Wow...Okay, so I wasn't sure how that last chapter would go over, I think I sort of messed up the concept a bit, but nonetheless, you guys all seemed to enjoy it...so that's good. Thank you for not being mean, if you didn't like it. Lol. Anyway, How about the next chapter, yes? The next three all come fairly quickly, and sort of intermingle, because well, it's just easy to do with the last three we have to go through. Lol. Enjoy!

I am not the owner of anything other than the original idea to write this story. All use of characters is strictly nonprofitable and based solely on the fact that I love them.

Greed

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Greed: n. /grēd/ 1. Intense and selfish desire for something.

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Sherlock awoke sometime in the middle of the night with a very clever idea. He sprang up from his reclined position, only faltering from dizziness for a moment. Soon, he was brandishing his coat and scarf, walking out the front door, and making his way toward St. Bart's.

He'd decided to walk rather than take a cab. He needed time to think. 'How does one best approach this situation without pushing the already skittish woman away further?' Sherlock considered the options. If he let her join in the date of John and Mary, they would eventually want her to have equal company, so as not to feel 'the third wheel'. This meant Mary would find someone for her friend to date. 'Someone else.' This would undoubtedly pull her attention and affections away from him.

"Can't have that, now, can we?" He asked himself in disdain. As much as he hated in admitting it, Sherlock knew the answer all too well. 'No, no we can't. She's my pathologist. She's supposed to be mine.'

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Molly wasn't entirely sure why she was still at work. She could have gone home to her flat hours earlier, but was content in staying and finishing the mountain of paperwork that had been perched on her desk for a week now. She had checked her watch. '3:00 am.' The tired pathologist stacked another completed file neatly on the other side of her desk. She decided she'd do a few more, right after fetching a much needed cup of coffee. As she strolled through the lab, she was startled to see the familiar silhouette by one of the microscopes.

"Sherlock?" Molly asked after him. She seemed to have scared him out of his thoughts, as he looked up at her with big eyes and a frown of confusion.

"Molly? I...didn't realize you'd still be here." Sherlock remarked. He sounded off, to her at least.

"I probably shouldn't be. But now seemed as good a time as any to take care of some backlogs. Wh...what are you doing here?" She asked a tad nervously. In the years she'd known Sherlock, Molly was always expecting him to turn up at the oddest of hours. However, most of those times were resulted from high amounts of stress during a case, or worse, high amounts of drugs to combat his boredom.

"Needed to think. I can leave though, if it bothers you." He answered stoically.

"Oh no...that's fine. Stay as long as you like. I'm actually just going to get some coffee. Do you want any?" Molly smiled at him kindly, which made the brilliant man almost gleam with happiness. 'She's still my pathologist. She's still mine...I think.'

"Yes, please." He nodded. Another bright smile, and she turned to leave. Several minutes later, she returned with two cups in her hand.

"Here we are. Black , two sugars." Molly said as she placed his cup next to the microscope. Sherlock pulled away from it to look at her.

"Thank you, Molly." He took a sip of the steaming liquid, and Molly almost chuckled as she saw his eyes close in admiration of the flavor.

"You always get it right." He muttered. Molly turned from her position as she was walking back to her office.

"What?"

"The coffee. You always manage to get it right. John can never remember what I consider 'two sugars' to be. Loads it up too much. But not you. Why is that?" She gaped at him a bit, her cheeks turning rosier by the second. Molly bit her lower lip a bit, and looked away. When she looked back up, the detective was now placing his cup on the work station table, and walking toward her. The signature calculative look gleamed brilliantly in his eyes. She shifted nervously back and forth at his approach.

"Why, Molly? Why remember something so trivial?" She looked up again, debating on which of the many reasons to give him. She finally settled on a culmination of them all.

"Well, it's important to you, so I try to keep it the same every time. I know I don't do a lot of other things right, so if I can keep your mind focused and help you by getting at least your coffee right so you can concentrate, then I know I'm still useful for something." Molly smiled at him. Sherlock, in all his cleverness, could never have anticipated her answer. It was all for him. 'She's still mine.' Sherlock looked up, wanting to tell her she was good at so much more than preparing coffee, but she had already retreated to her office. He sighed out a long breath. 'She doesn't know that she's mine. She doesn't think that she's mine.'

It had been another hour before Molly emerged, coat on and ready to leave. Sherlock was still looking through the lens of the scope.

"Goodnight, Sherlock." She said quietly.

"Goodnight." Came the focused reply. She smiled to herself, before leaving him to his work. Meanwhile, Sherlock's mind was working out a problem. 'If she thinks she's only good for coffee, then I'll just have to show her how important that is.' Sherlock sighed in frustration, his head not feeling remotely good in the process. He had stayed in his spot for the remainder of the night, and by early morning, the consulting detective was asleep.

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Molly had only returned home for a few hours, rest and a quick shower, before she had been called back in. She sighed and agreed to come in for the emergency autopsy. As she strolled into the lab to head to her hidden office, she stopped. There, right where she'd left him, was Sherlock. He was leaning on the metal table, a soft snore emitting from deep within his throat. Molly giggled quietly as she watched him sleep. His breathing was deep, heavy with relaxation. Molly softly went out again, and several minutes later, she returned with a cup of coffee in hand. She placed it in the incubating microwave, and scribbled out a note to tell him of its existence.

She shut one of the lights to the lab off on her way out, leaving the resting man comfortably unaware, and quite literally, in the dark.

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When he awoke, he was greeted with ambient silence, and only half of the lighting he had remembered being there. Sitting up to stretch his stiff muscles, the detective noticed a small piece of paper next to a slide. He picked it up and read it with a small smile.

Sherlock,

Didn't want to wake you. There's coffee in the micro for you. Just press the start button to reheat it.

-Molly xx

He stood and walked to the side of the lab containing the medical sized box, and pressed the start button. When it had finished warming the cuppa, Sherlock lifted it up directly to his lips. As the liquid slipped past his lips and onto his tongue, he became astonished, no, dumbfounded. 'How does she manage to get the temperature perfect as well?' He wondered as he took another sip. Within less than five minutes, he had finished the entire cup. It was delicious. Absolutely delicious. For some reason, one that escaped him entirely, he craved more. 'Now.'

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Well, hm, this is all escalating so quickly. Lol..I know that was a bit different than what you were probably expecting for the greed section, but I promise it was well thought out, especially once the whole thing plays out. I hope you liked this. :D Leave me a review to let me know, please?