Sherlock waited to hear the click of the lock behind him, then he breathed a sigh of relief. For now, Molly was safe. He touched his fingers to his lips. They still tingled from when he had kissed her, well, perhaps not literally, but he had certainly found the kiss had affected him more than he would have liked. He just couldn't understand it. Why did she affect him so?

He wished he had more time to dwell on matters, to go into his mind palace and really sort through his conflicting feelings, but he simply did not have the time.

He walked quickly to the captain's cabin. He noted that the tattered sails had been erected successfully and that there were several crewmen around, looking vigilantly out to sea.

He knocked at the door to the captain's cabin and was bidden to enter.

Upon doing so, Lestrade rose from his seat. "Well, it appears our quarry is in sight. How fortunate it is that you had one night alone with your bride before this happened, is it not?" He gave Sherlock a conspiratorial wink.

Sherlock flushed. "It is not what you think, Lestrade. We are married in name only. It was necessary for me to have you perform the ceremony in order to protect her from the other crewmen once she was discovered to be a woman. I have been meaning to speak with you about that." He spoke in an authoritative tone.

Lestrade looked at him in surprise. "She is a rather attractive young lady," he remarked. "What is it you wish to discuss about her?"

Sherlock pursed his lips. "If our mission is successful, as I am confident it will be, and we return to port, I ask that you do not file the documents to validate our marriage."

The captain looked uncomfortable. "That would be very unethical, Lord Holmes," he said, frowning slightly at the younger man.

Sherlock had been worried the captain might react this way, so he hastened to explain his reasoning. "Perhaps a little unethical, " he agreed honestly. "However, it would be easier than having to have the marriage annulled. I would prefer to not be required to employ those measures." Sherlock hoped the captain would see the logic in his words.

Lestrade furrowed his brow slightly. "I must say, that is rather a pity. If I had known you did not intend for the marriage to be legally binding, I would have taken her off your hands myself. I have been looking for a wife for some time, and I think she would have suited me admirably. I do not understand why you even had me perform the ceremony, if you were not intending for it to be legal." Now there was a note of accusation in his tone.

Sherlock felt both embarrassment and anger wash over him. He did not like the idea of Lestrade lusting after his wife, short-lived though his marriage might be. "I will be frank with you, Lestrade. When John and I first discussed how it would be best to protect Molly, he suggested marriage would be the most fitting solution. I did not immediately think of merely making a pretence of it."

The captain rubbed his chin thoughtfully before responding. "Nevertheless, you have shared a cabin with her. Do you not think that her honour is compromised, even if you have not consummated the union?" Lestrade raised an eyebrow at Sherlock, who suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable.

The captain was right. He had flippantly assumed it would be easy to buy the silence of the crewmen, but what if mention were made that he and Molly had indeed shared a cabin?

He took a deep, steadying breath. "I had not seriously considered the ramifications of that," he admitted in a low voice.

Lestrade gave him a considering look. "I have an idea, if you will permit me to share it with you."

Sherlock sighed. "Very well. How do you propose I proceed with this situation? We really should not be discussing this now, with Moriarty on the horizon, so quickly, now."

"When we return to port, I will take her as my wife instead. We will forget that I performed your marriage ceremony. She will then have the protection of my name, and the dishonour of her being with another man will no longer be relevant." There was a smile upon the captain's lips as he spoke, as if he very much anticipated having Molly for his own wife.

Anger flared within Sherlock, however. Despite the logic of the captain's words, he simply did not like the idea at all. He tried to put forth a reasonable explanation for his doubt. "What if Molly refuses you? You cannot force her to marry you if she does not wish it."

The captain merely shrugged. "That is true. However, if it is a matter of living in dishonour for the rest of her life as a fallen woman, thanks to you, or being the wife of a respectable sea captain, I would hope she would choose the latter."

Sherlock knew he 'should' feel relief that Lestrade was willing to take Molly off his hands, but he wasn't. Instead, he felt a boiling rage he couldn't understand at the thought of another man, any man, being with Molly. It just didn't make sense, and it confused him.

He didn't have time to reflect on these inexplicable emotions however, for a knock sounded on the door.

Upon being invited to enter, Sherlock saw it was the same sailor who had come to his cabin a short time earlier.

"The other ship is coming closer, Captain Lestrade, Lord Holmes. It is approaching quickly. Some of the more experienced crewmen have said that at the rate it is travelling, the ship will be close enough to send its crew over on rowboats within the hour."

Sherlock suddenly realised he had completely forgotten to wear the clothes he had shown John the night before, clothes that would hail him as an ignorant nobleman. He needed to lull the boarding pirates into a false sense of security with his apparent foppishness and vapid mannerisms.

"Is the crew ready yet to act upon my say so?" he asked the young man.

"Yes, my lord. They know their positions, and those in hiding will be waiting for your signal when the time comes."

"Excellent." Sherlock turned to Lestrade. "I'm afraid I must return to my cabin. It is important for me to don the clothes to fool the pirates into thinking I am nothing more than an ignorant young nobleman whose ocean voyage has gone terribly amiss. I will return shortly."

Lestrade nodded and Sherlock headed back to his cabin. He turned the handle and was pleased to note that it was locked. He knocked softly. "Molly, it's just me. Let me in."

He heard the sound of the door being unlocked and she opened it. Her face was stained with tears. "Surely things cannot be over so soon?" she asked, searching his face for any indication of why he had returned so quickly.

"No, indeed," he answered, as she stood aside to gain him entrance. "The other ship is approaching and will be here in under an hour. I neglected to change into my clothing to make it appear I am nothing more than a foolish simpleton of a nobleman. I must put on the clothes I was wearing last night when we walked on the deck together."

Molly looked at him, biting her lip anxiously. "I don't know how anyone would be able to think of you as a simpleton, Sherlock," she said sincerely. "Your face is full of intelligence, not vapidity."

He was touched by her words. Nevertheless, he could not change his plan now and the ruse did not need to last long. "Thank you for thinking that, Molly. I only need to keep up the pretense for a few minutes, and then the crew will subdue the pirates and Moriarty." He spoke confidently, but suddenly a trickle of apprehension ran through him. What if Moriarty saw through his disguise?

Molly seemed to be thinking upon those same lines. "Sherlock, if you will permit me, I have an idea that may help you to appear less intelligent than you truly are."

He looked at her inquiringly. "What do you propose?"

"I have noticed that you do not wear your hair in the fashion worn by most men of the nobility. I suggest you pull your hair back into a ponytail. It will make for a more severe look on you, and may give the illusion that you are hoping for, at least initially."

He considered her words thoughtfully, then nodded. "That is an excellent suggestion. However, I have nothing with which to tie my hair back."

"Would a strip of material suffice?" she suggested. "When I was altering the length of the britches I was given, I had to cut it. The excess material is still in the box with the other sewing supplies."

He gave her an admiring glance. Not only beautiful, but exceedingly intelligent, he thought to himself inwardly, then wondered why he was thinking such things. "Yes, I think that would be an acceptable substitute."

Sherlock walked over to the wardrobe in which he had hung his clothes the night before, drawing them out and placing them on the bed.

He watched Molly rummaging in the box with the sewing supplies, as he unbuttoned his shirt. He unfastened his trousers as well, noting that Molly was making a conscious effort to not look his way.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, pulling out a thin strip of material and retrieving a pair of scissors with which to cut it to a suitable length.

Sherlock pulled on the trousers and then the shirt. Molly looked up at him then, as he picked up the vest. "Would...would you like me to help you with the vest and the sash?" she asked shyly.

He smiled at her. "That would be most appreciated."

Hesitantly, she took the vest from Sherlock and helped him to put it on, before tying the sash around his waist. "If you sit down, I will pull your hair back and tie it with the material," she said, and he nodded his assent.

He pulled out a chair on which to sit and noticed something on the table. It was a Bible. Apparently Molly had found one in the bookshelf.

"You were reading the Bible before I came in?" he questioned, looking at Molly in some surprise.

"Yes," she said, blushing slightly. "I found it in the bookshelf and was reading some Psalms to comfort myself, and then I was praying for you."

Sherlock's mouth fell open. As far as he knew, nobody had ever prayed for him before. He remembered that Molly had said earlier, before he left the cabin, that she would pray for him. Apparently her words were not merely platitudes. He might have known she was a woman of faith, he supposed. Her manner was that of a woman who was soft and caring.

He said no more but sat patiently and felt her lifting his hair. Her fingers grazed his neck lightly as she worked to fashion his curls into enough order for the ponytail, and he felt his skin tingle where she touched it. He felt her pull the material tight before knotting it so it would remain in place.

He noticed that Molly had a second, smaller strip of material in her hand and wondered what it was for. His question was answered when she moved to stand in front of him and lifted the hair from his forehead, pulling it back as far as possible, and fastening it also with the remaining strip of material, obviously managing somehow to attach it to the first strip of material so it would be secure. His chest tightened as she leaned into him and he saw the soft swell of her breasts through the material of her gown, which he was tempted to touch. He still could not understand what it was about her that attracted him so, despite himself.

"Much better," she proclaimed, oblivious to his internal thoughts. Unexpectedly, she added with an upward curve to her lips, "Although I must say, I much prefer your hair in its natural state."

"Thank you, Molly," he told her sincerely. He stood and looked down at her, seeing the soft expression in her eyes. Once again that uncontrollable urge to kiss her came upon him. He lowered his head to offer her a gentle kiss on the lips. That simple touch once again ignited a flame within him, but he forced it down and, with a decided effort, lifted his head . "I must go," he told her. "Remember to lock your door again," he instructed.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, feeling her tremble at his touch, then he left her, exiting the cabin quickly to return to the captain.

Lestrade was not in his cabin, however. He was on deck with the other crewmen who had been assigned to stand with them. Sherlock realised he had been absent for longer than he was planning, due to the extra time it took for Molly to secure his hair in the ponytail.

Lestrade glanced at him. "The ship is yonder," he told Sherlock in a tense voice. "It is as well we did not tarry any longer. Two rowboats have already been dispatched and are making their way towards us." He gave Sherlock a curt nod. "The hair is a definite improvement in making you look a little more ordinary," he remarked.

Sherlock raised a hand to his hair self-consciously. "It was Molly's suggestion," he admitted. "She pulled it back for me, which is why I took longer than expected."

Lestrade shot him a rather shrewd glance. "An uncommonly fine woman. I shall look forward to having her for myself."

Sherlock's lips tightened, but he forced down that same anger once again and merely asked, "Do you have your pistol?" and Lestrade nodded. He himself had no weapon, not wanting Moriarty to be forewarned. Sherlock, of course, would be the spokesperson when the pirates arrived on deck. "Lower the rope ladders," he commanded two of the crewmen, who moved to the edge of the deck to unroll the ropes and lower them.

As Sherlock waited, he mentally thought about what to say, how to pitch his voice higher and to sound desperately grateful for help.

The men stood silently and waited for several minutes, and then there was the unmistakable sound of men ascending the rope ladders.

The first man to set foot on the deck looked fairly ordinary, Sherlock thought to himself. He was short and rather unprepossessing. However, on closer inspection, there was something in his eyes, something sinister and hateful, and Sherlock knew immediately this was Moriarty. He was certainly confident of himself, in being ready to board before anyone else. Sherlock had to give him credit for that.

Sherlock looked at the other man and began his prepared speech, adopting the higher pitched tone and excitability of a young, rather naïve man.

"Thank you for coming to our assistance," he began, as several more men climbed aboard.

He flicked a glance over at Lestrade, who was still standing beside him, looking rather tense.

Moriarty gave him an appraising glance, but said nothing.

"Yes, well, as I said, we are very grateful to you-"

It was then he saw a slight nod from Moriarty and realised immediately that things were not going to go as planned.

With lightning speed, the criminal pulled out a pistol from a hidden pocket and trained it straight at Sherlock's head. By this time, several more men had climbed aboard the ship and they also withdrew a various assortment of weapons - blunderbusses, pistols and musketoons, and were pointing them at the gathered sailors.

Somehow, they had been betrayed. Moriarty's normal method was to wait for his entire group of pirates to be assembled on board, before he initiated any hostile action. Sherlock had been counting on the element of surprise from his own men, and saw he had miscalculated.

There was no way he could signal the hidden men to emerge now or there would be a firefight and definite casualties. Instead, he looked apprehensively as Moriarty circled around him, keeping out of range of Sherlock's arm. When he had made a complete revolution around Sherlock, at last he spoke.

"Well, well, the famous Lord Sherlock Holmes. Your reputation precedes you."

This was interesting, Sherlock thought, as his brain tried to process the information. Somehow, Moriarty had recognised him, even with his hair back.

The criminal continued. "You've caused me no end of trouble, subverting my plans in the past and opposing me at every turn."

Sherlock suddenly remembered that he had indeed been the cause of some of Moriarty's criminal activities going awry. He could have kicked himself for his foolishness and arrogance in thinking Moriarty would not be prepared. But the question still remained, how had he been recognised, and how was it that Moriarty was prepared for this?

Obviously, the only solution was for him to ask the question. "Very well, Moriarty. I will not spend time in pretending I have no idea what you are talking about. I would like to know, however, how you came to be aware of this. Who betrayed us?"

Moriarty smirked. "You should know better than to talk while servants are in the room."

"Barrow!" hissed Sherlock, immediately understanding to whom Moriarty was referring. "I knew there was something not right about him, but he has been in my brother's employ for several months."

"Oh yes," responded Moriarty with a sneer., "I have been watching you for a long time. You have been a constant thorn in my side with your continual fight for justice. Barrow has been most helpful indeed. His latest information is what has put you in this position of being at my mercy."

Sherlock swallowed. What was Moriarty planning?

"You can't be allowed to continue," Moriarty told him, as a cruel smile curved his lips. "You just can't." Moriarty turned his attention to two of his pirate henchmen. "Go find the doctor and the old woman. The doctor will probably be in his cabin up here, and I expect the old woman will be down in the galley."

Sherlock felt horror wash over him. Was he planning to kill everyone aboard then?

The men hastened to do Moriarty's bidding, and Sherlock kept his gaze fixed on his nemesis. The man's arm never wavered as he continued to direct the pistol at Sherlock's head.

"I've beaten you, Lord Holmes, and in the end it was easy. It turns out you're ordinary just like everyone else." There was a strange note in his voice, and Sherlock was certain the man was insane, which made him even more dangerous. There was just no way to predict what he would do.

"What is it exactly that you want, Moriarty?" Sherlock asked him tersely, trying to keep the dread out of his voice.

"Oh, you're going to jump off this ship and kill yourself," said the man matter-of-factly.

Sherlock stared at him in shock. "And why would I do that?" Even as he spoke, he could see John being led towards him with Mrs. Hudson not far behind. Pistols were pointed at both of their heads as well.

Moriarty made a gesture to another of his men who trained his weapon on Lestrade.

Moriarty gave an evil grin. "Let me give you a little extra incentive." He motioned to the men who were training weapons on Lestrade, John and Mrs. Hudson, and the hostages were lined up against the deck railing.

Sherlock could no longer conceal the horror in his expression as Moriarty said, "Your friends will die if you don't. There's no stopping this now, unless my people see you jump overboard."

Sherlock swallowed again. He knew he was trapped. "If I do this, will you give me your word that you will let them live?" He knew it was probably a foolish hope, but some chance was better than none. If he had to die to protect his friends, then so be it. His only regret would be that he couldn't tell Molly.

"I give you my word that your friends will survive if you jump overboard," said Moriarty, with a twist to his lips.

"Please, give me a moment," Sherlock told him, moving slowly towards the railing.

"I will give you one minute," allowed the criminal, not lowering his pistol for an instant.

Sherlock placed his hand on the railing and closed his eyes. A sudden image of Molly crept into his mind. He hoped she at least was safe. Then in a blinding flash he realised what he had not seen before. The feelings she evoked in him, the jealousy he felt at the thought of another man possessing her crashed into his psyche and exploded. What an utter fool he had been. He had had a chance with her the night before, and he had thrown it away. He was glad Moriarty was at least not aware of her, perhaps she would survive this. She had to survive, because he loved her. He understood now this was not the infatuation he had felt many years earlier. It was the love a man felt for a woman who possessed his heart, a love that he was willing to die for, just as he was willing to die for his friends. And now she would never know it.

"Your minute is up," he heard the sneer in Moriarty's voice.

"No, Sherlock, don't do it," cried Mrs. Hudson in stricken tones.

He turned his head and gave her a sad smile. "It is what it is, Mrs. Hudson. Forgive me for bringing you into this." Then he looked at John. "I should never have brought you into this either. If Moriarty has any honour at all and releases you, please remember the woman we were discussing earlier and tell her I was a fool." He swallowed, then continued, "Tell her I love her."

His voice broke on the last word, and he blinked back tears, as John responded. "I will do that, my friend. I'm glad you finally faced the truth." His friend's voice was sorrowful.

Even as Moriarty laughed at him, taunting him with an, "Oh, the poor man will die a virgin," Sherlock took a steadying breath and steeled himself for the cold embrace of death.

At least Molly will know I loved her, after all, he thought numbly, as he began to climb the railing.

.../.../.../.../.../.../

Back in the real world

In his bed at Baker Street, Sherlock rolled over and groaned. His eyes flickered open when he encountered a soft body and a squeak of protest from said body.

"Sherlock, you're crushing me!" grumbled Molly. "So much for me getting into bed without waking you and getting some sleep myself."

"Molly, sweetheart. Thank God." His arms pulled her so she was on top of him, and he began to kiss her urgently, passionately, the anxiety caused by the dream manifesting itself into his actions of desperate longing.

Author's note: Well, it had to take something huge to make Sherlock aware of his feelings! What do you think will happen next? How will he survive? I know some of you were expecting him to realize his feelings because Molly was in danger, but I decided to take a different route with this.

I do hope you liked the way I tried to bring in some canon-like stuff from TRF, with a different twist. Sherlock will always be willing to sacrifice himself for his friends - that is what makes him a man who is so much more than he himself thinks he is.

So, did anyone guess the footman from the first chapter might come back into it? Did you even remember Sherlock was a bit suspicious of him? By the way, I borrowed the scheming character from "Downton Abbey" (same with Mrs. Patmore in the first chapter).

In case you hadn't realized by the way I ended the chapter, the next one takes place in the "real" world of my Sherlock and Molly, so it will be a little longer till you find out what happens.

As always, reviews appreciated, and they are a definite motivating factor when it comes to publishing. I'm already a little nuts to be publishing 3 different stories at one time, because the proofreading/editing process is quite intense!