Sherlock still had the red lollipop in his mouth as they entered the club, his arm again around her waist to portray their role as a young couple out for the evening. The music blasted at such a volume that Molly had to lean in close to his ear in order to be heard.
"Seriously, though? We just got into the most popular night club by saying 'M sent me?' Your brother's 'code name' is 'M?' At first I was kidding about the James Bond stuff, but now it's just sad," said Molly as they entered the main room and began scanning the crowd.
"I'll agree that Mycroft is a sad individual," said Sherlock, absent-mindedly crunching down on the candy while his eyes swept back and forth across the room. "Well, I don't see our rat yet, so we may as well try to blend in. Drink?"
Molly had to do a double-take to realize that he was offering to get her a drink before raising an eyebrow in question, "Should we really be drinking while out on our 'secret mission?'"
Sherlock narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly as he looked at her face. "Tom Collins. You like the sweeter drinks but don't want to come off as too much of a girly-girl at the bar. Unless you're with a group of girls, in which case you order a Cosmo."
Molly tried to keep her face impassive, but failed when the corners of her mouth refused to stay down. "Lucky guess."
Sherlock smiled and started to turn towards the bar. "I don't guess. Go save us a table."
Molly turned to look behind her and managed to find a small table conveniently nestled in a corner without any occupants. She turned to catch sight of Sherlock ordering at the bar and slid into the booth-style seat, taking the time to properly scan her surroundings.
The table offered a perfect view of the entire room: the bar off to her right against the wall and a massive dance floor to the left, headed by a raised platform holding all of the DJ equipment. It was still early in the evening, so no DJ yet, only pre-programmed playlists streaming through the speakers. The dance floor was still relatively empty, only a few couples and one seemingly trashed bachelorette party dancing to the electronic beat.
Sherlock approached the table and sat their drinks down. Molly was surprised to see that he had ordered a regular pint. "Surprised you didn't insist on 100-year-old brandy or something of the sort," she said as she took a sip of her drink. Her surprise continued when rather than sitting across from her he slid into the booth right next to her, edging up close before picking up his beer and taking a good-sized gulp.
"Now, why would I order some pansy-ass garbage like that?" he asked, again donning the American accent with a sideways smile at Molly. She couldn't help the giggle that escaped at his uncharacteristic outburst.
"Where did you pick that up?" she asked, taking another sip as she tried to suppress her laughter.
"My hospital room television was stuck on MTV and John refused to hand me the remote as punishment for not telling him about Mary," Sherlock took another swig of his drink and allowed himself a small chuckle.
"How is that by the way?"
"What? John and Mary? The gunshot wound? Or MTV?"
"Oh, what the hell," said Molly, leaning back against the seat, "all of them."
Sherlock smiled and turned to continue scanning the room as he spoke. "John and Mary are better now. No doubt the impending terror of a new infant has them feeling closer than ever. My gunshot wound is almost completely healed with the exception of a rather nasty scar on my chest and MTV is absolute rubbish. I could actually feel my brain cells committing suicide as I watched."
Molly smiled again, starting to feel the warmth of her drink spread to her limbs. "I didn't notice."
"Notice what?" Sherlock said, craning his neck to get a better look at the bar.
"A rather nasty scar on your chest. I didn't even notice it. I think you look lovely." It was like her mouth moved faster than her brain. Why in the world did you say that? What in the world is in this drink?
"Oh," he said, turning back to look at Molly, his eyes flicking back and forth from her face to the table, "thank you." His mouth played out the th- sound, as he was equally embarrassed by the admission as Molly.
"I just meant that…you're very fit…and a scar doesn't change the-"
"Molly, look-at the bar," Sherlock's eyes had shot back up and he now indicated with his head the direction of the bar. Leaning against it was the man in the pictures Mycroft had shown them hours before.
"It's Pike. What do we do now?" Molly put her drink to the side and watched the man at the bar casually lean back and search the crowd conspicuously.
"We wait and see what he does. Who he talks to." Sherlock picked up his drink and sipped, never taking his eyes off the man.
"Well, that seems kind of inefficient. Shouldn't one of us go talk to him or something?"
"There's always a chance I would be recognized. Best to do our reconnaissance from afar."
"What about me? No one would recognize me," Molly asked, also keeping her eyes firmly planted on the nervous-looking man at the bar.
"Oh, I'm sure that would go down well- 'Excuse me, Sir, just wondering if you could give us some information on your secret plans? That would be just terrific! Off we pop!'" Sherlock raised his voice to a mocking pitch, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at Molly.
Turning to look at him in a huff, Molly felt an irritated blush rise to her cheeks. That was then. I'm different now.
"Care to make a wager?" She asked, now standing up and looking down at Sherlock. He turned to look at her, making sure to keep Pike in his peripheral line of sight.
"Molly, what are you talking about?"
"I bet you I can get information out of him in five minutes or less, without him getting suspicious,"
Sherlock stared at her for a full three seconds before bursting into full-out laughter.
"You? Mousy Molly Hooper? Right. You're going to get information about a secret criminal network?" He continued laughing as he picked up his beverage and looked back to the man at the bar.
"If you win, you get full access to the morgue for a month. Carte blanche."
He turned again, clearly intrigued. "And if you actually succeed, as unlikely as it is?"
Kiss me. Hold me. Take me on a date. Introduce me to your parents. Dance with me. Hold my hand. Marry me for god's sake. "You have to say something nice. About me."
Sherlock scrunched up his face and snorted. "You would give me a blank check in the morgue and all you're fishing for is a compliment?"
"Not just a compliment. Something genuine. Besides, what are you worried about? It'll never happen, right?" Molly picked up her drink, removed the tiny straw, and downed it in one gulp before slamming it down on the table. "Start the timer."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sherlock was vaguely aware of other things happening in the club around him, but at the moment he saw nothing but Molly Hooper, making her way toward the bar.
You have to say something nice. About me.
You're amazing. Wonderful. Splendid. I love-
He was jerked out of his reverie at the sight of her sliding down the bar next to Pike. He obviously couldn't hear them from this far away, but he could deduce that she was introducing herself. Pike gave her a quick glance up and down when she turned to the bar to order herself another drink and Sherlock felt a wave of anger as he caught Pike looking at her backside for a moment longer than the rest of her. Molly turned back around and Pike smiled as Molly began animatedly talking to him. Molly's body language was decidedly not Molly as she leaned into the unfamiliar man and flirted shamelessly, touching his arms and bending slightly to accentuate her cleavage. Sherlock's jaw nearly dropped when inside of two minutes Pike fished a piece of paper out of his coat and handed it to Molly. She ducked her head over the side of the bar and extracted a pen, writing something on the slip of paper and handing it back. Finally, she picked up her drink and started to walk away, turning to give Pike a silly little waggle of her fingers before making eye contact with Sherlock and indicating that he should follow her.
Following her past the dance floor and into a dimly lit hallway lined with couples doing a number of things that should have been private, Sherlock lost sight of Molly and began searching the dark alcoves. He heard a sharp psst and found her leaning into an unoccupied stretch of wall.
"London EC3 4AB, Tuesday, Midnight." She said quickly.
Sherlock looked puzzled, prompting her to explain. "The paper I wrote my number on-it had that address and time on it. If he was coming here to drop off the information to potential members then that paper probably pertains to his mission. The paper said 'London EC3 4AB, Tuesday, Midnight.'"
"You gave him your number?" Sherlock asked, slightly taken aback. Molly rolled her eyes.
"I gave him Tom's number. Focus, Sherlock."
"Right, sorry," Sherlock closed his eyes and instantly began sifting through information. What he came up with made no sense.
"That doesn't make any sense. That address is-"
"Uh-oh," said Molly, her eyes toward the door leading back into the main room. Following her gaze, Sherlock saw Pike making his way toward the doorway. Turning to see what was behind them and finding the sign for the toilets, Sherlock saw that they were trapped. To escape meant directly crossing paths with Pike, but staying meant he would have to walk right past them. There was no guarantee he would be recognized, but he still didn't want to leave it to chance.
"He can't see you!" Molly said, starting to panic. Her head swiveled in every direction trying to think of a way out. The only thing she could see were the couples lining the walls making out like they were in the privacy of their own homes. She looked back to Sherlock and saw that he wore a similar expression, trying to think of a way to go unnoticed. An idea suddenly popped into Molly's head, but she quickly threw it out considering its utter craziness. Crazy is about all you have going for you right now. She made a decision and took a deep breath.
"Sherlock?" He turned and looked at her, his eyes wide. "Just go with what I'm about to do, ok?"
Before the confused expression really had a chance to settle on his face, Molly grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him as hard as she could toward the wall. He reached out and stopped himself by placing his hands on the wall on either side of Molly's head in a sort of standing push-up position.
"Molly, what are you-"
His sentence was stopped by Molly pulling his shirt farther and bringing his face to hers, locking him into a fierce kiss. His entire body tensed and his eyes widened almost comically. Molly narrowed her own eyes in a way that she hoped said have you got a better plan? and was shocked when she saw Sherlock close his eyes and relax. Her shock lasted only a moment when she saw Pike entering the hallway. Here goes she thought, bringing her hands up to twist into Sherlock's hair and beginning to kiss him in earnest, parting her lips and using her tongue to explore his mouth. She closed her eyes and tried to blend in with the other couples in the hallway, knowing that the more intense it appeared the less likely Pike was to look. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that Sherlock was kissing her back, with a kind of unpracticed ferocity. This is just acting, right?
As soon as she saw Pike disappear into the loo, she broke away from Sherlock with a rather wet-sounding smack of lips. She ducked under one of his arms that was against the wall and stepped behind him, looking back and forth down the hallway to ensure that the way was clear.
"Ok, he's gone, let's-Sherlock?"
Sherlock was still standing with his arms braced against the wall, his eyes closed and mouth slightly open. His eyes opened slowly and he gave his head a brief shake.
"Come on-let's get out of here before he comes back out." Molly started to leave but turned to see that Sherlock still hadn't moved from his position against the wall.
"Are you all right?"
"Yeah. Yes. I'm…fine. Just…give me a second," Sherlock huffed, sounding somewhat winded and raspy. Molly, puzzled by his behavior, took another step forward before turning back and noticing Sherlock lower one hand and make a slight adjustment to the front of his jeans.
No…freaking…way.
Finally, he stood up straight and made his way down the hallway to meet Molly, stopping only long enough to wrap an arm around her waist and lead her quickly out the front door of the club. As soon as they were out of earshot of the queue outside, they chanced a look at each other and immediately burst into uncontrollable laughter that continued all the way to Baker Street.
"All right, you earned your compliment from me, Molly Hooper. That was the most utterly ridiculous plan of escape I have ever seen executed."
"How is that a compliment?" she laughed, following him up the stairs to 221b.
"Because it was a bloody brilliant ridiculous plan," he said, reaching into his pockets to retrieve his keys, only to drop them on the stoop. Molly bent over at the same time he did to pick them up. Both looking up at the same time, their faces directly next to each other, Molly could have sword she saw his eyes dart down once to glance at her lips before the shrill ring of his mobile shocked him into standing.
Without bothering to look at the screen, he answered by pressing the button for speakerphone.
"Mycroft."
"Hello, brother dear-I see that your date went well."
Molly instinctively turned and located a nearby CCTV camera and gave it a little wave.
"Good evening again, Miss Hooper."
"We have information, Mycroft. They are going to meet at-"
"The Tower of London, I heard," he said. Molly's eyes went wide with anger at the thought that they had somehow been wiretapped without her knowledge before she noticed the same expression on Sherlock's face. If they had been bugged, he obviously hadn't known about it.
"If you already knew, why bother calling?" Sherlock asked, irritated at the interruption.
"I just thought you would like to make your way to hospital."
"Why ever would we do that?" Molly did not fail to notice the use of the word we.
"Oh, I just thought you may want to meet Abigail Jane Watson, who was born at 10:52 this evening, is all." The line clicked off.
Molly and Sherlock raised their heads and shared matching grins before Sherlock rushed back down to the pavement to hail a taxi.