So I initially thought about using a real church in London for this murder but decided against it. The St Clements and the Martyrs is entirely fictitious. I should also point out that there will be dark themes, to do with the crime going forward, so the M rating is for that as well as the smut, and there will continue to be lots of smut :).

Aside from all that – it's the weekend whoop, whoop enjoy!

Chapter 10

It was only a few minutes later that Sherlock's phone pinged with an incoming text. He viewed it as he pulled on his Belstaff quickly wrapping his favourite blue scarf around his neck. Molly was still pulling on her shoes as he left, shouting at her to hurry up as he did.

She ran out of the front door carrying her coat just as he flagged down a cab.

'St Clement's and the Martyrs in the city.'

Molly pulled on her coat as they set off before settling back in her seat watching the bright lights whizz by. Travelling in a cab through London at night still excited her in a way only a person who had grown up in the country could be.

Sherlock was busy texting at the same time as talking to her, 'this is the only church where they've had no response. Gavin's team are seeing if they can find another key holder. Forensics will meet us there.'

As it was they were the first to arrive and Sherlock stamped about impatiently. 'For God's sake where are they?'

Molly laughed at him lightly, 'calm down they'll be here soon enough. It's a beautiful, old church isn't it.'

Sherlock glanced round briefly, 'I suppose so...Ah who do we have here?'

A beat up old Volvo had pulled up onto the drive of the church and an elderly man proceeded to get out. 'Hello, I'm Mr Gow, the church warden. Are you with the police? I was told not to let anyone but them in.'

'Yes,' said Sherlock flashing a badge at him briefly, 'do you have the key? Come on, open it up and be quick about it, we haven't got all night.'

Molly sighed, 'thank you so much for coming out, we know it's late.'

'Molly, we don't have time for small talk.'

They walked behind the old man down the path to the church door, 'who's badge was that that you showed him?' Molly whispered as they went.

She was answered unsuspectingly by Mr Gow as he unlocked a small door set into the main doors of the church. 'Here you are Detective Lastrad. Do you need me to come in or should I wait here?'

'It's Lestrade, but yes wait here, my team will be arriving shortly. Come on Molly.'

Molly followed Sherlock into the body of the church before hissing, 'I can't believe you did that, are we meant to be in here? Isn't that an offence...impersonating a police officer?'

She got no response from Sherlock who was busy inspecting the floor and the sides of the pews as he passed them.

'Look here..and here..signs of something heavy being dragged. So the body was being brought from this direction.' He pointed up to the front of the church. As they reached the steps up to the choir stalls he stopped turning a circle, his eyes still down on the ground, before he leapt forward to the left.

Molly followed quietly not wanting to disturb his concentration. She looked around herself but didn't see anything unusual. Sherlock made his way over to an old, wooden confessional tucked away against the nave wall.

At this point he reached into his pocket pulling out a pair of latex gloves which he pulled on before gently opening the left hand door.

He silently pointed to a footprint just inside but obviously didn't find anything else of interest because he soon moved to the right hand door. Immediately he let out a delighted cry, 'yes, we've found our crime scene, Molly. Obvious signs of struggle, the stool has been broken, there are scratch marks on the walls and scuff marks on the floor.'

He was about to continue when there was a shout from the main entrance of the church, 'Bloody hell, Sherlock. You were supposed to wait outside the church. I should throw you off this case right here and now, Anderson's having kittens outside about you destroying the integrity of the crime scene. And why exactly does that old boy think you're me?'

'Well, Gavin if you hadn't taken so long to get here I wouldn't have needed to. As for destroying evidence it's the other way around when your clod-hopping buffoons arrive.'

By this time Greg had made his way down to the confessional nodding a greeting to Molly. 'Alright, please tell me you at least have something for me.'

'Murder took place here. It wasn't planned, obviously something happened during the confession to trigger the murder. I don't think the killer was familiar with the church because he took the body out of the front door instead of using the side door out through the vestry, which would have been closer to the river. Something happened...but what?'

He steepled his hands closing his eyes.

'So you think it's a one off then, we haven't got a serial killer on our hands.'

He opened his eyes again, 'I wouldn't like to say that. This is a God-Fearing person, we can tell that by him coming to confession. He's just killed a priest and, in his eyes, damned his soul. In for a penny in for a pound what's to stop him killing more now. Question is who and why? Oh, this is brilliant. Now Molly there's a single footprint inside the killer's side of the confessional we need to get a sample for us to study at the lab. Come on.'

Greg rolled his eyes at Molly behind Sherlock's back as he knelt to scrape up some of the residue.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

When they got to Bart's Molly left Sherlock to his tests whilst she went and caught up with Mike. He was more than happy to hear that she wanted to return to Bart's but disappointed to hear how she had been treated at Charing Cross.

He agreed to speak to his counterpart and insist on Molly's returning to Bart's on the basis of work load, Molly just didn't want to go down the route of a grievance against Tania and this seemed the easiest solution all round.

She made her way back through to the lab with coffees for herself and Sherlock; if he had found anything interesting it was likely to be a long night.

She was right, it was past four in the morning when she finally threw in the towel and left him to it.

He'd grumbled at her leaving but she'd kissed him on the cheek and told him to leave her instructions as to what else needed doing and, if necessary, she'd pick it up later that same day.

By the time she got back to her own flat she only had energy to change into some pyjamas before collapsing into bed.

When she woke six hours later she found she wasn't alone in the bed. At some point whilst she'd slept Sherlock had broken into her flat, again, and crept into her bed.

She smiled to herself as she watched him sleep still finding the newness of it all fascinating. She was tempted to wake him, wondering if she could or should initiate some morning sex but in the end she slid out of the side of the bed carefully so as not to wake him. She figured seeing as he came to bed even later than she had he needed his sleep.

She had a quick shower and then made her way through to the kitchen. She wasn't actually due into work until the following day, she'd only go in if Sherlock needed help with anything.

She opened the fridge trying to remember the last time she actually went shopping and then wondering if she did shop whether it should be for here or for Sherlock's place...my place...she rolled it around in her head trying to get used to the idea. Was she really doing the right thing moving in with him so quickly? She knew how mercurial he could be, could he drop her as quickly as he picked her up.

She felt instinctively that he could but only time would tell whether he would or not. Which left her back with her decision. Should she give up her home and move in with him?

She sat in her front room with a cup of coffee and some toast as she thought things through. She'd never been the impulsive type, always made the right decisions the sensible choices. The nearest she'd come to being reckless was choosing pathology as a career choice, she still remembered the look of shock and disgust on her mother's face when she'd told her.

But like it or not she came alive with Sherlock. She thought back to that night all those years ago when he'd come to ask for her help. When he'd told her he needed her. She'd known back then that she would do anything for him and she had. What she'd ended up doing, faking his death, faking his autopsy report, signing a death certificate...it had all been highly illegal and it had only been Mycroft's intervention on Sherlock's 'return' that had stopped her being both disciplined and investigated by the police.

She looked around her tiny flat, there were no really good memories attached to this place, no real history. If worse came to the worse she would just rent another small, bland apartment. She nodded her head to herself, smiling, so that was her decision, sod it, she would move in with him. She could hear her dad in her head 'Molly you only regret the things you don't do, not the things you do.'

Right, well if she were moving in she'd better think about how to go about it, starting with a phone call to her landlord to give notice. She put down her cuppa and picked up her phone.

I don't know about you guys but I felt Molly needed to give the 'moving in with Sherlock' decision more thought and consideration. We all get swept up with things in the heat of the moment but she needed to revisit it in the cold light of day.

Next chapter should be posted Sunday.