A/N This is my first fanfiction, please read and review. All rights to Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, all geniuses in my opinion. This is a bit of a filler chapter. Please read, enjoy and review...

The Final Solution

Chapter 8

Sherlock awoke slowly, as he began to become aware he registered something out of place beneath his right arm. The previous days activities came flooding back to him. The search, Moriarty, coming back to Molly's, John. Sherlock felt a stab of guilt when he thought of John, he could almost hear the racking sobs John had been making the previous night. Sherlock was still unsure as to what was under his arm, he cracked open his eyes. He almost gasped, he had been sleeping with his arm comfortably resting over Molly's stomach.

Gently Sherlock started to move his arm off of the still sleeping Molly, however as he began Molly murmured in her sleep, her eyelids fluttering. Sherlock abruptly stopped his attempt, he wanted to let Molly rest. It was after all his fault she was so exhausted.

Sherlock waited patiently, watching her sleep. She looked so different asleep he thought, so peaceful and innocent.

Abruptly the peace was disturbed by the sound of footsteps from the other room, John had just awoken. Sherlock knew he had seconds to act, he roughly shook Molly awake and leapt off the bed.

Molly was bleary eyed. "Sherlock, what's going..." In another stride Sherlock was back on the bed, leaning over Molly, his finger to her lips.

"Ssh." He whispered. He was almost out of time, a one word explanation would have to do. "John." With that he dove under the bed, curling slightly so al of his tall frame was hidden.

Molly also jumped out of the bed, her brain having reminded her of the situation, glancing down at the floor, she checked she could see neither hide nor hair of Sherlock. She pulled the door open , revealing John Watson with his hand raised pre-knock.

"Good Morning John." Molly knew her attempt at a calm façade was futile, hopefully John would put it down to grief. "I hope you are feeling a bit better."

"I am." John's voice was croaky, his hair ruffled as if his sleep had been fitful, thinking about it, it probably was. "Thank you for letting me stay Molly. You didn't have to."

"I know I didn't have to, I wanted to." Molly thought back to the day before, to an almost identical conversation. Letting John stay the night was nowhere near as trying as what Sherlock had asked her. "Would you like some breakfast?" She needed to get him to leave her room, he was close to discovering the secret she had promised to keep.

"No thanks. I was just going to thank you and then I'd better go." The half smile that he had had abruptly vanished. "I need to go back to Baker Street, start arranging things."

Internally Molly let out a sigh of relief. "If you're sure John." She walked him towards the door to her flat, shutting her bedroom door as she stepped through it. "Remember if you need anything, anything at all, call me."

After expressing his thanks yet again, John left. Molly hurried back to her bedroom. Sherlock was back on the bed.

"That was too close." He stated.

"I couldn't just insist he go home." Molly's voice was raised, the words that went unsaid the previous night now being shouted across the small room. "It's your fault he was so upset, you broke him Sherlock, so don't blame me."

"I wasn't" Sherlock's voice calmer. "I was just stating a fact, I thought that's what you're meant to do, make conversation." John had always told him that talking made people feel more relaxed.

"Ugh." Molly was reaching breaking point, he was so obnoxious. Could he really understand so little about social situation. "You're, you're incorrigible." She stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door.

Sherlock was bemused, he would never have guessed that Molly Hooped could be so passionate, she had always been so sweet and endearing. He heard the shower turn on. Picking up his trousers he slid them back on and left the room. He needed coffee.

Molly stood under the steaming flow of water and tried to calm down., they had both been put in an impossible situation, she couldn't truly blame him. She had always known he wasn't a 'people person', Molly had never thought he would be easy to live with.

As the pounding water relaxed her shoulders she managed to let some of her anger go, maybe she had overreacted. Molly was tired, she had not slept well, her dreams had been filled with images of both Sherlock's dead body lying on a slab and John's face soaked with tears. Molly started to sob, her tears mixing with the flow of water, she didn't know what to do. Whatever choice she made someone would get hurt. She quickly shoved those thoughts to the back of her mind and concentrated on washing her hair. Dwelling on her decision wouldn't help, she had made her choice and she was going to stick to it.

Meanwhile Sherlock was standing in the kitchen trying to work out how to make a coffee, he had never had to before, there had always been someone else around , willing to do it for him. It couldn't be that hard he thought, even the most simple of people manage it.

Sherlock carefully filled the kettle and removed it to it's base. As he continued these basic activities his mind wandered, he needed to continue his plan, he couldn't stay here forever. What were his other options though?

He couldn't leave the country, he had to keep John and the others safe , even if it was from a distance.

He could go to Mycroft and ask for help, that idea didn't appeal to him though, no matter how high up in the government Mycroft got, he would always be just a spiteful, older brother to Sherlock.

The streets. He could utilise his homeless network again. There were some serious downsides to this, he would end up cold and hungry. He also wouldn't have access to anything, at least here he could persuade Molly to let him use her laptop. Also if he left he wouldn't be able to talk to Molly, something he found surprisingly enjoyable.

That settled it for him, he would stay here with Molly for as long as she would have him.