The more Sherlock explained, the more Molly's heart fell. Just once she wanted his motivation to come for her to actually be about her, not about what she could do for him. The night previous she had let herself believe, however briefly, that maybe he couldn't stand to be parted but during this flight back to England, he informed he needed her to examine a pair of bodies.

Of course, as a pathologist and a researcher, his reasons piqued her curiosity. Not to mention, it was in her best interests to assist in capturing Sherrinford. Just the thought of encountering him made her break out in a sweat. She doubted she would be able to fool him long enough to get away again should he manage to abduct her once more.

Her mind wandered as Sherlock went silent in the seat opposite and the humming of the plane around her lulled her into a meditation of sorts. Anthea had praised her more than once for being fearless in jumping out the window to get away from Sherrinford. Molly had been brave in the face of death, Anthea had said.

Molly's escape from the second floor of that flat had been the moment she thought she actually faced life. Every second before that she had been preparing for the end. Sherrinford hadn't really physically harmed her in the time they'd spent together, besides a little manhandling when she resisted being strapped to the chair. However, his false reverence at some intervals made her feel like an old hen being cooed to by a farmer as he carried her to the chopping block. Molly believed she had no choice, that the second Sherrinford gleaned his answers and she was no longer a mystery, he would conclude the chapter of her meagre existence.

It was in those moments, despite her one-time bravado about being unafraid about death, she feared what she might leave behind. No, she did not have family, and friends numbered fewer every day, but the frustrating prat who shared the plane might mourn her passing. In addition, there was a very real possibility she might be pregnant. She was not sure when she came to the conclusion, but somewhere in the midst of all the chaos and delays and distractions, she decided to let the chips fall where they may. If she were pregnant, she would stay pregnant because she could not imagine giving up any part of this fantastically complicated and confounding man.

However, there was still the question as to what the hell he was up to regarding her contraception.

Molly stared at Sherlock until he met her gaze. It was now or never since the plane was already beginning its descent. Once they landed, she had no idea what would happen and when they'd get the opportunity to speak again.

"Something on your mind?" He asked.

She scratched at her cast nervously.

"Just ask!" Her inner voice prodded.

"Spit it out, Molly," he growled. "Your internal machinations are distracting me."

She crossed her arms defensively. "Sherlock, erm, before your b-brother took me, I had gone to the pharmacy to get emergency contraception pills but then when I looked in my bag later, they were missing."

His face was blank except for a flutter of his eyelids. "Hmm."

She scooted upright in her chair. "So?"

He sat forward with his chin resting on the tips of his fingers. "So what?"

She blinked at him and sighed noisily. "So, did you take them?"

His lips poked out and retracted swiftly. His eyes curved downwards and to one side before meeting hers once more. Then he sat back and crossed his legs. His foot jittered at the end of his leg.

"No."

Her mouth fell open. "No? No?! They just fell out, did they? From a zipped pocket?"

He squinted. "Yeees."

She could not believe with what she was confronted. "Sherlock Holmes, that was about as bald-faced lie as I have ever heard . . ."

His phone jangled in his pocket. His lips formed an 'o' then he retrieved it and gave her an exaggerated shrug.

"Ooh, look at that," he said with a grimace. "Mycroft! I bet this is very important. Excuse me!"

"Sherlock!"

He held up his finger and shook his head. "Fate of the nation and all that! Really, Molly, contain yourself!"

He proceeded to answer his cell and moved to the back of the plane. Molly slouched in her chair and tapped her foot on the floor while she tried to scratch an itch in her cast with a drink straw. She fumed as she sat there and the Holmes brothers' conversation dragged out. Then the captain's voice crackled over the speakers and informed them they needed to be buckled for landing. Molly leaned out of her seat to glower at Sherlock.

He shrugged again with a grin. Then held his phone to his ear with his chin as he latched himself in. He gave a little wave of his hands as if communicating, "oh darn, how unfortunate about our conversation!" She spun back in her seat in a huff. Git! Git, git, git! Well, he had another thing coming if he thought their discussion was over.

An hour later Sherlock stood impatiently in her flat checking the time on his cell. "Why is this taking so long?"

Molly sighed. "We've been here all of five minutes. I almost have everything I need. I just seemed to have misplaced my favorite necklace."

Sherlock had wanted to take her straight back to Baker street but she insisted on going home for a few minutes to get a few essentials, namely, some extra pairs of knickers. Then, she had thought about her mother's little gold cross necklace and knew she could not leave it behind. A search of her usual spots in her bedroom turned up nothing so she headed to the bathroom. She found it in a little pool at the bottom of her medicine cabinet next to her expired prescription of monthly contraception. She smirked as she picked up the package. She was about to throw it in the bin next to the toilet when she noticed the foil seemed to be separating from the edge of the plastic.

Molly turned the package over and inspected it with a frown. She picked at the corner of the foil and then peeled it away in one little yank. Then she turned the package over to catch the pills. There was something off about them. She fingered them. They looked exactly like her usual pills except . . . they were all the same colour, the wrong colour. There were supposed to be 3 sets of white pills and one set of light blue pills – the dummy pills at the end of the cycle that didn't do anything. Instead, they were all light blue. They were all the dummy pills. She shook her head. She could have taken these and never had noticed because she usually just popped them in without thinking.

She had had these for months. They were supposed to be her next course but since she'd broken up with Tom, she hadn't bothered taking them. She stared down at the separated packaging. Someone had deviously gone to great lengths to tamper with her contraception and only one other person that she knew of had been in her flat since then.

She trembled as she trudged out to the living room with the pills and package in her hand. She wanted to pass out. She felt as if the whole world spun around her drunkenly.

"Molly, we really must be going . . ." Sherlock's words died on his lips.

She chewed her lip a moment and then looked up at him with a furrowed brow. Her nose was scrunched up. She opened her mouth to speak but the words failed on her tongue. She shook her head not once but twice.

"Wh-what is this, Sherlock?"

His face had that slack look, the one she knew meant he was trying to control his expression. She held out her hand. Then she saw it, that little spasm of his left lid, and she knew. Everything she thought had been going on was not at all what it had seemed. She wanted to vomit.

"What is this?!" She screamed and threw the pills at him.

They bounced off him and scattered across the floor. His lips were slightly parted. "Molly . . ."

"Oh, God, don't you Molly me! What the hell are you playing at?"