A/N: Since some people asked… Yes, the names, places, cases etc. are all taken from ACD's canon, or somehow related to it or to some of its tributes. But don't worry if you don't recognize the references as such, the story will still make sense.

Thank you all for your patience, encouragement, comments, follows… You are the best!

Lines one should not cross

"The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes."
― Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles

Molly had given it a lot of thought. Maybe it was masochistic – it was definitely masochistic – but she had come to terms with the fact that she seemed to have a masochistic streak, for what other explanation was there for her love for an ADD sociopath? But after considering Sherlock's request (well, order...), she had finally come to the decision that it was for the best if she helped him with the investigation. She had no illusions that it was going to be easy, but she was convinced that she could do it. Maybe trying to see Tom's death from an investigator's point of view might help her deal with it? That way she might feel a bit more like she was in control of the situation, and that was a feeling Molly Hooper longed to feel again: being in control and not feeling like her life was controlled by others.

At 10:00 a.m. sharp the world's only consulting detective got out of a cap (Molly wondered how he managed to always find a cap when he needed one) in front of Tom's building and went over to Molly who was waiting from him. He noticed that she did not wear a turtle neck shirt this time, but a pink scarf to protect herself from the cold.

"Morning, Molly," he acknowledged her by nodding.

"Hi, Sherlock."

There was an awkward pause for a moment, in which neither of them did seem to know how to proceed. Molly knew Sherlock detested small talk, so she did not dare ask him how he was or – God forbid – how awful the weather was. And Sherlock on the other hand, felt like he was supposed to ask her how she was, but felt that it would be weird, given the fact that he usually did not bother with small talk.

So after shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other (Molly) and putting up a stone-like face (Sherlock), the consulting detective broke the silence, "Well, let's get upstairs."

Molly only nodded. For a second she wondered how they were supposed to get inside – she had given back her key some time ago – but before she could ask, Sherlock took the key out of his coat pocket and held the door open for her.

She considered if she should even ask, but Sherlock seemed to have read her mind and informed her, "Lestrade."

Again the pathologist nodded and entered the building, Sherlock following close behind. She was not sure if Lestrade actually knew that Sherlock had the key.

Standing in front of flat Nr 1904 and staring at the white-blue police tape that read "Police Line Do Not Cross", Molly suddenly felt dread coming over her. She felt her palms getting sweaty and her pulse rise. She gulped and told herself to calm down. She did not want Sherlock to see the chaos that suddenly filled her head. She felt a sudden wave of dizziness hit her, as the pictures of the last time she had been here, involuntarily flashed in front of her eyes. She shook her head in order to get rid of them and get a grip of herself again.

Out of the corners of her eyes she saw Sherlock coming to stand next to her and putting the key inside the keyhole. But just as he was about to turn it around, he stopped in his movement and turned towards the pathologist.

To Molly's surprise he did not look at her in his usual deducing manner, but with a more far away expression.

His voice was quite empty when he spoke, "John said it was more than a bit insensitive of me to demand of you to help me investigate in the death of your former fiancé."

Molly needed a moment to process what he had just said. Was he trying to apologize? Was this his way of telling her that she could back out if she wanted to?

She cleared her throat and then replied, "It was. But it's okay. I told you I would help you, so..." Her voice trailed off uncertain.

Only now did Sherlock's eyes focus on her, and for a second something flickered in his gaze that Molly could not place. It looked suspiciously like confusion, but that did not make any sense.

Otherwise his face was impassive when he nodded and said while finally opening the door, "Let's get it over with then."