Thank you to everyone who has followed and favourited my story or me! Thank you to anyone who camE and followed me on Tumblr! You're all too lovely. Special thanks go to my reviewers, rubyred753, Kathmark, goddess1903, dalekandtheTARDISat221B, and the guests too..

Kathmak said: I am a bit surprised that no one besides Sherlock is suspicious of this Stevie character. Shame on Mycroft for not checking him out properly. -That's an excerpt of her review, the part I thought needed to be addressed, for anyone who was wondering but maybe felt shy to ask..

Don't be too angry with angry with Mycroft, Stevie has been in place since before any of this started. Jim went to Barts, Stevie went to Mycroft, also, Sebastian/Stevie is also a genius, he and Moriarty put together the Richard Brook persona that took years to undo and that was with the prior knowledge that he wasn't real. I hope that helps to explain it..

Chapter four

We're friends aren't we?

"Stevie, I'm not sure, I've always had my hair long." Molly grasped a strand and twirled the ends around her fingers lovingly, enjoying the silky slide against her skin.

"Molly, you have beautiful hair, but you need a change, your hair is lovely, but it's not age appropriate and doesn't say professional woman. You need to project confidence, you've got to stop allowing yourself to be so forgettable. I am telling you, he's in love but he's a big baby and he won't jump, you have to give him a shove." Stevie stood hands on his hips scanning Molly and tut-tutting to himself about her many fashion faux pas.

"What if you're wrong? I'm going to make a fool of myself, I haven't even seen him in a week, well.. I –" Molly trailed off shifting from foot to foot awkwardly.

Stevie's eyes narrowed, cocking his head, he sucked his cheeks and clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "Spill, Molly," he ordered.

"Well, he just…he sent a text." Molly, discovering a sudden interest in her fingernails, inspected them refusing to meet his eyes.

"What did he text you?" Stevie's eyes roamed Molly's face, the fact that she was hiding something was plain.

"Nothing really Stevie, just to be safe and not to accept any dates until we know what's going on..who's responsible." Spotting the smile spreading wider on Stevie's face, she rushed to add, "See, this is why I didn't want to tell you, I knew you'd make a big thing of it and it's not. He doesn't mean anything by it, he told me the same thing years ago after...well after Jim."

Molly's cheeks were flushed, the whole Moriarty sham would always remain a source of humiliation, she continued examining her nails, causing her to miss the storm that raged across Stevie's face.

Stevie clenched his fists and bit out "Molly, I hate to think of you being hurt, you do have to be more careful."

Despite being completely and utterly insane, Stevie - unlike Sherlock – did not attempt to deny emotion. Aware of the absolute impossibility of completely disguising his reactions, he didn't try to. Instead he opted to show just how extremely visceral his reaction to the Jim/Molly situation was, and in doing so, ironically helped to keep himself above suspicion.

"Oh Stevie, don't even worry about me," Molly snorted, "I don't think that Moriarty even considered me worth remembering, let alone worth staging a plan to deal with me, I'm nobody, just a silly girl with a crush that he exploited to get closer to Sherlock," she sighed, "I've never had to try to be forgettable Stevie."

"Molly, you have no idea how far from true that is, you're in his heart, and we're just going to make him acknowledge that, he doesn't need to fall in love, he is in love, he just needs to stop denying that he is, and that's where I come in." Stevie winked at Molly.

"Stevie, you can dress me up all you want, I'm never going to be appealing to him in that way, I've seen his head turned only once and she was nothing like me. She was sophisticated, beautiful and clever and he was fascinated by her, I never stood a chance."

Molly's shoulders slumped, defeated, "Stevie, I don't want to do this, he'll never look at me the way he looked at her. Did I ever tell you that he asked me to help him x-Ray her phone just days after deducing that I had feelings for him, he asked me for help with his obsession with her. Do you realise how little he must care about me to have done that?" Tears were rolling down Molly's cheeks when she finished talking.

She stalked to the sofa woodenly on unsteady legs, "I can't Stevie, I won't put myself out there, I've done it too many times, he doesn't want me." Unshed tears glistened in her lashes catching the light and refracting it.

Stevie sat down next to Molly and took her hands, "Molly, you don't know the truth of that situation. You're talking about Irene Adler, she was blackmailing the Royal family, Sherlock needed to get into her phone to gain access to the compromising footage."

Molly looked at Stevie frowning, "I know who she was Stevie, I was there when Sherlock identified her and I do have access to google. How do you know anything about her?"

"Mycroft had planned to relieve Sherlock of the phone and have me try to access the memory, so he had me install surveillance in your lab, he predicted – correctly - that he would go to you. Mycroft calls Barts – and by extension, you – Sherlock's home away from home. I honestly don't know whether or not he developed feelings for her later when she turned out to be a little less than dead but I very much doubt it, she used him to help Moriarty."

"She wasn't dead? But he identified her! He identified her by her naked body, so don't tell me nothing happened Stevie, I may be a blind fool but I'm not stupid! He probably spent time with her while he was dead."

Molly felt a wave of nausea rush up from her already painfully clenched stomach, she grabbed blindly at the tissue box on the coffee table and swiped at her eyes angrily, embarrassed to be melting down over Sherlock again. "I need to put this behind me Stevie, he isn't interested, he never will be, he barely counts me as a friend, I'm useful upon occasion, that's it. It's only his guilt that gives him the appearance of caring, he doesn't want to have me on his conscience should something happen to me, and I'm such a ninny he thinks I can't look after myself." Molly sat twisting the tissue around in her hands.

"Molly she's dead, she was killed in Karachi. John told Sherlock she was placed in witness protection in America, Mycroft thought it best. Sherlock had no plans to ever see her again." Which is handy, because she is in America...in the desert in Vegas..

"Stevie, I don't want to make a plan to 'get' him," Molly's voice was low and stretched thin, all of this was taking its toll.

"Okay, no plan," Stevie let go of Molly's hands and threw his own up in mock surrender, "Just a little update of your look to feel good then."

"Stevie," Molly admonished, sounding wary.

"Molly, I'm serious, all your clothes were ruined, so you have to buy new things, if you want to move on from him okay, we won't do it for him, we'll do it for you, you deserve to feel good, right?" Stevie smiled encouragingly waiting for the yes he knew would come in time.

Molly was resigned, "Alright, we'll go shopping, but no plans, no tricks, Stevie, I'm too tired to play games."

Stevie grinned, "Scouts honour." This is going to be even better, if I sex her up and she appears uninterested it will make him fall that much harder, human nature.

"Sherlock, at least think it over, it wouldn't be a real date, you'd just be going as friends, Mary and I both agree that it's important that we not only keep Molly safe, but that we keep her spirits up. Valentine's Day is a big deal to Molly, only she's single, because you've forbidden her from dating," he shot a frown in Sherlock's direction to let him know what he thought of that. "She needs something to look forward to Sherlock, she's not her usual self, she's not even upset, she's just static."

John fiddled with his cup of tea waiting for Sherlock to digest this information, he sighed looking pained as he continued, "Stevie and Mary took her shopping to get new clothes and Mary said she was just like a rag doll." John sat with his head tilted forward on a slight angle, eyes imploring, lips pressed together.

Sherlock looked at John's expression, - a pathetic attempt at manipulation – rolled his eyes, scrunched his face in frustration and bit out, "Fine John, I will ask Molly out for Valentine's Day as a friend, and when it all goes wrong, I'll be blaming you and Mary."

John smiled sadly, "You won't regret it when you see her Sherlock," John was pensive, "Molly's always been so optimistic, I didn't think anything could dull that light, she wasn't even like this when she broke it off with Tom... We're really worried Sherlock".

Sherlock looked away guiltily, Molly's voice echoed in his head, You broke my heart Sherlock. His outward response was caustic, "Well, I hardly think that my taking her on a fake date will be the fix-all you seem to believe it will be John, of course she's not herself, a mad man has targeted her, she can't work, her place got trashed, I should hardly expect her to be singing in the rain John."

John shook his head, well aware that his guilt was causing him to lash out, "Just go and see her Sherlock, after everything she's done for you, you owe her that at least."

Sherlock's face was slack with shock, "You think I'm not going to see her because I can't be bothered? You really think I'm so cold? I'm trying to protect her John!"

"Sherlock, for a bloody genius, you can be incredibly thick. You think you're protecting her by staying away? She thinks you don't care about her! She told Mary she's not going to bother you anymore, she's going to leave you alone and stop bugging you, she thinks she's a nuisance. So, yeah, well done on protecting her mate, well done."

John stood up and slipped his jacket on, pausing in the door he delivered his parting shot, "Go and see her Sherlock, she needs you." One last hard look and he was gone..

John pulled the door shut behind him pulling out his phone as he did so, he waited till he got into the street before placing his call, "Mary, he agreed, tough sell but he took the bait in the end, Molly ready?"

Molly was playing Monopoly with the afternoon shift guard when the intercom buzzed. Panic flared briefly in her chest before she tamped it down reminding herself that whoever was here had to be on the list to get past the door detail. "Alison?" Molly's voice was hesitant, it was one thing to feel unimportant, it was another to be reckless.

Alison patted Molly's knee and gave her a reassuring smile, "Rupert and Benjamin are down there Molly, if they buzzed the door once it means it's okay, remember? I'll go check, you just sit tight okay?" She checked her phone, it was Sherlock Holmes. Alison rolled her eyes. She went to double check the identity on the monitor, yup, tall, dark and selfish. She pulled open the door and gave him a flat stare. She didn't know Molly very well but from what she did know she was patient, kind, loving, and giving and this idiot played with her like a yoyo.

Sherlock swept his gaze form head to toe in a clinical manner, immediately deducing all of that and more in her countenance, "You can spare me your lectures, where is she?"

"I'll ask her if she wants to talk to you." Alison stated, "Wait here.".

"No thanks."he responded cheerily, ignoring her he headed in the direction of the bedroom. Fearing danger Molly would retreat to where she felt the safest, in this unfamiliar territory that would be her bedroom.

Sherlock knocked softly on the door calling out "Molly? It's me, can I come in?"

"Door's open," Molly called softly.

Sherlock pushed the door open and stepped just inside bracing himself in expectation for Molly to rush at him for a hug, he'd decided he would indulge her in a brief hug before being sensible and cutting it short, he was looking forward to it.

His gaze adjusted to the dark and centred on Molly, she hadn't so much as twitched from what he could see, - though admittedly he couldn't see much, the blinds had been drawn, casting a murky gloom - she was sitting on the bed with her legs crossed, dressed - undressed - in cream lace edged satin shortie pyjamas, adorned with tiny pink rosebuds scattered in bunches throughout.

His mouth ran dry, he stood rooted to the spot, blinking awkwardly, his brain refused to form words to send to his mouth, he shifted uncomfortably. His biggest hurdle was the fact that his eyes – against his will – kept returning to admire the way her pyjamas framed her petite body to such advantage.

Molly sat on top of the duvet picking at imaginary specks of lint. She focused on her self appointed task declining to look up, - if she had looked at him she would have been shocked to see him struggling with the sight of her bare legs in her new (Stevie approved) pyjama set - "Sherlock," his name a sigh, "You don't have to check on me, for John, okay?"

"Molly, I wasn't.." He began.

Molly put up her hand, "John didn't talk to you?" Her expression dared him to lie, she watched his eyes sliding off her face, not suspecting for a moment he was struggling to look at her because his eyes wished to roam, she assumed he was avoiding eye contact because he felt guilt for attempting to manipulate her.

"Ye-es, he did, but I haven't been staying away for the reasons you think... Molly if you'll just…"

"Sherlock, what do you want? You're here to soothe your conscience? Fine, I'm alive, you've done your duty."

Sherlock gulped, How the hell did I make such a mess? Does she still love me? Shouldn't I be happy? Isn't this what I wanted? Never mind that, just fix it! Compliment her! She likes compliments.

"Your hair, you've changed it? It suits you, it's…really...pretty?."

"Yeah, Stevie's idea, he thought it would cheer me up," she said sounding anything but cheery..

"Molly?" His voice was hesitant, but determined, "Ah, do you have plans for...Valentine's Day?" He attempted a smile but only succeeded in looking ill.

Molly's head snapped up, and she looked at him like he'd grown another head. "Valentine's Day? Sherlock what's this about?"

"Well, we...ah, haven't spent any time together?" Stupid, stupid, stupid, Sherlock felt completely out of his league, judging from the look on Molly's face, she agreed.

Sherlock's stomach plummeted when he realised that she was waiting for him to leave, panicking, he cleared his throat, to try again, one last try, using the only possible chance he had left, honesty, "Molly, I don't want to lose you, aren't we friends?"

Friends? He's going to play the friends card? Molly pinned him in place with her steel gaze, "I thought we were Sherlock, but you've been avoiding me, again. I'm stuck here, I can't work, my flat got trashed, Toby keeps hiding under the couch and you've sent me one message, one! Telling me not to date! Cause I'm such a soft target and so undesirable that the only reason anyone would ever date me is to get to you?" Molly deflated like a spent balloon and slumped down again to resume her lint picking.

"No! No, that's not what I meant at all, you're very," Sherlock paused and cleared his throat, tilting his head forward to force out the final word. "Desirable." Pink roses bloomed on his cheeks, he closed his eyes briefly and continued. "I'm simply concerned, - for you." He finished awkwardly.

Molly stared at him, studying his skittish behaviour, - ears tipped with pink, eyes darting to and fro, looking everywhere but at her own, she'd always been able to read him, and right now she was reading…Desire? Sherlock thinks I'm desirable? What the hell? Since when?

Sherlock braved a look at Molly, darting his eyes without turning his head, and saw that his confession had been well worth the discomfort, she looked ready to forgive him his absence. "So…you're unable to work." Scintillating conversation Sherlock, well done.

Molly nodded looking unhappy, "Mycroft said unfortunately due to all the people coming and going and all the equipment it would be too difficult."

"Mycroft? Told you that, himself? In person?" Sherlock's voice was incredulous.

"It's for the best, I wouldn't want to put anyone in unnecessary danger just so I don't have to feel bored."

"I'm sorry Molly," he rumbled, "Please let me try to make this up to you?" Sherlock's hand, moved over hers, his fingers splayed, he rested his hand on hers lightly, shutting his eyes and exhaling deeply, then his sense returned and he jerked away as though he'd been burnt.

Molly watched him screwing his hand up into a ball, staring at it as though he wasn't certain what it might do next. What was that? Confused Molly asked "What have you got in mind Sherlock? Do you need help with a case? With the broadcast?"

Sherlocks focus was still on his hand, his eyes were narrowed as if trying to deduce it's motives, his head turned toward Molly though his eyes lingered till the last moment on his traitorous hand. "I was asking about Valentine's Day? I would like to take you to a restaurant, friends go to restaurants don't they?"

"Well, of course they do Sherlock, but not on Valentine's Day, that's a romantic night."

"Well, we could make an exception couldn't we? Since you're unable to date" Sherlock imbued the word with as much disgust as humanly possible, "You won't have to miss out, and as a bonus we can also spend some time together, I trust you don't find my company completely intolerable?" His eye twitched belying his confident tone..

Molly took in his nervous demeanour and confusion and sighed, "Okay Sherlock, that would be lovely, - thank you. Just let me know what time and how I should dress."

Sherlock expelled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, his face relaxed into a genuine smile which startled Molly, she watched him thoughtfully, Maybe Stevie isn't crazy? Oh god, here we go again, every time I think I can get over him I get pulled back in.

Sherlock was sifting through his thoughts, he wanted to 'chat,' without entering his mind palace, he'd prefer it appear to be a natural discourse and a bout of near preternaturally still silence would not help that cause. The results, from the blood! Talk to her about science!

"So they got the results back from the blood, it was pigs blood, so that's…good…"

Molly raised her eyebrows at him, "It is?"

"Well, its science." Sherlock smiled at Molly proudly.

Molly smiled at him broadly, momentarily happy, Sherlock's smile widened in response, he congratulated himself internally, John couldn't have done better himself, I know how to keep my girl happy.

Molly sat basking in the glow of Sherlock's happiness at having successfully cheered her up, the fact that Sherlock had made – awkward, stilted, odd, - idle conversation just to make her happy gave her hope that they really could be proper friends. Now if my hormones could get on board with us just being friends and stop starting a brush fire whenever he so much as glances at me, this could work.

On Sherlock's part he was so caught up in his pride at being the only one capable of making Molly happy in this difficult time that it wasn't until he was back at Baker Street many hours later sorting memories from their evening together that he realised he had referred to Molly as his girl.