Wrong. Wrong. Wrong!

Sherlock growled to himself, hastily uncapping a red marker and scribbling with much more force than was necessary over the paper he had taped to the wall, with a nearly impressive amount of writing on it, done in crosshatch due partly to for privacy reasons and partly due to an excessive amount of reluctance to go retrieve paper from anywhere else in the room. Unfortunately, all of that work was going to waste.

Yet another promising lead, gone very wrong.

Shoving the marker in his pocket, he rubbed his hands over his face and groaned loudly, shortly thereafter pinching the bridge of his nose and opening his eyes, dark spots temporarily dancing in his line of vision. He didn't have time for this. He had to figure out where Moriarty was. There wasn't room for trial and error, despite the Yard's apparent view on the matter.

His phone buzzed, revealing a text confirmation from Peter and Amy that yes, the lead most definitely was wrong. Though he'd already known, seeing it in writing somehow made him angrier.

A gentle creak was heard as the door swung open, and Sherlock's head snapped up. He watched as the concerned, robe-clad pathologist stepped into the room, eyes scanning his surroundings and finally resting on him.

"It's 4 in the morning, why are you up?" he questioned monotonously, taking the marker out again and moving back towards the wall.

"I could ask the same of you, you know," Molly replied, her hands slipping into her pockets as she stepped cautiously toward him.

"You could, though considering that you didn't, I'd thoroughly enjoy an answer to my question," he muttered, scribbling over two other sheets of paper hanging over the wallpaper.

Molly bit her lip, glaring at him in annoyance for a moment, though her expression changed as it fell upon his. He looked irritated, yes, but worried. His brow crinkled in the middle and rose at the ends, mouth trained in a more prominent frown than a line of concentration. There was a slouch in his shoulders and she saw circles under his eyes. She took another step towards him. "Sherlock..."

"Leeds," he mumbled, looking down at the floor and blinking. He then swiveled towards her direction, looking at her curiously. "Leeds?"

"What?" she asked, a confused smile playing at her lips.

"Leeds!" He repeated, louder this time. "He could be hiding in Leeds."

Molly frowned, exhaling slowly. "Sherlock, he's probably not in Leeds."

"And how exactly might you know that?"

"You don't need to worry about him right now."

"I most certainly do," he retorted, his forehead creasing. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because he's not here right now. And he's not exhausted."

Sherlock stared at her uncomprehendingly. "I don't follow."

Bringing herself the rest of the way towards him, she placed her hands on his arms. "You're exhausted," she clarified. "You won't be figuring anything out if you're tired. Go to sleep, just for a few hours, if you absolutely refuse to sleep for eight hours."

His eyes grazed her shoulder. "I can't."

Molly squeezed his shoulders gently. "And why would that be?"

"Because I don't want it to happen again. I don't want him here again. Not near you."

She stared up at him for a moment, her face softening. "Sherlock," she murmured quietly, reaching up and brushing the hair from his forehead. Startled by the touch, Sherlock looked down at her, though he didn't say anything, simply watching her. Standing on her toes, Molly kissed his temple and stepped back, pulling him by the waist towards the sofa. "Lie down."

"I don't want to."

"You don't have an option," Molly insisted, pushing lightly at his chest. "Doctor's orders, alright?" she teased, a playful smile at her lips.

Sherlock looked down at the sofa for a moment, then sighed and reluctantly nodded. The only reason he was giving in, he assured himself, was due to a fixation of the fact that what she had just done had felt very good, and he was entirely exhausted.

That wouldn't work again.

Surely.

Molly managed to coax him onto the sofa, and pulled a blanket from the back of it. Just as she began spreading the blanket over his long form, he held up a hand.

"Sherlock...oof," Molly was cut short from her argument by the force of his arms pulling her down. She found herself sprawled out over his chest, blushing furiously despite her best wishes. "Sherlock?" she inquired, raising her head and blushing further as she realized how close her face was to his.

"Oh, just sleep, will you?" The detective muttered, bringing the blanket up over them.

Molly stared at him for a few seconds, but nodded in agreement. "Okay," she said, unable to stop the grin that formed on her face as he held her, feeling his breathing slow after a few moments, his warmth causing her to fall asleep just moments after him.

That took a while. I'm sorry :( There are eight more chapters left, unless I merge some together. Thank you so much for your patience in reading and keeping up with the very inconsistent pace at which I write. *gives hugs and cookies to everyone*