Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and favourited this story! You're all champs! Extra special thanks to my reviewers, mslestat76, goddess1903, Kathmak, and guest penguim, I have to responded to you all by message, but a mention is always nice to show appreciation!

I've had to split the prep and date into two chapters so they're going up today together. If you want to see Molly's dress and shoes that Sherlock will be finding so distracting and pics + links to the restaurants booked come have a look at my post in Tumblr.. I'm sweet-sweet-escape

Chapter five

Picking out the glass slippers

The Valentine's Day date is fast approaching and all three couples - Sherlolly, Warstan, and Mythea need to get ready.. The three men are going all out to make their girls happy..

"Mary, we're going as friends! You've got the same problem as Stevie, wishful bloody thinking!" Molly obstinately ignored the voice in her head chirping happily about the texts, take away coffees and movie marathons over the last week.

"Molly, he's taking you to The Wolseley, you might want to be a just a tad dressed up sweetie."

Molly's eyes flicked to Stevie hoping that he would take pity and save her, he shrugged and raised a finger twirling it around in the universal gesture for spin, Molly made a face at him and then spun around twirling the pleated chiffon skirt out around her slim legs.

Molly stilled and looked at herself in the mirror appraisingly, biting the inside of her lip she swept her axe up and down attempting to see through Sherlock's eyes, she sighed, it was frilly pink chiffon for gods sake! But she had to concede, it was stunning, it was nothing like the black - not right for her personality - dress she'd worn to impress him at the Christmas Eve party all those years ago, it was sweet and innocent but surprisingly sexy too.

She pulled the tag out to have a look, and gasped, "We're only friends, I can't spend this kind of money on a dinner with a friend, it's silly, I'll make a fool of myself! He'll think I'm getting ideas and stop spending time with me!"

"Molly, you're going on a date with the man of your dreams," Molly sucked in a breath ready to retort. Stevie held his hand up and tilted his head warning her off, "Yes, he is the man of your dreams, whether it's a romantic date or not, and he's taking you to The Wolseley, so it's at least a little romantic," again Molly stood ready to refute his statement.

This time Mary handled Molly with an amused glance and an eyebrow raise, a clear invitation to open a dialogue should she choose to. Molly scrunched her face and closed her mouth again, resigned, there was no way she was going to give Mary carte blanche to discuss her relationship with Sherlock, she had a way of skewing things and making it appear as though there was something where there really wasn't.

Stevie smirked at Molly having been dealt with so easily and winked at Mary before continuing, "Romance aside," he stopped briefly to dart a glare Molly's way. "The Wolseley is one of the most expensive and exclusive restaurants in London, dressing in anything less than designer is not an option. Besides, Molly, you deserve to feel like a princess."

"Well, I guess a treat wouldn't go astray," Molly agreed thoughtfully, "But it's very pink. I don't want Sherlock to pick me apart."

Mary smiled at Molly reassuringly,"Molly, it may surprise you to learn this but I think one of things Sherlock most likes about you is your contrast to him, he likes that you're a girl. Well, he does now that he's finally noticed."

"It's. not. a. date!" Each word was enunciated carefully in frustration, Molly's eyes ricocheted back and forth between Stevie and Mary furiously.

"Mmm-hmm," Stevie nodded, " So you've said," he drawled, "Me thinks the lady doth protest too much!" Stevie chuckled, calling over his shoulder as he moved away, "I'm off to pick out the glass slippers!"

Mary laughed at Stevie's antics before returning her attention to her clueless friend, "Molly, Sherlock's taking you to one of the most expensive restaurants in London, why? Just think about that, putting aside that he's," she paused to gather her thoughts before continuing, "Himself." Can you honestly say if he was any other man doing all this you wouldn't be certain of his feelings?"

"Mary there's no point in putting aside the fact that he's Sherlock, I can't judge his behaviour by what others would do, he has his own rules of conduct, and he's the only one who understands his motives.

"Oh Molly, Sherlock's the last person to understand himself, especially when it comes to you." Mary was looking at her with pity in her eyes.

Molly was relieved to see Stevie come towards them waving a pair of nude low slung court shoes with an ankle strap, "I've found the perfect shoe, straps, low heel, closed in toes, Cinderella you will attend the ball!"

Molly gave him an exasperated look, "Stevie, the price?"

Stevie waved her concerns away, choosing instead to focus on all the reasons they were simply the perfect shoe, as Molly swiped her credit card thirty minutes later she cursed herself for a fool.

"Sherlock?"

"Why are you taking Molly to The Wolseley? Why not Angelo's?"

Sherlock's face gave nothing but irritation away as John watched him hoping to see a little emotion. "Why am I taking Molly to the Wolseley?"

Sherlock's mood appeared to be contagious, John was beginning to feel provoked himself. "Repeating the question back to me is not going to get you out of an answer Sherlock." John warned.

"Well then why don't you just ask the question you're actually thinking then, John?"

John sat glowering at Sherlock, Sherlock drew the bow across his Strad in an awful parody of music while feeding John's displeasure right back at him.

"No? Maybe I'll just answer it anyway, hmm? Clear the air? No John, it is not a date, no John, I am not perusing Molly Hooper, I am taking Molly out like you told me too, I'm taking her to The Wolseley because with the riffraff she tends to date she probably hasn't been on a proper date, ever, she deserves to have fun and feel good and forget this whole mess that she's only in due to her association with me."

"Well, just keep that in mind when you're out with her Sherlock, no deducing, do not humiliate her mate."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at John, "I know what I'm doing John, I've been spending time with her this past week and as I'm sure Mary will agree she is feeling much more like her old self." Sherlock's face was smug.

John angled his head away so Sherlock couldn't see his triumphant smile, This is too easy, like shooting fish in a barrel, we should have pushed these two together years ago..

Mycroft looked up from his desk hearing steps approaching, light, lengthy stride, Stevie, "Ah Stevie" he began pompously, "I trust the preparations have been attended to? Anthea remains unaware?"

"Blissfully so," Stevie returned. "You have reservations at Roux on Parliament Square, the town car will collect Anthea at 6.45pm, she has been told that she is necessary to turn a particular gentleman's head who is rather distracted by brunettes. She is being gracious but she's angry, she thinks you're pimping out your pregnant significant other, I also told her that you won't be there." Stevie winked at Mycroft.

Mycroft waved Stevie off but he wore a rare smile as he did so, all things being equal Mycroft was set to be a father, and now if he was lucky – luckier than he had any right to expect – a husband. As yet they had not disclosed their relationship beyond his own family, - Amy herself did not have any family, agents often did not, the lifestyle tended to attract those with little to lose.

He wondered what Amy was feeling now about her job, she'd done no undercover work since finding about the pregnancy but neither had she expressed a desire to cease working entirely. He was loathe to raise the topic with her lest she would misunderstand and believe him to be pushing her in a certain direction.

Amy looked at herself critically in the mirror, since becoming pregnant she'd been finding the 'Anthea' mask more and more difficult to slip into, the problem was not inability, she could remain in her Anthea role in her sleep, if government agents could win awards for aliases she'd be up for an Oscar.

Her body and her mind just wanted to claim themselves back, she didn't want to pretend and flirt and use her body as a tool, her body had become sacred, she was creating life now, playing Anthea felt like a betrayal.

Being in love with Mycroft was still a surprise, when she'd met the Ice Man she'd thought him extremely good at his job, but also smug, pompous and cold.

She started to see his heart when Moriarty's obsession with Sherlock spiralled out of control and he feared for his brother's life. The depth of his love kindled a spark of love in her, she recognised his Ice Man persona for what it was, a distraction, serving the same purpose as the beautiful lady a magician uses for misdirection, protecting his all too human heart.

She sighed and smoothed down her form fitting black dress, this would be the last time Anthea would distract her companion for the evening by sending his blood flow away from his brain, she laughed, it would be the last time she would look less than pregnant for the foreseeable future.

Yes, she still looked the part, her pregnancy was not visible to the naked eye as of yet, she was possibly a little bustier but she didn't imagine that would pose much of a problem. She nodded at her reflection took a deep breath and went to grab her clutch, she would do this for Mycroft and then they had to talk.

Not too far away Molly was also preparing to spend time with a confusing Holmes brother, unlike Anthea who still as yet had no idea she was about to spend Valentine's Day out with Mycroft. Molly did know that her plans involved Sherlock but if anything that knowledge made her even more confused, this was a non-romantic date in the fanciest restaurant she'd ever been on Valentine's Day with the man of her dreams who had spent the last week wooing her.

There was no more accurate a description for his behaviour, his eyes lingered on her when he thought she wasn't paying attention, he'd complimented her new clothes on more than one occasion, he bought coffees, watched movies, he'd even massaged her feet! She had spent the whole week reeling in confusion.

She had a running commentary in her head, the two voices competing and disagreeing as though barracking for opposing teams. One commentator convinced he was in love with her and the other – the voice of reason – explaining away all his behaviour with his lack of understanding of social mores.

She slipped on the silk lingerie set Stevie had insisted she buy to go under the dress, when she had protested that there was no need because it wasn't a real date he'd smirked at her. Mary had told her that it didn't matter if no one saw it, she would know it was there and it would give her confidence, which she would sorely need in a place like The Wolseley.

She shimmied into her dress and wrestled with the zip, face scrunched in concentration, she then fastened the straps on the shoes and smoothed her hands over her silken legs chewing on her lip.

Her hair was down framing her face in soft waves, make up was next, soft neutral colours with a sheer gloss, she simply looked like herself but to the power of gorgeous. She had to hand it to Stevie and Mary, she felt beautiful.

Mycroft opened the safe and picked up the little velvet box within, it contained his great grandmother's, betrothal ring, it consisted of three large diamonds, the middle one was the largest, the two diamonds bracketing it were each larger than the average stone adorning traditional rings.

He and Mummy had decided that Grandmother's ring would one day adorn Molly's finger because Sherlock had been her favourite.

Mycroft hadn't minded, he'd doted on Sherlock too, he was a beautiful little boy, so inquisitive and sweet. Mycroft had worried about his fragile little heart, when Redbeard had died he'd been broken.

Mycroft decided he needed to teach him how to seal up his heart. Sherlock was so different, so unusual and raw in his ability to feel, he was older, he knew the ways of the world, they would chew up his sweet little heart and spit him out.

So he showed him how to create a mind palace and from there how to lock in his heart away in it. Sherlock had been relieved to learn, he never wanted to hurt like that again. It had been his saving grace for a long time, allowed him to endure university and the barbs his social unease had caused. It had been far from a perfect solution, he'd still hurt badly enough for drugs to be appealing, but Mycroft still believed it had helped.

The problem now, was that it was time to let himself feel again, he'd met a woman who could hold his heart and be trusted to do so but he was terrified.

Mycroft had no idea how to help him, it had taken him years to allow Amy into his heart, Sherlock's fall had make him vulnerable enough to realise that he needed

Sherlock stood in the shower counselling himself, This is not a date, you will behave like a gentleman, you will not let your baser desires for Molly cause you to make a foolish mistake, she's your friend, that's it, you'll only complicate everything, she deserves better than a high functioning sociopath, however much she might think she doesn't want better.

Drying off as he left the bathroom he turned straight into his bedroom and threw his towel on the bed, right, hair first, the curse of the curly haired man was that the casual tousled look took quite a bit of time, product, and effort, without a fuss his hair would frizz in all directions.

He selected his aubergine shirt, resolutely ignoring the internal voice jeering at him about his choice of shirt colour.

He assessed his battle plan for the evening, he would make small talk about Molly's old autopsies, during the car ride and when they were first seated, Safe subject, no hurt feelings or romantic overtones there. Once their food arrived he would steer the topic towards anecdotes about some of his more amusing cases that Molly hadn't yet heard him discuss, then during dessert he would encourage Molly to talk about her childhood whilst being careful to keep it light.

He looked in the mirror to be certain that his appearance was pleasing, once again came that pesky voice asking why he needed to look his best to spend time with a friend, after all, he didn't dress well to spend time with John, in fact previously he had not bothered to dress nicely for Molly, so why now the little internal twit wanted to know.

He assured himself that his concern lay solely with the fact he was about to go to an extremely exclusive restaurant and furthermore his appearance was always of importance to him. He was not getting notions about his friend, and even if he was unable to completely remain detached from his growing feelings for her he certainly had no intention of acting on them.

Mary sat at the kitchen table nursing a cup of peppermint tea, John was due back any minute and he claimed to have the perfect night planned for a Valentine's Day with a pregnant, aching, grumpy wife. She reserved the right to disagree on what the perfect night would be, after all what kind of perfect Valentine's Day date resulted in no sex for a happily married couple? This placenta praevia had a lot to answer for.

Right, time to get dressed, he'd been so adorably eager and proud of himself when he told her about his big plans for Valentine's Day night. Forcing herself to brave the stairs she headed to the bedroom, she felt she owed to him to at least make an effort, she wasn't sure what he was up to but he was clearly going to some trouble.

Her choices were rather limited these days, she chose a wrap dress that did the seemingly impossible for a pregnant woman, offered comfort and style and fit the whole through the pregnancy, seeming to change shape with the wearer as the pregnancy progressed.

Light make up was sufficient, one bonus about being a walking human incubator was that she had the coveted pregnancy glow, thank god for it too because along with the glow she had the not so welcome chipmunk face. She decided she'd forgo perfume, it didn't seem to sit well with her lately, the smell seemed wrong somehow. One last look in the mirror told her she'd do fine.

John checked his list again, making sure that all his bases were covered, scentless massage oil -check, sparkling grape juice -check, heart shaped Godiva chocolates -check, scentless candles -check, romantic comedy -check, now the final item on his list was stop by Angelo's to pick up the lasagna and garlic bread.

With a pregnant wife currently feeling like an uncomfortable whale he needed to create a magical evening in their own home. He have would loved to plan a night with Mary out on the town to show her off but she was exhausted and they couldn't be too careful with the placenta praevia. So his next best idea had been to spoil her at home, dinner and a movie and a not completely chaste massage to follow, the current moratorium did not extend to all things best done without clothing after all..