"Oh? Ummm then it might have been 6 days since I slept."

John nodded. "Tea?"

Sherlock seemed surprised by the change of subject, but accepted all the same.

"You need to sleep, Sherlock." John said from the kitchen.

"No, I'm fine."

"No. You're not fine. I know the effect of sleep deprivation on people, Sherlock. I'm an army doctor remember?"

"I know myself John, I am just fine."

John shook his head. "You are always so perceptive about anyone but yourself." He sighed. "Just drink up."

Sherlock drunk the tea silently, still staring at the symbol on the wall. He frowned as the symbol started to grow blurry. "John?" His voice was slow and heavy. Sherlock turned to John, but there seemed to be more than just one John Watson standing there in the living room. Dazed as he was, the realisation hit him instantly. "You drugged me." He slurred, trying his hardest to keep his eyes open.

"You need to sleep Sherlock, and you're going to sleep by hook or by crook."

Sherlock woke up with the bright light of the sun coming in from his bedroom window. He turned his head and growled when he saw his alarm clock; it was 2:30pm. What had John given him? He had slept for over 19 hours - more than he usually did in a week!

"John!" He shouted from his room. He heard whispers coming from the lounge. "John!" He shouted even louder.

"Come here, you numpty!" John shouted back from the living room. "You can walk can't you?"

"What did you do to me?!" asked Sherlock, walking into the room. "And what did you do to my living room?" He added seeing the walls bared of all his drawings. "You know, John, it is not a good idea to anger a sociopath."

"Oh just shut it! I gave you one sleeping pill Sherlock, just enough to make you sleep for a few hours… Not my fault if you were so sleep deprived that you slept the entire night! And really, this room looked more like a crazy person's cell. I'm your best friend, it's my duty to not let you get away with crap - and you, my friend, had a bucket full."

"John, you had no right to-"

"Do you want me to call Mycroft?" John challenged, folding his arms across his chest. "Because you know I will if I have to, and I don't think you want that."

Sherlock sighed with frustration and fell heavily in his chair.

"That's what I thought." John put a cup of tea on the table beside Sherlock before going to sit in his own opposite. "You really slipped there."

"I didn't slip John, I was concentrating." Sherlock sniffed the tea and narrowed his eyes at John.

"It's just tea Sherlock, drug free I promise. I need you tonight."

"You need me?"

"Have you forgotten the party? The bachelor/bachelorette party?"

Sherlock frowned. "I thought it was the best man's prerogative to organize such a party. Based on this book-" he said, pointing to the The Best Man's Guide Book on the mantelpiece, "This party should take place within a week before the wedding. I am your best man and had no involvement in this party."

"This is not the traditional bachelor party Sherlock, that one will be your duty – god help us with that. But this isn't the same, it's Mary's friends and some of my Med School friends organizing it. It's a sort of mingle."

Sherlock nodded, taking a sip of tea. "I'm not coming."

"What? Why? Are you mad because of what I did?"

"I am mad, yes, but that isn't the reason. John, you know how much I hate parties. It's only a way for banal and pathetic people to pretend they are happy, to forget their pathetic life for a few hours in a drunken stupor. Really, John, how could this party ever be productive or of any interest for me?"

"It doesn't have to be productive or interesting for you, Sherlock. You are not going there for you, you are going there for me. You're my best friend and my best man. I want you there. I need you there."

Sherlock looked at John silently as a weird feeling settled in his stomach. Sentiment… It was still so recent to him, a foreign, alien experience that was still hard for him to process. The problem with sentiment was that it wasn't rational; and Sherlock was nothing if not rational.

"Mary excluded, you'll be the most important person there. You're the number 3 of the wedding and the number 2 in my life so please Sherlock, just forget about this case, just for tonight and come to the party… Pretend to enjoy yourself, for me…Please?"

Sherlock nodded, still looking down at his cup. There wasn't much he wouldn't do for John. After all, he had been ready to die for him. "I'll come; maybe taking a step back from this case will help me gain some perspective."

John nodded standing up. "Thank you Sherlock, be there by 7."

"I'll be ready."

SHSHSHSHSHSHHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHSHSSHHSSHHS

By the time Sherlock made it to the pub, the party was already going full swing: loud music and lots of people. Sherlock had to fight his urge to wince as he noticed John's eyes on him.

He looked down at John and smiled.

Mary saw through his pretence and mouthed a 'thank you'.

Sherlock actually didn't hate the night as much as he thought he would. Observing people was quite fascinating and quite enlightening, especially as human behaviour in the context of a party wasn't something that was familiar to Sherlock.

"What are you thinking about so intently?" asked Mary, coming to stand beside Sherlock. "Thanks for coming by the way. I know it's not your scene but it meant a lot to John and to me."

Sherlock looked down at her and grabbed the glass she'd extended toward him. "There isn't much I wouldn't do for you two." He smiled. "I'm thinking about human interactions; a vast majority of the people here seem to be looking for a mate."

"It's a bachelor/Bachelorette party Sherlock, people tend to look for someone to be with when a wedding is looming around the corner."

"I don't understand why…It seems like an enormous waste of time."

"Is it though?" Mary shrugged. "I don't think so. We all need someone to love who loves us back, it's human nature."

"It's not in mine."

Mary threw him a quick look and smiled. "If you say so."

"And please ask you friend to stop singing. It's so horrendous I think my ears will start to bleed."

"Come on Sherlock - it's karaoke! It's fun! You should try it," said Mary, elbowing him playfully.

"Absolutely not. I am neither in a mood to humiliate myself nor looking for some stupid sense of recognition from this crowd so no thank you."

"Now let's give a big round of applause for Molly who's going to sing 'The trouble with love is!'" said the karaoke animator.

"Molly Hooper." Sherlock whispered as Molly got on the stage vacillating a little. He frowned; Molly was mousy and shy, extremely far from an attention seeker. This was out of character. "She's drunk." He deduced, talking to himself.

Mary nodded. "Yeah she is."

"Where is that fiancé of hers? Jim?" Sherlock scanned the room, trying to locate him. "He shouldn't let her embarrass herself like that, this isn't right."

"Tom," corrected Mary. "And he's not here."

"Didn't you invite him? I thought it was customary to invite people in couples."

"We did invite him, but Molly said he had to work."

Sherlock sighed. "Somebody needs to get her home. This version of Molly Hooper clearly has her perception impaired and based on statistic, a woman with perception impaired is fifty-two percent more likely to get hurt."

"I'll ask John to take her home."

Sherlock straightened his shirt. "No I'll do it, you two are the guests of honour and it's my duty as best man to accommodate you both."

"If that's your reason…" Mary trailed off.

"What other reason can I have?" Sherlock shook his head. If he was completely honest he didn't trust people around Molly. He cared about her. She was his friend and he wanted her to be safe. There was nothing wrong with that.

Mary shook her head as if Sherlock was missing something - which aggravated him even more - but the song was now finished and Sherlock didn't have time to waste with pointless explanation.

Sherlock reached the stage as Molly was coming down and he caught her when she missed a step.

"Sherlock!" She squeaked, grabbing arms. "You saved me from embarrassment." She chuckled.

Sherlock steadied her; she was much more intoxicated than he thought she was. "I think it is too late for that, you embarrassed yourself plenty on stage but I will always be here to catch you when you fall." He replied which surprised himself. What surprised him even more was that he meant it.

"Oh, Ashley Simpson is going to be jealous." She giggled.

"I don't know this Ashely Simpson. Why would she be jealous?"

Molly giggled again.

Sherlock sighed, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist. "Come on, it's time to get home."

Molly nodded. At least she was still lucid enough not to argue with him.

Sherlock grabbed their coats and hailed a cab whilst making sure she stayed in a vertical position. This was also a new experience for him, Sherlock had never been the kind to worry or care about people.

Sherlock gave Molly's address before leaning back. "Why did you drink so much?"

Molly sighed closing her eyes. "Why not?"

"I don't understand."

"Nobody asked you to." She turned her head to the side and looked at him. "Oh come on, Sherlock, it was a party I wanted to have a little fun. No harm done."

"I guess." He replied, not really satisfied with her answer but knowing she wouldn't share more on the subject.

The taxi was lulling them into a drowsy state and it took only minutes for Molly's head to rest against Sherlock's shoulder.

"It's you." She said with in a sleepy voice.

"It's me what?" He asked turning his head to look down at her.

"My mind palace, the place I feel safe. It's with you."

Sherlock looked at her with surprise, but she didn't move. She was probably already asleep. He had no idea how to process what she just said. Sherlock was someone's safe place… as smart as he was, he'd never would have thought that possible.

He examined her as she slept on his shoulder, her mouth opened in a slight O, her little upturned nose, her long eyelashes... He shook his head and looked out of the taxi window as he felt a wave of tenderness and protectionism that both baffled and choked him.

Sherlock did have feelings, no matter how hard he worked to bury them, but his feelings were limited to basics. He cared, he feared, he even loved in a way, but he'd never before felt the kind of tenderness he was feeling at this instant…Maybe he did drink a little more than he should have. Alcohol had the irritating effect of weakening mental barriers and Sherlock realized that he might have overestimated the strength of his mind walls. He also realized that Molly might be one of his pressure points and that was not something he particularly liked.

"We're here," said the driver, bringing Sherlock back to reality.

"Could you open the door for me? My friend is quite deeply asleep." Sherlock carried Molly bridal style to the door. He looked down at her just after he rang the bell and smiled, she didn't even stir. That was something he didn't know about Molly: she was a heavy sleeper

"Sherlock," said Tom opening the door. Sherlock didn't miss the cold edge in his voice but decided to ignore it. "What happened to her?"

"She drank a little too much… May I?" Sherlock asked.

Tom moved from his spot to the door and gestured Sherlock in before directing him to the bedroom.

Sherlock laid Molly delicately on the bed, removed her shoes and laid a blanket on her.

Tom was leaning on the door frame, arms crossed, lips pursed in reproachfully. "Okay, I can take it from here. Let me show you the door."

Sherlock smiled at Tom. Now the masks were coming down, it was time to play.

"Why did you make her lie for you?" asked Sherlock, stopping in the middle of the living room.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"The DVD on pause, the beer on the table. You weren't working, were you?"

"You tell me, you're the genius after all."

"Ah I see. You didn't come because you didn't want to see me, didn't you? Do you feel threatened by me?"

"Threatened? No, but you're destroying Molly and you don't even see it."

"Molly is my friend, I care for her."

"If that's the case, leave her be. She deserves to be happy and being around you is making her miserable and she doesn't even know it."

"When are you going to tell her about your move?"

"What?"

Sherlock rested his hands under his chin and started to pace back and forth. "You had a job offer, in Cambridge I believe. When are you planning to mention it to your fiancée? The sooner the better, I believe, unless you're scared she'll choose London over Cambridge."

Tom's eyes flashed with anger. "You mean that she'll choose you over me."

"That's not what I said."

"It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to interpret what you said."

"And here I was thinking you were quite thick."

"You know what else doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to understand?"

"No, but I'm pretty sure you're going to enlighten me." Sherlock answered with a mocking smile. He was enjoying this; Tom was neither knowledgeable nor intelligent enough to confront Sherlock.

"You are knowingly messing with Molly's head and you're not doing it out of the goodness of your heart or because you really care. No, the great Sherlock Holmes is doing it because he would hate to lose one of his assets, one of his toys…one of his pawns."

Sherlock laughed. "I find your deductions quite amusing, Tim, I have to give you that. I never heard so many stupid things in one conversation. It was even better than with Anderson." Sherlock sighed. "You have no idea what Molly means to me or what London and her job mean to her. To be fair I don't know why she is bothering with a man like you. You are obviously an-"

"Tom?" They heard Molly call from the bedroom.

"I'm coming!" Tom shouted back, keeping his eyes on Sherlock. "But right now, I'm the one she's calling. Close the door as you leave."

Sherlock smiled. "Of course. But believe it or not, Molly Hooper is my friend and if you don't tell her about Cambridge then I will…be sure about that." Sherlock twirled around and exited the house.