Author's note: It is finally picking up pace... sort of. And, hurray, more banter! Because that's what we all watch movies and read books for, right? I love it way too much, I know...

And this story has now even more followers! More than I ever had! That is so awesome... I might even be happier than little Mycroft was when he got his first mini-umbrella, and that's saying something (Mind: You know, we could write this... Me: Nooooooooooooooooooooooo Mind: You know you want to).

Also, I think it's time I dedicate another chapter of one of my stories to my little brother. What would life be without annoying younger siblings?

I still don't own anything and please review.

„Okay, so I scare her Ladyship into calling the big bad consulting criminal, making myself a target in the process, all while drinking just enough Whiskey to keep my wits and yet not lose them at the same time… So far, so easy" Greg says.

„Easy…" John mutters.

„I do admit that the plan could easily backfire, especially in our present condition" Sherlock answers. "But we have to do our outmost to rid the town – and, effectively, the world – of the Napoleon of crime."

"Then why not go to the police" John demands, "the real police, I mean?" He shoots Greg a glance. "Sorry."

"Don't worry mate, I have drunk too much in – well, let's be honest, in the last several years to get all teary-eyed because of a little insult. Wasn't even a good one. Sherlock's far more inventive."

"I told you, everyone's an idiot."

"By your standards, 'Lock, and that's not exactly..."

"Why not go to the police?" John interrupts impatiently, and Sherlock is once again reminded of his John, who rather enjoys banter, especially when he can participate. This one, though... maybe he's too broken. Maybe he's too annoyed. Maybe he doesn't even really believe in them, in their friendship. And that – that just hurts, because even when Sherlock was dead, John believed in him; how vividly he remembers John's goodbye at the cemetery...

But he can't be sentimental now, not when Moriarty is here... even if "here" only exists in his mind. An existing Moriarty could do all sorts of damage there, he doesn't doubt that.

"And how do you propose to convince the police?"

"Evidence? There has to be some kind of evidence" John says, frustrated.

"Moriarty doesn't leave behind evidence. He only left clues at the Brackenstall's because he was bored."

"You mean: bored like a drug addict who has to make up archenemies so his life isn't the failure it appears to be?"

Sherlock recoils like John just hit him, and in a way, he did. To hear those words, coming from him...

"Hey!" Greg sounds... angry. But somehow even more dangerous than in the lab, when John verbally attacked the DI himself. "If you're not ready to help, you better leave now, mate. I'm rather drunk and can therefore not be held responsible for my actions."

"I just..." John tries to say something, regret already in his eyes, but Greg interrupts him. "If you're so lonely that you run through town a whole night just to insult the person you've been searching – you're even more pathetic than I am, and that's saying something."

"I'm sorry, Sherlock" John says, instead of acknowledging Greg's rant. "It's just... this is all so new and weird and unbelievably exciting and I haven't really spoken to anyone in years and... Sherlock, I'm sorry. I shouldn't take my frustration out on you –" a short silence. "Or Greg".

"Thanks for the significant pause there, mate. But alright. Sherlock, what do you think?"

"It's fine. It's all fine." No, it isn't, but he'll take what he can get. "Thanks, Greg"

"Hey, you got me into my office – comparatively sober. I'd do anything for you."

But before Sherlock can answer, or elaborate further on the lack of evidence, the door opens and the "real police" as John put it storms in. In the shape of Sally Donavan, no less.

Sherlock doesn't even have the time to think of an explanation or a snide remark, which is a first when it comes to the Sergeant, she starts glaring daggers at Greg. "Lestrade, I just heard you had dragged a drug addict – and a high one, at that – into your office because he had broken into your flat, without paying attention to the fact that you should either have called an ambulance – for all you know, he could be dying of an overdose right know – or the colleagues in uniform? No, you just decided to drag a small-time criminal and his social worker – who definitely has better things to do – in your office, never mind that..."

But Sherlock doesn't hear the rest of the rant, because he is too busy trying to process that Sally Donavan is defending him. Against Greg of all people.

Thankfully John decides to step in. "It's all been cleared up, thank you – "

"Sergeant. Sergeant Donavan."

"Right. So, Sergeant Donavan, I will take... Ben here" (clever not to use real names, thank you, John) "to our doctor, and DI Lestrade, if he chooses, can accompany us, to make sure I don't help him to escape or something like that".

"Good." Donavan answers, and her eyes are glittering with hope that Sherlock will actually escape and she'll be the DI soon.

They leave the office quickly, pass a sneering Anderson on the way – so at least he hasn't changed – and get out of the Yard as fast as they can. "Good thinking, John" Sherlock praises.

"Thanks, just popped into my head – I might be better at this stuff than I realized."

"While you are still handing out compliments, what about me? I think I made a great job of standing around and pretending to be drunk".

"Because you are drunk".

"Doesn't make it any less true, 'Lock".

"Right, so, really really great job imitating an alcoholic Greg, so where to now?" John asks, eagerly. This is more like Sherlock's John, and he takes comfort in that.

"St Bart's – while I do not believe Moriarty left any real evidence behind, I am rather curious about what the DNA-test gives us."

"Great! If I get killed tomorrow by a criminal mastermind – at least I'll have had another chance to look at a pretty girl" Greg takes a sip.

Sherlock and John look at each other, but, surprisingly not without affection.

So they make their way back.

Mike is waiting for them in the lab, still smiling pleasantly and looking at John like he hasn't seen him this happy in a long time, which, Sherlock supposes, is the truth.

"DNA just came through."

"Great, thanks, Mike" Sherlock says, at the same time that Greg asks "How did Molly's lunch date go?"

Mike shoots John a glance, who nods, but just when he opens his mouth, Molly comes in.

"Oh, hi, Mike, I didn't know... Oh, hello, DI Lestrade" She looks slightly flustered and John and Sherlock look at each other, than at Mike. Then all of them roll their eyes.

"Seriously, I think she'd even get him off the booze" John mouths at Sherlock, who winks.

"Hello, Molly, I don't think you've met..."

At this moment, DI – no, DS – Dimmock strolls in.

"Hey, Molly, I thought we could meet at the Fox... about six-ish?"

Molly looks at him, then at Greg, clearly asking for help. Because the Di is too busy staring at her to notice, John clears his throat.

"Actually, I'm rather sorry, but we need her help in an investigation..."

"And you are?" Dimmock inquires, rather annoyed.

"I'm – Martin. Forensics. New."

"Good, then – Molly, we'll be in touch, yes?"

"Sure" she answers, smiling at John and then at Greg before she nods at Dimmock.

He leaves and Greg resumes. "I don't think you've met John and Sherlock..." indicating which is which with his hands "They're helping me in the Brackenstall case".

"Oh, the murdered MP..." Molly suddenly looks sheepish. "I'm terribly sorry, DI – "

"Greg". "Oh, right, Greg" she smiles, and Greg actually blushes, then she looks worried "I don't know what happened to the evidence, I know, it's awful, but... It was right with the autopsy report, and next thing I know, neither is on my desk..."

"It's alright" Sherlock answers. "The evidence is here, as well as the report. Mike kept a very good eye on it."

Molly barely spares him a glance – still a bit shy around strangers, then, but Sherlock has to admit it is a strange feeling that the girl who's had a crush on him ever since he first strolled into Bart's, the girl who helped him fake his death, the girl who lied to all his friends for three long years and still regrets it, the girl who has become a friend to him somehow, doesn't even seem to care that he's in the room.

He feels guilty when he thinks about all the lies she told, and then makes a decision: He knows Lestrade is interested, he remembers the Christmas Party. Now, should he wake up and Molly is interested too...

They deserve happiness. Why not play matchmaker. It might help with the boredom. And John would most likely help to.

But he has to wake up first.

The ceiling, the room, the silver-haired man, a young woman. "I'm worried, DI –"

"Call me Greg, will you? We are all Sherlock's friends, here, don't you think?" He flashes her a smile.

"Good, Greg then –" she blushes. "I'm worried about Sherlock, of course, but John – he seems beside himself. His brother, too. And Mrs. Hudson."

"I think we are all beside ourselves, Molly. Losing him once was bad enough... But losing him twice – I don't think – I couldn't"

She puts a hand on his arm and squeezes. He smiles at here gratefully.

"Sherlock came back after three years" she reminds him. "Don't worry, he'll make it back again."

"I hope so. I need him, God help me, but I do."

Molly and Lestrade disappear, and he's left – again – in this strange, wrong world. Luckily, this time he didn't faint and nobody seems to have noticed. Most likely because no time has passed, since Molly is still answering Mike.

"Oh, that's good, then. Thank you, Mike"

Mike smiles at her – of course.

"No problem. And, if you don't mind me asking, how did your lunch date go?"

She smiles, though rather strained.

"He's nice enough – but – he is a bit full of himself. Kept talking about how they had treated him unfairly.

"Yes, he does that." Mike says, politely ignoring Greg pumping his fist in the air behind Molly's back.

Sherlock clears his throat.

"The DNA test?"

"Oh, right, here they are, Sherlock". Mike gives him the printout, and Sherlock reads it, then sighs.

"Sherlock? What is it?" John inquires anxiously.

"As I expected. No DNA on the third glass, but any attorney would say that Her Ladyship was confused after suffering a blow to the head. And the two other glasses confirm that two men drank the wine – two men who are closely related. Like father and son".

"But, then..." John looks confused, but Greg interrupts. "I do know how to handle police files, you know. I'm not just here for my good looks" He winks at Molly, who blushes again.

"You remember when we were looking at the case files?"

"That was less than an hour ago, Greg. I think we may be able to remember".

"Anyway, 'Lock, I checked the Randalls' police records while you were explaining something or other to John. There is everything – prior convictions, habits, pictures, etc. But no DNA."

"Wait – they are robbers, and no one ever bothered to take a sample?" John asks bewildered.

"Moriarty must have deleted it" Sherlock replies. "and, trust me, if somebody manages to catch them – there will be a DNA sample in the file, and it will match that on the glasses".

"He is good, I'll give him that" Greg comments, reaching in his pocket, then looking at Molly and finally deciding not to take a drink in her presence.

Before Sherlock can answer, he gets a text.

I believe you promised me to stay in touch.
M.

Sherlock discreetly blinks away a lone tear.

I'm alright. I'll try to bring down Moriarty with my friends.
S.

He doesn't expect a reply, but it comes almost immediately.

I want to help. Come to my house with your friends. We can come up with a plan together.
I can even buy cocaine, if that helps.
I don't want to lose you so soon after getting you back.
Please delete this message and never think of it again.
M.

Sherlock looks at John and Greg. "We're going to my brother's, he wants to help us."

"Fine by me. Does he have booze?" Greg asks, then remembers that Molly's in the room and shuts his mouth, embarrassed.

"Oh, I think everyone's got that. I always have wine in my fridge" she replies, to the surprise of all.

"Well... That's good, then" Greg answers, smiling.

Sherlock clears his throat. "We better be off. Mike, Molly..." then he remembers. "Nice meeting you."

"You too" Molly answers, still looking at Greg. Mike waves his hand. "If you need anything, just tell John to give me a call."

Then they are on their way, deciding to take a cab.

They'll never know that Mike, after having said goodbye to Molly and sent her a wink, calls his wife to tell her one thing:

John Watson is finally starting to live again.

Author's note: A little shorter, but I wanted to give you guys an update today, so... Also, Molly made an appearance because one of my most faithful readers/reviewers asked for it. This is for you. Thank you, and I hope you keep reading. As I hope does each and everyone of you, you wonderful persons.

Mind: Now on to the next chapter.

Me: I update every day, give me a little break, will you?

Mind: No. It's shorter this time, isn't it?

Me: Come on... I have family, friends, a life?

Mind: That isn't controlled by your little obsession?

Me: ... No.

...

Mind: Btw... You do know you are actually talking to yourself, right?

Me: Doesn't make it less annoying.

I hope you liked it, and please review.