Here I thought I would go to bed, but I couldn't stop…. Slightly shorter but far more action… Enjoy

Mary laughed, "Oh, I don't think it's as much as all that. She's a good friend is all."

Ainsley folded her arms over her chest. "Bullshit, sorry, no. He's a very difficult man. I know I've been gone a long time, and he is not the boy I left behind, but I do know one thing that hasn't changed. He doesn't treat other people the way he treats her. Mary he actually apologized to her. He did his Sherlock thing, she gave him a look and he apologized. I have only ever seen him act that way with one person." Mary was rapt. "He only does that with me. So, yeah, how long?"

Mary thought back to how long she'd known Sherlock and Molly. He had always been that way with her she thought. It was her normal. Now she wondered too. "I really have no idea. I haven't known them long enough. They've always been like that."

"We need John."

Mary waddled to the living room under the pretense of being too worn out to continue helping with cooking and asked John be a dear and go help Ainsley. He was not prepared for the attack. "Mary thinks I am mad, but I know La, how long has he been in love with Molly."

Unlike Mary however, John was vaguely aware of the shift in Sherlock's treatment of Molly since he'd come back, he knew Ainsley's assumptions were probably right. He'd just not given it much thought until he watched his best friend with his little sister, then things started to make a bit more sense. "I'd say the switch probably came when she helped him fake his death. Honestly, I didn't notice I saw how he was with you. He treats her the same way, that odd mix he has of lovingly telling you to piss off and then treating you like there is no one else in the room. It's fascinating."

"Yeah, I caught that today. I don't think she knows, hell I don't think HE knows. I love my brother, he's possibly the most insanely intelligent man I have ever met, but he also gets so into his own mind that he misses the obvious. I think I may need to have a sibling intervention."

John became nervous. "I don't know about that, I'm not sure if Molly still feels that way about him. Wouldn't want him to get hurt there."

"Oh, she does. No one puts up with my brother for that long if they don't love him." She smiled at John and patted his arm.

"Not gay, married."

"You're cute. Didn't mean to imply, but you do love him. So little sister will play cupid. On that note, tell me more about this DI."

It was at that moment that Sherlock passed through the kitchen to head to his bedroom. "John say nothing, Ainsley, no."

She shot him another look of death and shouted, "I hate you sometimes," at his retreating back.

Sherlock just replied with, "He steals microwaves."

ooOOoo

Molly was just waiting on a taxi outside of Bart's when her phone chirped

Having dinner at Baker St. You should come by, made plenty and we need help outnumbering the boys. 3 – MW

Molly couldn't help but chuckle.

Sounds like a good plan, have some things I need to tell Sherlock anyway, can I bring anything? – MH

Mary sent a text back at light speed.

I wish I could say wine. Something sweet? – MW

Molly fired of a quick 'Sure thing.' Before forgoing a taxi to walk a block or so to a small bakery on the high street. The smell alone of the warm shop made her moan softly, it was a beautifully quaint shop, all pastels and glossy soft sweets. She bend down to examine the multitude of offerings in the case when she heard footsteps move uncomfortably close to her and a familiar voice.

"I'd recommend the Blakewell tarts. They are lovely here." She snapped straight up and spun around, looking for the nearest exit, ready to break into a dead run if she had to, she miscalculated how close he was and gasped slightly as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in tight, kissing her with a ferocity that stole all her breath.

When he finally let her mouth go, she was shaking her voice low and scared. "Jim."

"Oh yes dear, Daddy's home."

ooOOoo

With Sherlock being mysterious in his bedroom, Ainsley seized the opportunity to put a plan into action, almost skipping as she clapped her hands and plopped down onto the couch next to Mary. "Invite Molly to dinner."

Mary laughed softly at Ainsley's almost maniacal glee. "You're a demon, I love it." She quickly shot off texts to Molly. "Done, what now?"

"Now we wait." She pulled herself off the couch and set to finishing cooking, only stopping briefly to pound on Sherlock's door and check that he was not too lost in there. "La, we're having company for dinner, come be nice."

He muttered something about never agreeing to be social, but eventually relented when she started rapping on the door in an annoyingly measured cadence. "Christ, fine!" He went out to the living room to talk to Mary about John, not able to think of a suitable topic of discussion since his mind was still on finding Moriarty, he settled into pretending to listen while he bounced around in his own head. He started at the doorbell. Ainsley smiled, "Oh, that must be Molly; I'll get it, La, would you be a dear and setting the table please?" He glared at her and disappeared into the kitchen. She gave a wink to Mary and John and went to let Molly in leaving the door open behind her.

She opened the door, barely paying attention, "Hey Molly! Come on up, Sherlock's just setting the table." Halfway up the stairs she turned back finally and noticed the man walking close behind Molly, holding onto her. "Oh, Hello, I didn't realize you were bringing a date." Molly looked tense as Sherlock appeared immediately at the top of the stairs, hearing Molly was not alone.

"Ainsley, get up here, now."

"La don't be—"

"NOW! Upstairs!" He moved quickly to plant himself on the stairs between her and the couple, pushing her a little to make her move. John was at the door, reaching to pull her in.

"Oh Sherlock, no need to be rude. Aren't you going to introduce me?" James advanced on them, still holding Molly against him. "Ainsley was it? I'm James, pleasure to meet you." An absolutely lascivious grin slithered across his face. "My, my Sherlock, you do pick pretty ones. Is she working for someone as nefarious as Magnussen or" He mockingly gasped. "Oh my goodness, do I need to change your nickname?"

Sherlock advanced on them slowly. James pulled Molly's arm up tighter against her back, making her whimper in pain. "Were you all set to play fifth wheel tonight little Molly? Anything to get him to notice, huh? Poor little love-struck Molly, never gotten over the Virgin have you?" Molly started crying softly, James putting in a valiant effort to pop her shoulder from its socket.

"Let her go." Sherlock's words were razor sharp and cold. "This isn't about Molly or Ainsley. This is between you and me. Let her go."

"But I thought we could all have dinner, we brought tarts." James walked Molly forward then, easing up on her arm as they moved. "We have oh so much to talk about, let's all just tuck in, shall we?"

"Let her go, tell your boys to stand down, and we'll talk." Sherlock bore holes into him, refusing to back down, and knowing his nemesis would comply. Molly stumbled forward almost into his arms as James let her go. He smoothed out his suit and fired off a quick message.

"All clear now, so, what's for dinner?"

Sherlock put a protective arm around Molly and guided her up the stairs, James following close at heel like an over excited puppy. Everyone in the flat was on edge. Everyone except James and Ainsley. John stood in front of Mary, who was still on the couch, Sherlock moved Molly slightly behind him, keeping a hand on her and a keen eye on both James and Ainsley.

"It's rude to ignore your guests Sherlock, so, lovely Ainsley, you seem like an open-minded girl, your boyfriend here is practically fondling his pathologist, not even a tiny touch jealous?"

"Christ, why does everyone think you are my boyfriend, La?"

"La? So curious. Not your boyfriend and yet so familiar," it finally caught up to him, "oh my, my, so interesting, how dare you never tell me you have a lovely sister Sherlock. Tut, tut, naughty."

He moved closer and closer, Sherlock always between them. "Stop. Now."

"So touchy, I'm just making dinner conversation." James moved to sit at the kitchen table, taking the head seat. "We are still having dinner aren't we? Come on now kids, Daddy says it's dinner time" He pat the seat next to him. "Little sister can sit next to me."

Sherlock took the seat with a glare and motioned for John to sit on the other side of James, trying to keep the girls at a safe distance Molly next to Sherlock, Mary next to John, leaving the opposite head of the table for Ainsley.

"Now that's a shame, I'm going to have to shout all the way down the table to get to know sister."

"You're not here to talk to her. Why are you here?"

"Well, I was here to kill you, but now I want to get to know sister."

Ainsley gasped and turned to look at Sherlock, he tried to calm her a bit with a look.

Mary's hand tensed defensively around the knife next to her plate. "Now, now little mummy, let's not do anything rash here." He swiftly picked up his own knife and slammed it through John's hand and into the table, making him scream and Ainsley shoot up, backing away from the table. Sherlock rose slowly, pivoting himself between the madman and Molly, not daring to move more than that. "When we threaten Daddy, people get hurt. Now, stop right there little sister, don't rabbit off, be a love and serve?" He forcefully yanked the knife from John's hand and casually wiped the blade clean on his napkin, keeping it in his hand. He pointed the blade at Sherlock. "Sit!" Sherlock lowered himself back into his seat, remaining turned toward James, blocking Molly.

John pulled his injured hand to his chest and let out several heavy breaths before letting Mary take it from him to examine the wound.

Ainsley started to move to bring the food to the table, her hands shaking. She carefully set the large serving bowls of pasta and salad on the table, trying to steer a wide path around James.

"Now, now, manners little sister," he turned to Sherlock, "They don't teach them anything over there do they," he'd noted her accent and assumed this long lost sister had been shipped off to the states long ago. "Serve the head of the table first."

She looked to Sherlock and he gave her a wary nod, knowing at this point it was best to just comply with the insanity. She moved next to him and took his plate, carefully serving the food for him. She jumped as he put his hand to her rear end and gave it a perfunctory pat. "There's a good girl, now the other guests." Her breath grew tense and ragged as she moved around the table to serve the others, tears starting to prick her eyes.

Sherlock's jaw tensed as he watched, calculating his options. His phone was in his bedroom so sending a message to Mycroft or Lestrade was out. The table knives were off the list, Moriarty was fast, and had his eyes on their every movement. When he saw him touch his sister, he had to summon all his will to not jump out of his skin and strangle the man, but that would have ended with the knife in the other man's hand buried in a place far more painful than his hand. His mind was racing, a rocket stuck and burning on launch.

Ainsley finally sat back down, shaking and crying softly. She'd never been this scared in her life. She knew that her brother frequently had gotten himself into dangerous situations, but something about the calm yet menacing civility of this happy little dinner scene was making her nauseous with fear. She finally spoke. "Why are you doing this?"

"I simply want to get to know you, dear. Sherlock never told me he had a lovely little sister I could play with, so many lovely options now. Mary, do take your husband to the bathroom and tend to his hand. His whimpering is putting my off my meal." She rose slowly to help John, wondering if Sherlock kept a gun in his room. James locked eyes on her as if reading her thoughts. "And do keep from doing anything stupid or my next little love poke will be somewhere far worse than in a hand." The room fell silent as they went into the bathroom. "Leave the door open, no hanky-panky in there." He turned his full focus on Ainsley again. "Now that there is an open seat, move a little closer to Daddy, I'm tired to having to shout down to you." He pat the empty seat and she moved slowly to comply.

"Good girl. Now, I am just gasping to know all about you, dear. Tell me about America, how did you end up all the way over there? Were you too naughty to stay with Mummy and Daddy and Mycy and you little La here?"

She shook silently with tears. He wouldn't relent, grabbing her hand roughly and pulling her closer to him. "ANSWER ME!" He noticed the scars on her arm as the sleeve inched up when he pulled. Molly gasped. "Oh my, my, what happened here?" He ran a finger over the spider webs.

"Don't TOUCH her!" Sherlock snapped, popping to his feet once again.

James moved with equal speed. Springing up and pulling Ainsley to him. His knife against her neck. "Well, well Sherlock, it's been absolutely lovely stopping by, but things are getting a little too tense for me, I think we'll be going, now." He inched back toward the door, pressing the blade tight to her throat. "Sit down and finish your dinner, no need to see us out." Sherlock began to stalk toward them, only stopping then the series of red dots appeared on his, and judging from Molly's sudden sob, her own, chests. "Don't worry, we'll be in touch. Bye."

Sherlock's fists balled at his sides, his breath coming fast and hard as he watched Moriarty leave with his sister. Once they were gone and he heard the downstairs door slam, the laser sights were gone and he flew from the room, down the stairs and out the door to see the black car well down the road in the distance. Molly was at his side as he fell to his knees. Things just got a lot worse.