See I said I was impatient... props to my wonderful husband for help on this one. He makes a great research assistant. Such a lovely big brain he has... he's better than Wikipedia.

A/N: Tiny mention of autopsies, nothing graphic... you've been warned.

Again I own nothing... you know the drill, enjoy!

The Brown Ceiling

It had been one of the longest day of Molly's life, 14 hours, 4 autopsies and so much paperwork she was certain she had developed carpal tunnel syndrome in the span of one day. She couldn't wait to get home, feed her cat and get into a very hot bath. Unfortunately Sherlock Holmes had different plans for his pathologist.

Frankly it was her own fault, Molly should have known something was up. He hadn't been in all day, not once. There was no case or exceptional deaths, all her autopsies were from the same auto accident, the last one turned out to be the driver, they had all been thrown from the car hence the need for the autopsies (will people never learn the importance of seat belts?) She had not heard from the detective since he had been in two days prior to check on some samples in the lab.

She should have been able to smell his boredom from miles away.

When Molly got to her front door the first thing she noticed was that it was unlocked... not good. There was either a burglar inside steeling her grand's 1/16th carrot diamond ring (worth about seventy pounds) or (and frankly more likely) she'd been invaded once again by Sherlock Holmes.

She walked in and said "Sherlock, not tonight!"

"Molly, where have you been? I've been waiting for hours."

Sherlock was in her kitchen wearing goggles, a plastic tarp covering most of the suffices including the table, counters and floors. He had the stupidest smile on his gorgeous face.

"Sherlock! What the hell have you done to my kitchen?"

"Wait until you see this Molly, I found it on YouTube." He was holding a package of candy.

"No! You aren't doing something that requires tarping my flat, this won't end well."

"Molly, I've watched the videos and done all my research, I know what I'm doing. This is going to be so exciting... trust me and watch."

Sherlock put a large bottle of cola (frankly Molly had never seen such a huge bottle of cola in her life) in the middle of her kitchen table. Then he dropped one of the candies, Mentos as it turns out, into the open bottle. A fountain of soda about a foot high erupted from the bottle and Sherlock smiled even brighter and laughed.

"Okay, that was pretty interesting. Why?"

"Well evidently it has to do with the surface of the candies and the carbonation in the cola... let's do it again."

"Look at this mess Sherlock!"

"No worries, I even brought my own paper towels." Sherlock said as he brought out another bottle.

Molly looked around and found said paper towels and started moping up the brown liquid as Sherlock set up another round.

"I think we should increase the amount of candies this time don't you Molly?"

She didn't hear what Sherlock said because she was under the table soaking up some of the liquid that had managed to get on the tarp on the floor. Sherlock dropped an entire pack of mints into the cola causing an eruption to rival that of Mt. Vesuvius, the bottle fell over and shot backwards and cola not only spewed all over her ceiling but about 80% of her kitchen, then landed on the floor next to where Molly was cleaning, covering her in the brown fizzing liquid. Molly was startled by the whole thing and ended up banging her head on her kitchen table.

She carefully extracted herself from the floor dripping and furious. Sherlock at least had the decency to look guilty.

"You put all the candies in at once didn't you?" She said in what Sherlock had come to know as her 'scary calm voice.'

Sherlock giggled and said "I told you it would be exciting." Just then a few drops of cola dripped onto his expensive dress shirt and in his hair, he and Molly looked up.

"You are a wanker." Again very calm. "My house is covered in cola."

"It was diet, it won't be sticky." He said with a small smile.

"Here's what's going to happen... I'm going to take a bath and when I come out you and all evidence of this experiment will be gone, do you understand?"

"..."

"SHERLOCK?"

He jumped at her change in demeanor, "Of course Molly, go take your bath, I'll take care of everything."

Molly walked toward her bathroom rubbing her sore head and mumbling something about the proper way to kill a consulting detective.

Sherlock got to work, he couldn't get the brown stain out of her ceiling however. What the hell do they put in diet cola? He thought.