Hello, this is the Queen speaking.

Next chapter, as promised. Here we got a bit of feels for Sherlock and his friends and Sherlock's struggles with 'What the hell is Lestrade's first name? ' Yay! More fun to follow. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: not mine. BBC 'Sherlock' belongs to Motffis.

...

Sherlock spent most of the flight in his mind palace, digging through to find the door labeled 'Russia'. Once he found it he extracted his Russian language and Russian culture. The other part of the flight he spent remembering his friends back in London. Boy, what Sherlock wouldn't give to hear John yell at him for being an arrogant prick, to hear Mrs Hudson tell him that she wasn't his housekeeper. He could almost hear Gavin, no, George... Gabbie?...Glen...whatever, Lestrade telling him he can't get him a specific case because it wasn't his devision. A smile crept onto his lips. He missed them, he knew it was useless sentimentality but he couldn't help but feel a loss at their absence.

Once he arrived he was meet with his handler from the Russian military (Mycroft had insisted that he had a new handler in each country. In Sherlock's opinion, he could handle himself just fine, but they were useful for information on the mission.) Ioseif was a little uptight but he didn't take too much and wouldn't ask stupid, obvious questions, so he was alright. The mission was over and done with within a three day span. Well that was easy.

The next few countries and missions flew by. As soon as Mycroft found a new crime syndicate that was connected to Moriarty he would make a list and send his little brother on his way. Bangladesh. Iran. Cape Verde. They rolled by, each seemingly getting easier as they went along. Afghanistan was particularly difficult, but not the mission, the place. Afghanistan just reminded him of John. It was around the time he was in Belgium that he started to feel like something was off.

"-and they have been stealing things, but in all the raids it is just gold that they take. They come across pearls, jewels, statues, paintings, works of art worth a fortune but it is only ever gold. We may want to set a trap by finding their goat and... Mr Holmes, are you even listening to me?"

Sherlock snapped out of his mind palace and faced the man infront of him. "What? Oh, yes. Sorry Marc, no. I stopped listening when you started talking about the nail file. What were you saying?"

"What were you thinking about? Douglas, your handler from-"

"Yes, Scotland, I remember."

"...Wales, said you were difficult but you don't seem disinterested. You seem... distracted."

Sherlock paused. Marc reminded him of Glen, ugh, Gretel...Gordon...No it's an Ed kind of thing...Bread, Head, Ed, Ged, Greg...Greg! "Greg!"

"What?"

"Oh, sorry I didn't mean to say that out loud... I feel like all of these missions are getting easier. At first I thought it was just me getting better, but now I'm starting to have my suspensions. The actual cases aren't getting easier, and I'm not getting better, it's just the people are making bigger and more obvious mistakes. It's like... It's like there is something else going on."

Sherlock and Marc pondered the words for a little while. Marc looked as though he was just about to say something when Sherlock jumped up and practical screamed "We need to contact my brother!"

...

On the fifth try, Mycroft final picked up the phone.

"What is it brother mine? "

"I need you to check on all my friends and acquaintances."

"Why? They were perfectly fine a few weeks ago."

"Yes but I think there is something going on. I just need you to check Myke, can you do that?... P...Please."

"Fine. Since you asked so nicely."

Sherlock waited for a little while before he heard from Mycroft again. "Alright, brother dear, all the information is being sent to your handler's laptop. It was Marc Philips yes? "

"Yes."

"Good bye, Sherlock. Have fun."

Sherlock pocketed his phone and turned to Marc who was turning his computer around for Sherlock to see. He started to read.

John was fine. Dating a nurse, Mary. In no immediate danger.

Lestrade was fine. Divorced from his wife. Again. Doing fine at the Yard.

Mrs Hudson was fine. Still a landlady. Hip is getting better. All seems to be fine with her.

Molly was fine. She was still working at Barts. Still lived in her usual flat. And was dating again. (For some reason that made Sherlock feel a tight constricting in his chest. But she was allowed to date. He was fine with that. He didn't own her.)

He was about to click of the emails and think of another reason for the increasing ease of these missions when he saw who Molly was dating. The Sebastian guy. The one that was put to steal her money. Sherlock, against his better judgement, decided to do research on this Sebastian.

He hadn't realized that it was getting late until Marc told him he was going to head to bed and leave him to it.

"Make sure you charge it, we may need to use it tomorrow to figure out a plan for Conan."

Sherlock spent a little while searching the web and hacking into cameras and files. By three in the morning he was running up the stairs to wake Marc and calling Mycroft.

"Mycroft...Yah I know it's early... Yes I agree... I agree you need your beauty sleep, but that doesn't matter right now... Oh suck it up Mycroft and get off your fat ass... We need a plane... Have you heard of Sebastian Moran?... Yes, the one that works for Moriarty... Well, the little fucker is dating my Molly !"

...

Molly smoothed her hands over her yellow dress. Seb had really proven himself to her. Yes, Sherlock had told her he was after her money, but he actually seemed interested in her beyond money. She wasn't going to give him any, but he didn't seem to mind. They had been dating since a week after Sherlock had left.

She heard a knock at the door to her flat. She trotted over in her heels and opened it, to reveal a polished looking Seb.

He held his elbow out to her. "Are you ready for an evening out M'Lady?"

Molly giggled and slipped her arm through his. "More than you know."

"Hey, Moll?"

"Yes, Sebby?"

"When do I get to meet your friends?"

"When I get to meet yours."

"I'm not sure you'd like some of my friends. But there is one that is extremely excited to see you again."

"Again?"

"Ya, he pointed you out to me at the hospital."

"Oh, thats sweet. I can't wait to meet him."

"Trust me, the feeling is mutual."

...

Who's ready for Shezza to come back to London? Slowly but surely Sherlock is making his way back to our Molly, but how will he be able to convince Molly that the man she is dating is a criminal when he hasn't seen her for months?

Next chapter on Wednesday

Thanks for reading and reviewing.