They were in the queue at a sandwich shop when she saw a discarded newspaper with Moriarty's photograph in it. She rushed over and grabbed the paper off of the table. For one horrific moment she had thought that it was Jim in the photo, but then she noticed that he was standing on his feet. She recognized the photo then as one from the trial. She sighed in relief. Tom walked over beside her.

"What is it?"

"Moriarty. The Richard Brook scandal!"

"What?"

"You know the trial of Moriarty? The theft of the crown jewels and the Bank of England."

"When was that?"

"A couple of years ago. You remember?"

He shook his head, "I was never into that kind of thing. The news is just depressing."

"You haven't heard of Richard Brook?"

Tom shook his head.

"What about Moriarty? Sherlock testified at his trial."

"Sherlock who?"

Molly's mouth fell open. She walked back into line carrying the newspaper and feeling every year of their age difference. She held the paper over her face to cover her surprise and read that Richard Brook was now known to be a fake identity, and that Sherlock Holmes had been cleared of all suspicions.

Who had done it? she wondered. Someone had to research the facts and bring the evidence together to get Sherlock's name cleared. Who? Was it Mycroft? Perhaps that was why he had been unavailable. It didn't seem to be his style though. That was more like the kind of work that Inspector Greg Lestrade would do. It had been ages since she had seen any of the Scotland Yard people. It was Sherlock who had brought them to Barts. He refused to do his research anywhere else.

Molly smiled as she remembered Sherlock saying, "You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you." The memory alone was enough to make her blush right down to her roots.

After lunch, Molly hurried off to work. She wanted to know if she had any messages from Sherlock. There was nothing from him in her locker, her desk, or her phone. She did, however, have a message from the bank. The payment for Jim's stay this month had been returned. She called the bank, but they referred her to the hospital who said that it had already been paid by Mr Hoehn himself.

That afternoon, she left work early to visit Jim. When he answered the door, she was surprised by his appearance. Jim had dyed his hair and eyebrows blond. He looked completely different. She almost didn't recognize him at all.

"Jim?" she asked.

But then he grinned at her confusion, and she knew him. She would recognize that crooked smile anywhere. He nodded his head toward the back inviting her in. Then he turned his wheelchair and rolled away. She closed the door and followed him inside.

When she turned to hang up her coat and scarf on the hook, she noticed that he had bought himself a new coat. It was short and black, a designer brand. Where had he got the money? It was with trepidation that she walked into the room to find that Jim had redecorated since her last visit.

The computer desk was different. It was longer, and there was an extra computer on it. Beside it stood a low table containing an array of tools laid out in meticulously straight rows. The tea table was out just as it had been before with a tea pot and two cups on it, but there was now a wicker chair beside it instead of the hard wooden one. The chair had a rounded back and a white fluffy pillow seat. It looked very comfortable. It also looked like it would be impossible for Jim to sit in. She hesitated for a moment before sitting down in it.

Jim did some typing, and then he picked up a small disk of plastic and strapped it around his neck like a necklace before turning to face her.

"Hello," he said.

The voice coming from the computer was still mechanical but it sounded warmer, a little more human. He must have been working on it. It was closer to his own voice in tone. It made her shiver.

"Jim," she said with a forced lightness to her voice, "Your hair ... it's ...different. I like it, but why did you change it?"

"I was tired of the old color."

He studied her with his mouth closed and his head tilted to one side.

"A lot has changed since I was last here," she said.

"Then you should come more often," he replied. " You're still dating Tom, I see."

"Well, yes. How did you know?"

"I have my ways," he said with a cunning smile. It was disconcerting how he could talk with his mouth closed.

"So... You seem to have made some new friends."

"Why do you say that, Molly?"

"Well, I don't suppose that you could carry all of this yourself. And ... there's the new chair."

He raised one eyebrow at her. "Yes, I've 'made friends' with an engineer. I messaged him online and he found my suggestions... very useful. He loaned me some of his equipment so that I could continue working on my voice. The chair though, I bought that for you. I wanted you to feel comfortable here." He rubbed his hand up and down the inside of his thigh while he talked. She found herself glancing down at his hand. She forced herself to look at his face only to find him staring fixedly at her. "I'd like for the two of us to spend... much more time together."

Molly furrowed her brow. Was that sexual innuendo? The computer voice sounded flat, but the way that he stared at her ... It was very intense. He was very intense. She sucked in a breath and lowered her eyes. His smile grew even wider.

"Your rent!" she squeaked. "They told me that you had paid it?"

"Yes. My money came through. It is official, I am legally Quincy Hoehn now."

'What does he mean by that?' Molly thought. 'Does he know that he wasn't Quincy before?'

"Thank You, by the way," Jim said. "I owe my new life to you. You made all of this possible."

"No, no, I was just being a friend."

"Then you are a dear friend. A dear...dear...friend."

His hand circled higher and Molly felt her face flush.

"I've also been making money."

"That's wonderful! What have you been doing?"

"Consulting."

Molly stiffened and her voice lowered a bit. "Consulting about what?"

"Design, computers. I seem to have a knack with them."

Molly glanced nervously up at him, "Have you... regained any of your memory?"

He frowned. "No, but I've been exploring my talents. Finding out what I know, and what I don't know. It's strange really. I'm not at all like the records say that I am. I find that I have talents for all sorts of things. Things that I never would have guessed at."

"Talents? For what? What have you been doing?"

"Oh, this and that. There are some things I haven't had a chance to test out yet. Perhaps you'll be able to help me with that."

His voice was flat, and he hadn't said anything particularly suggestive, but for some reason, Molly felt decidedly hotter. She pulled her hair out of the band letting it fall around her cheeks in hopes that it would hide the blush there. When she looked up, Jim's head was tilted forward. His eyes flicked up to hers and she grinned nervously.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked, "I'm sorry, I only have tea. I know that you prefer coffee."

"I do prefer coffee, but... how did you know that? We've only ever had tea together. Did you remember that... from before?"

Jim made a sudden jerk with his head and he frowned. Then he looked up and smiled at her. It looked oddly wrong on his face, as he had practiced the smile in the mirror before hand.

He rolled his chair forward until their knees were touching. Then he grabbed both of her hands placing them on his knee. He maneuvered himself a bit closer then and covered her hands with his own as he pressed them harder against his thigh. "I still plan to take you to Paris," he said rubbing his left hand up and down her arm.

Her neck turned red. "You do know that I'm dating Tom, don't you?" Molly said embarrassed and excited at the same time. "You, I mean, we ... we're friends."

"Yes," he said. "We are very good friends, And I haven't thanked you enough for all that you've done for me." Jim squeezed her wrists tightly with one hand as he reached up with the other and touched her cheek.

Molly was blushing all over now. Jim's smile fell away then and something darker took its place. Molly was breathing heavily. She leaned forward in her chair as Jim's hand traced across her shoulder and down her side. His head tilted and his eyes wandered across her body. Then he stared at her throat as if he might bite it before taking her hand in his and lifting it to his lips to kiss. A moment later he sucked her fingers into his mouth, licking her fingertips.

Molly jumped. Something low inside her clenched in surprise. She tried to say something, but suddenly her mouth didn't seem to work. She simply gaped at him as he nipped at her wrist before turning her hand around and licking curving figures across her palm.

"I think that I might have been good at this," the computer said as he took her thumb into his mouth. She could feel the vibrations that he was making to speak and it was strange how he could do both at the same time. She found herself leaning in closer.

It should have felt gross, but instead it felt incredibly erotic. Molly should have objected, but she was off balance, literally as well as figuratively, because he only had to tug once on her arm to make her fall head first into his lap.

It was the chair that saved her in the end. Her foot got caught in one of the holes in the wicker chair. He tried to pull her up to sit on his lap, but he couldn't because her foot was trapped. Their tug of war caused her and the wicker chair to fall over onto the floor. She had to roll onto her back and point her toe to get her foot out. Then she crawled on her knees and reached through the hole to fish out her shoe.

Not very sexy, she thought as she rose awkwardly to her feet with only one shoe on. Needless to say, the moment was gone. When she looked up, Jim was back in his old place beside the desk.

"Well, uhm..." she said. "I think that I'd better be going now. Good night, Jim."

She turned and rushed from the room grabbing her coat and scarf and stepping outside to blush away from his piercing stare.

She let herself just stand there for a moment cooling in the breeze before she finally pulled her coat and scarf around her. She jumped then at the sound of something heavy crashing down inside. She glanced back at the door. Then she walked away from the flat as quickly as she could.

What had she been thinking? The last thing that she needed was to complicate this with something physical. It was just that... Jim confused her, and his tongue! No, she wasn't going to even consider... that. She put on her gloves as she stood waiting at the bus stop and said.

"I have a nice, normal boyfriend who is NOT a psychopath, and I like it that way!"

Perhaps, if she said it to herself enough times, it might eventually become the truth.