'Hello Molly' he said without looking up, as she lurked uncertainly in the doorway to his room.

'How are you?' she asked, walking in and hesitating only slightly before reaching across to kiss him on the cheek.

'We're doing kissing now?' He sounded curious rather than offended.

'Well you did almost die. I think that justifies a kiss on the cheek doesn't it? Besides, I feel the need to compensate for all of those slaps.'

'Technically I did die.'

'Only for two minutes, that doesn't count.'

He looked at her and smiled. 'Why are you here, Molly?'

'I brought you these,' she said, placing a large bag of Malteasers on his bedside table. 'Since you're not going to be able to nick mine for a while.'

'I was just thinking of your waistline' he said, resting his head back on the pillows. He looked tired, Molly noticed. He looked as if he was in pain.

'You can turn that thing up, you know,' she said, waving a finger at his PCA.

'Bad for thinking,' he replied automatically.

'What do you have to think about?' she asked. 'You got shot, Sherlock, you nearly died. Isn't that enough? Isn't that reason enough to let this go?'

'Fortunately, I wasn't shot in the head, Molly. I can still work.'

'I brought you his, too,' she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a Sherbert Fountain.

'They're not the same as they used to be,' he said conversationally. 'The paper cases added something to it, but then I suppose having a piece of liquorice sticking out the top uncovered was never going to be allowed for long. Too many people getting too worried about innocuous bacteria.'

'Stop avoiding the point.'

'Did you tell John exactly what was in the packets?'

'You know that I did.'

You couldn't have -'

'Lied for you? Again? No, Sherlock, I couldn't.'

'You did it before, Molly. You lied for me for two whole years. Why is this different?'

'Because that was to protect John. This isn't.'

'It is necessary.'

'Bollocks!' Molly snapped.

Sherlock looked mildly surprised at this outburst.

'You need to tell John what's going on.'

'Why?'

'So that he can help.'

'Nope,' Sherlock shook his head, then winced as the action pulled on the dressing anchoring the central line to his neck.

'Who shot you Sherlock?'

'I don't remember.'

'Yes you do. If you didn't you wouldn't be being so - evasive.'

Sherlock's eyebrows shot up. 'Swallowed a dictionary, Molly?'

'Oh stop it.'

'Stop what?'

'Stop avoiding the question. Who was it. Was it Magnussen?'

'No.'

'Oh,' Molly frowned and sat down hard on the chair.

'Oh what?' Sherlock snapped.

'You're trying to protect someone, aren't you? You know who shot you and you're protecting them. Why?'

'Molly...' Sherlock said warningly.

'Don't you Molly me, Sherlock Holmes. I'm right aren't I?'

'Why on earth would I want to protect the person who shot me?'

'Because they didn't shoot you in the head,' Molly said quietly.

'Leave it, Molly.' Sherlock said, and there was something in his voice, an edge of sadness, that made Molly acquiesce.

'You should have told me about the drugs,' she told him. 'Before you made me lie for you. You should have told me that it was a double bluff.'

'You think I'm a drug addict? Is that what you think? Do I look like a drug addict to you?'

'They come in all shapes and sizes,' she replied. 'Bankers, stockbrokers, teachers, politicians. Age, class or profession is no protection from addiction. You know that.'

'It was for the case.'

'That's not what I asked. You do admit that you've been using drugs?'

Sherlock sighed. 'That is irrelevant.'

'Bullshit, it's irrelevant. I looked at your drug chart, Sherlock. You're on huge doses of morphine. You've got a tolerance to it, you must have been using for weeks, probably months to get it up that high.'

'A tolerance is not the same as an addiction. It only becomes an addiction once it becomes out of control. It isn't.'

'If you think that, then you're an idiot.'

'I think that because it's true,'

'So if I offered you a hit now? A syringe full of diamorphine, pure as you can get it and the best available cocaine. Enough to take away the pain from your injury. Enough to make you forget everything for a few hours, enough to let you float away. You wouldn't want it?'

'No.'

'Your cardiac monitor says differently,' Molly said quietly. He turned to look at the monitor. His heart rate was up to 130. Far faster than it had been before, the quickening pulse of want, of desire.

'It's a physiological reaction,' Sherlock told her.

'It's a psychological craving, Sherlock,' she replied. 'You're in trouble and you know it.'

'Did you come here just to nag, Molly?'

'I came here to ask you to be careful. John's worried about you. I'm worried about you.'

'I'm touched by your concern,' he replied sarcastically,

'I know that you are,' she said seriously. 'Just - don't do anything stupid, okay? And just think about what I've said. Think about talking to John. He can help. Or I can. When you're ready. Okay, I'm going to go now, before you say something horrible. Just - get better soon, and talk to John.'

'Molly?' he said as she was halfway out the door.

'What?' she asked, just her head and shoulders back in the room.

'Thank you,' he said, and his eyes showed that he meant it.

'You haven't listened to a word that I said, have you.'

'I listened.'

'But you're going to ignore me anyway.'

He smiled at her. 'Bye, Molly. Thank you for coming,' he said. And she shook her head at him in mock despair as she walked away.

I've got no idea why I think that Sherlock would be a Malteasers man. I was going to try to fit in a rather horrible medics joke about never accepting a Malteaser from a little old lady (think about it), but it didn't fit into the dialogue. Bit of a shame really.

Sherbert Fountains - I suspect they're a perculiarly British thing. They're basically a tube of sherbert, with a liquorice stick to dip into it. As Sherlock says, they're not the same now they come in a plastic tube instead of a paper wrapper. Bet he loved those as a child too. I like to think that he ate the liquorice absent-mindedly after he'd put the sherbert into the Baggie for John to find.