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CHAPTER TWO
THE BLIND BLOGGER

With her promotion and the gross understaffing of Barts Morgue- plus the work she did for Sherlock- Molly always found herself going into work early and coming home late. This made it all the more difficult for John Watson to realize that not only was she living at 221B but she and Sherlock were married, even several weeks into their cohabitation. Sherlock seemed to take a perverse pleasure in their new roommate's naivety regarding their relationship status. Molly hadn't the heart to point out to her husband it was really an unfair experiment to be running.

As a result of Molly's hectic schedule, she was also certain John thought Sherlock never slept. Sherlock always waited for Molly to come home and woke up along with her. There was precious little time to spend together; he didn't want to waste what they had asleep.

Molly had grabbed the milk out of the refrigerator before settling down at the kitchen table. Sherlock made a tutting noise as she used up the rest.

"You know you don't need to drown your tea," Sherlock pointed out.

Molly stuck her tongue out at Sherlock. "I don't judge you for the way you take your beverages. Like that horrible, bitter coffee."

"John is always wondering why we're out of milk," Sherlock replied. "He thinks I've got a calcium deficiency."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Why don't you just explain to John that your wife uses a lot of milk in her tea?"

Sherlock picked up the newspaper and began to read it. "That sounds horribly dull. Stop by the shops on your way home from work?"

"Sherlock," Molly whined. "I'm going to be on my feet the entire day. By the time I get home, I'm just going to want to collapse. Why can't you do it?"

Sherlock considered the question. "I can send John out."

Molly laughed softly and got out of her seat. She stepped in front of Sherlock, moving his paper out of the way. He looked up at her with keen interest as she crawled into his lap.

"Oh." Sherlock put the paper aside, slipping his hands around Molly's waist. "Do we have time before you have to go to work?"

Molly smiled as she moved in closer to Sherlock, kissing him firmly. "You." She punctuated each word with a kiss. "Are. The. Laziest. Genius." She pressed her forehead to his. "Especially for one who gets so easily bored."

Sherlock's hands slipped over Molly's backside, causing her to giggle. "You know, John has been searching for work during the afternoons. Around the time you take lunch."

Molly pulled back, cocking her head. "Oh does he? And?"

Sherlock's hands held Molly firmly in place. "It takes approximately thirty minutes by cab for a round trip home to work. You have an hour for lunch. Imagine what we could do with half an hour to ourselves."

Molly arched a brow. "You want me to give up my lunchbreak just so we can have a quickie in the middle of the afternoon?"

Sherlock leaned in, nipping at Molly's jaw. "Well, when you work late, you're too tired to do anything interesting. You also have to keep down those delightful noises you like to make now that John is living here."

"And whose idea was that again?" Molly pointed out. She sighed happily at the sensation of his teeth pressing against her skin. She buried her fingers in Sherlock's hair, allowing him to lavish her with attention for a few moments. "All right... All right... I'll consider coming home."

Sherlock chuckled softly. "Good girl."

Molly gave him a swat on the shoulder as she climbed out of his lap. "All right. I have to go to work." She leaned in and gave him a quick peck. "I'll see you later. Stay out of trouble."

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "What trouble would I get into?"

Molly grabbed her shoes and sat back down to put them on. "The Jaria Diamond. I looked over the notes on it. Sherlock, I know you're dead curious, but those are not people you want to be working for."

Sherlock's brow furrowed deeper. "What makes you think that?"

"The fact that they are the ones who stole it in the first place." She smiled at Sherlock's surprised look. "Oh come on Sherlock... I've been married to you for over a year. You think I don't know how to suss things out like this by now?"

Sherlock pulled Molly back to him as she stood up. "You are absolutely gorgeous. Don't worry. I was already planning to talk to their messenger today."

"Carefully," Molly insisted. She gave Sherlock a light tap on the arm. "Now let me go. I'm going to be late."

With one final kiss, Molly grabbed her bag and ran towards the door. Just as it was closing, she heard John come downstairs. "Was someone here, Sherlock?"

"Don't worry about it, John. By the way, we're out of milk."

Molly really should have known better.

Sherlock might have complained about their intimate relations always involving one or both of them being tired, there was a lot to be said for spontaneity. It was really the only way to go about things when married to Sherlock Holmes.

She'd done as asked and come home during her lunch break. As she walked in the door, she pulled her hair from its ponytail. "You know, this isn't going to become a habit. Doing this absolves you of the responsibility of cuddling, due to my work schedule and I happen to like..."

Molly came to an abrupt halt when she found not Sherlock in the sitting room, but her brother-in-law, carefully studying the handle on his umbrella. "I never would have pegged you for the type to make appointments for intimate relations, Miss Hooper."

Molly crossed her arms over her chest. "You know, your brother and I have been married for over a year. You can call me Molly, Mycroft."

Mycroft smiled toothily. "Of course, Miss Hooper. It's been a while since you and I have seen each other."

Of course, that had been by design on Mycroft's part no doubt. He had never been thrilled by Molly's presence in Sherlock's life. Molly looked around the sitting room. "Where's Sherlock?"

"It seems he is out."

As Molly looked around the flat, a thrill of panic went through her. She walked to the kitchen table, seeing the deep scratch mark in the wood. That was new from that morning. There had been some sort of tussle, it was clear. To the untrained eye, the flat looked as messy as ever, but there were distinct differences from the way Molly had left it that morning. She made a small squeaking noise as Mycroft pulled the sword out from under Sherlock's chair. "You haven't trained him to put away his toys, Miss Hooper."

"The Jaria Diamond case," Molly gasped.

"Closed," Mycroft replied. "At least, it's nothing for Sherlock- or you- to worry about. Looking at his email, it seems he's acquired a new case. From an old schoolmate. Funny, Sherlock couldn't stand the man when they were at uni. But no doubt Sebastian Wilkes is paying a pretty penny for his services." Mycroft eyed Molly. "And he does have things to upkeep, doesn't he?"

Molly sighed in aggravation. "If I was after your brother's money, I doubt I would still be elbow deep in corpses day in and day out. Also, all of his accounts are in both of our names now." Molly pointed to herself. "And I balance them. He's completely hopeless at it. If I wanted to rob Sherlock blind, I could have done it already and he would probably never know."

Mycroft's eyes narrowed on Molly. "It seems like you've put quite a bit of thought into this, Miss Hooper."

Molly rubbed her temples. "If Sherlock isn't here, I really should grab some lunch before I have to run back to work. Would you mind terribly telling me why you've come?"

"Obviously I am here to see your erstwhile husband." Mycroft sighed, standing up. "But he's running around London with Doctor Watson." He smiled at Molly once again. "How do you feel about that, Miss Hooper? Sherlock having found his soulmate in an army doctor? And not even telling John about you. Certainly doesn't bode well for you."

Molly glared back at Mycroft. "You, of all people, don't need to be told how Sherlock doesn't do things like normal people do. Now why don't you just call Sherlock? His mobile is essentially grafted to his hand. In fact, he might have been trying to design some technology so that was actually possible..."

Mycroft gave Molly a small nod. "Well, I shall just have to go about other avenues. Miss Hooper, always a pleasure."

Molly rolled her eyes as she watched Mycroft leave. "Tell me, Mycroft... Does lying constantly just come naturally to members of the British government?"

By the time Sherlock got back to 221B, Molly was already in bed, her back turned to him. She listened to the sound of his footsteps, the rustle of clothing and then felt the bed sink as he sat. He leaned over, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "You're angry at me."

"No," Molly grumbled. "I'm angry at myself for thinking you would remember we had a lunch appointment."

"The case became more complicated than I originally thought," Sherlock sighed. "I did not expect a staged suicide scene."

Molly tried to stiffen herself as he slipped under the covered and spooned her, his hand slipping beneath her camisole to stroke her navel. "I understand. Believe me, I do. It was silly of me to think nothing would come up. When I married you, I knew sex wasn't your top priority." Molly turned her head to capture Sherlock's lips briefly. "Butyou can't expect me to come home just on the off-chance you'll be there and feeling randy."

Sherlock nuzzled his nose against Molly's cheek, causing her to giggle. "All right. From now on, I'll text you if at your break, I'm at home and feeling randy."

Molly crinkled her nose. "What am I to do with you?"

Sherlock growled low in his throat, inching his hand up Molly's shirt. "I can think of at least a dozen things."

It was no surprise to Molly when only a day later she received a text from Sherlock ten minutes before he lunch break.

John is out. Come home.
-SH

Despite Sherlock's gentle affection the night previous, they had not gone any further, Molly exhausted from work and Sherlock focused on his case. Perhaps Sherlock had closed the case already. He was insufferably brilliant like that.

Molly did as asked and took a cab to their flat. When she walked in, the first thing she noticed was the photographs taped to the mirror above the mantel. The case was still open. However, she didn't have time to dwell on it when long thin arms wrapped around her waist and a warm mouth pressed to the back of her neck. "I'm sure this is better than last time."

Molly bit her lower lip, allowing herself to give into the pleasure of Sherlock's mouth against her throat. She felt him pick her up and carry her to their bedroom. She sighed as Sherlock laid her down on her back on the bed.

Their mouths finally met properly as Sherlock hovered over her. "I thought," Molly gasped between kisses, "You were on a case."

"I am," Sherlock murmured, slowly descending towards, pressing kisses to the exposed parts of Molly's skin as he went. "I need to clear my head. There's been a second murder. Besides, I owe you for coming home yesterday and forcing you to speak with Mycroft."

As Sherlock continued his descent and tugged at the drawstring on Molly's trousers, she allowed her eyes to flutter shut. If this was how Sherlock needed to clear his head, who was she to argue?

Molly's body still hummed with pleasure as she kissed Sherlock in the sitting room. "I have to go back to work now," Molly said regretfully.

"Hm," Sherlock pulled away, looking down at Molly rather dispassionately now, a sharp contrast to how he had just been. "As do I."

Molly straightened out her clothes and grabbed her jacket as Sherlock perched himself on the back of his chair, staring at the photos on the mirror once again. He steepled his fingers beneath his chin.

"I'm off then. Good luck with the case." Molly grabbed her bag and headed to the door.

She rolled her eyes as Sherlock called after her, "Darling, could you pass me a pen?" She didn't stop on her way to the door. If he really needed it, he'd get up and get it himself eventually.

Molly tried to focus on deciding what food she was going to eat. She didn't want to focus on staring at her mobile, hoping Sherlock had texted her. It was not an odd occurrence that he would forget to text her while he was working to let her know he was still alive. It was not even an odd occurrence that he wouldn't return home for a night. When they were first married, she had stayed up all hours worrying about his wellbeing. Sherlock had assured her that as Mycroft trailed practically his every movement, if he were to be killed on a case, she would be informed of it- if only because Mycroft would try to prevent her from receiving Sherlock's estate. It had been of little comfort, but Sherlock always came home to her and was extra attentive the longer he had been away.

"What are you thinking? The pork or the pasta?" Molly gave a small start at the sound of the smooth, baritone of her husband.

"Oh, it's you!" Molly couldn't stop herself from smiling broadly. It wasn't the first time Sherlock had surprised her at work at the end of one of his cases. Despite his distaste for the food, Sherlock would eat with her and then they would find a supply cupboard to desecrate in relieved welcome.

"This place in never going to trouble Egon Ronay, is it? I'd stick with the pasta- don't want to do roast pork. Not if you're slicing up cadavers." Sherlock gave her a small, teasing smile. He knew that Molly had an iron stomach when it came to her work. He had admitted to finding it charming when- before they had married- Molly had gone through a corpse's stomach contents and began to crave the final meal of the deceased. It was a testament to their compatibility. Sherlock had no interest in a woman who would be squeamish at such a thing and Molly was sick of men who were disgusted by her occupation.

"What are you having?" Molly's smile faltered slightly. She hoped he hadn't eaten with Doctor Watson. It wouldn't have entirely surprised her. They seemed to be inseparable lately. She wanted Sherlock to remember that he had married her rather than John.

"Don't eat when I'm working. Digesting slows me down." They had been married long enough that Molly recognize the slight irritation in Sherlock's voice. He actually believed she'd forgotten this detail about him.

Molly looked down. She felt like kicking herself. "So you're working here tonight."

She felt stupid for making the error of thinking Sherlock had come to see her; that his case was finished.

"I need to examine some bodies," Sherlock said, his light blue gaze trained on Molly.

"Some?" Molly questioned, her brow furrowing slightly. She stared at Sherlock, her mouth agape.

"Eddie Van Coon and Brian Lukis."

She recognized the names. She looked down at her list. "They're on my list."

"Could you wheel them out again for me?" Sherlock was giving her that look. That look she'd seen so many times in the years she'd known him. The innocent, puppy-eyed look that could mean either 'do something horribly unethical' or 'I know you're exhausted but I want attention and probably sex'. There was probably something wrong with the look for both being the same.

It was a look that had proven most effective in the past, but Molly wasn't feeling all that generous. Sherlock didn't even have a word of apology or explanation for disappearing for a day. He just expected her to jump through hoops for him. "We-Well, the paperwork's already gone through." She tried to sound as meek as she could. She could out innocent Sherlock any day of the week and they both knew it.

Sherlock's brow furrowed as his gaze travelled up to her hairline. Molly frowned slightly as Sherlock eyed her. He lifted a gloved hand to point at her. "You've changed your hair."

"What?" Molly asked, a small laugh in her voice. Why on Earth was Sherlock changing the topic so quickly and to her hair of all things?

Sherlock continued to stare at her. "The style. It's usually parted in the middle."

Molly looked away from Sherlock, unsure how to respond to this current line of conversation. She had changed it on the recommendation of one of the nurses. "Yes, well..."

"It's good, um" Sherlock interrupted her. "Suits you better this way." He smiled.

Molly knew he was playing her. He was plying her with compliments in order to get his way. But she smiled back regardless. She was going to let him into the morgue and they both knew it. Showing him the bodies was going to help him finish his case and that would get him home faster. She turned away, continuing to smile. But that didn't mean she wasn't going to make him work for it.

Molly unzipped the body bag as Sherlock strode in along with the Detective Inspector he was working with. Molly noticed immediately that it wasn't Detective Inspector Lestrade, who she had come to know and trust with his work with Sherlock. No doubt his absence meant Sherlock had to jump through a lot more hoops than usual. Lestrade was the only one who really put up with Sherlock's seemingly mad requests.

"We're just interested in the feet." Sherlock said, his hands clasped behind his back.

Molly crinkled her nose. "The feet?"

"Yes," Sherlock whispered as he walked past Molly. He breath hit the back of her bared nape. Sherlock was an expert in covert flirtation. He turned to face her, walking backwards. "Do you mind if we have a look at them?" He smiled broadly. That smug, charming bastard.

Molly unzipped the feet. Now that Sherlock had mentioned them, she knew what he was looking for. She hadn't done the post-mortems back to back and there had been nothing suggesting they were connected, otherwise she would have connected them. On the bottom of Lukis's heel was the tattoo of a black lotus. At the sight, Sherlock got a small smile. "Now Van Coon."

Molly had a tiny anticipatory smile on her face as she revealed Van Coon's foot. She knew it was there. She loved watching her man be a genius, showing up this detective inspector. If he had the ambition he could have run all of Scotland Yard.

"Oh!" Sherlock said triumphantly as he turned to the detective inspector.

"So?" The young inspector drew out the word, unsure what to do next.

"So either these men just happened to visit the same Chinese tattoo parlour or I'm telling the truth," Sherlock said quickly, his patience for the man obviously razor thin.

It was a bit perverse how much of a turn on it was to see Sherlock run rough shot over one of London's finest. The inspector seemed completely humbled. "What do you want?"

"I want every book from Lukis's apartment. And Van Coon's," Sherlock spoke quickly.

"Their books?" The detective questioned.

"Bring them to Baker Street," Sherlock said. He waved the inspector off dismissively. "Quick as you can."

With a shake of his head, the inspector strode out of the morgue. He hadn't looked at Molly at all while he was in there and did not bother to say goodbye to her. She rolled her eyes. Lestrade was always quite nice to her. She definitely preferred him.

Sherlock hung back as Molly zipped up the body bags and pulled off her latex gloves, tossing them into the bin. He strode to her, cupping her face with hands still covered by leather gloves. He leaned in and kissed her decisively. "Your hair really does look fetching."

Molly crinkled her nose. "Don't need to butter me up. You got what you wanted."

Sherlock sighed. "I thought husbands were supposed say complimentary things about changes in their wives' appearances. "

Molly sighed. "Not when it's just to get a look at some feet."

"I did mean it," Sherlock assured her, playing with the loose hair at the base of her skull. "And you took advantage of the situation by hemming and hawing over showing me the bodies."

She shook her head, sighing once again. "So there's going to be books all over the flat."

"I'll be up all night going through them," Sherlock said. "John too. Care to join us?"

"And run the risk of John finding out you're married? Ruin your experiment?" Molly rolled her eyes, slipping her hands beneath Sherlock's coat to hug him. "Perish the thought. I've got a lot of paperwork to finish up. Gotten massively behind. I might as well finish up."

"Don't mean to kick you out of the flat," Sherlock sighed.

"Don't worry about it." Molly gave Sherlock a light smack on the rear. "Just finish up the case."

By the time Molly was finished her paperwork it was already dawn. Luckily, she had the day off of work. All she wanted to do was catch up on sleep.

The flat was in an absolute state: boxes, stacks and piles of books littered the sitting room. In the middle sat Sherlock, looking bored and frustrated, flipping through yet another book.

"Still at it?" Molly said in the midst of a yawn.

Sherlock didn't even look up from his work. "Care to help me out? John's gone off to work."

"Oh, has he found a job?" Molly leaned over Sherlock to press a kiss to his cheek. "I swear he and I exist in alternate realities. Or else we can't be in the same room without the universe imploding. He isin fact a real person, yes? Not just someone you've made up?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Molly," Sherlock sighed. "You were in the room when I met him for the first time. So do I get your help?"

"I've been transcribing notes all night," Molly replied. "I can't even see straight."

"Lives are at stake," Sherlock pointed out as Molly headed towards the bedroom.

"With your work there are always lives at stake," Molly called over her shoulder. "And unlike you, I can't run off of caffeine and nicotine patches."

"You know I miss you," Sherlock called out, closing the book he'd been looking at.

Molly came to a halt, turning back to Sherlock. "Huh?"

"Since you got your promotion. I miss you. You used to help me." Sherlock was frowning deeply. "In more than just showing me bodies."

"You have John to help you now," Molly murmured.

Sherlock rose from his chair. He brushed an errant hair out of Molly's face. "I didn't marry John."

Molly averted her gaze. "Is this like you complimenting me to get me to show you the bodies?"

"In that I am saying something entirely true in order to get what I want? Yes." Sherlock smiled down at her. "Only what I want is you."

Molly smiled back. "All right. I can last a few more hours before I fall over. But when I do finally fall over, you're going to let me do it, all right?"

Sherlock's smile grew. "Maybe by then I'll be able to fall over with you."

Sherlock had managed to keep Molly up for another four hours before she absolutely had to collapse in bed. Unfortunately, the case still wasn't anywhere near solved. Molly had decided it was time to go to bed when Sherlock started to get tetchy over his theory not working out.

She didn't know how long she had been asleep before she felt Sherlock in bed with her. He spooned her close. "We're going to the circus tonight, Molly."

Molly let out a small groan and blinked blearily. "Huh? Am I still asleep?"

"No, you're not," Sherlock replied, rolling Molly onto her back. "You've only been down for an hour. Now come on, get up and get dressed. There is a Chinese Circus in town. They're involved with the case. I've gotten three tickets. You can assure yourself that John actually does exist." Sherlock paused. "Oh right. I do need to get a fourth ticket for John's date."

With great effort, Molly forced herself to sit up. She reached up, trying to smooth down her hair. It was a tangled mess. "Sherlock, are you asking me on a double date? One that is directly involved in your case?"

"Yes, that does seem to be the situation we have ended up in. It was not my original intention. I just wanted you and John to help me with the case."

Molly tried vainly to blink the sleep from her eyes. She reached to the bedside table to grab her glasses so she could see Sherlock properly. "You are kidding."

Sherlock frowned. "Why would I do that?"

Molly flopped back down into bed. "Remember when you took me dancing? One of the waiters had murdered and robbed five of his patrons."

"Oh right." Sherlock nodded. "Our anniversary."

"I got shot at," Molly grumbled, snuggling back down into her pillow.

"And I made sure the perpetrator ran into my fist a dozen times before the Yard arrived," Sherlock replied.

"You had also neglected to tell me you'd combined our anniversary with a case." Molly shut her eyes once again. "Dating and cases do not mix. If you were any sort of friend, you'd tell John to postpone his date."

"He won't do it," Sherlock sighed. "He is determined. Beside, as he has pointed out, he is just my colleague. You're not coming, are you?"

"Considering you need me to get ready right now, I'm thinking no." Molly yawned. "I'm still behind on my paperwork. I was going to go in early and finish up before my shift starts."

"Molly..." Sherlock started, a definitive whine in his voice.

"Sherlock," Molly said firmly. "Go out to the circus with John tonight. Finish your case. But you're going to let me sleep. I have to handle scalpels for a living."

Sherlock grunted, but seemed to give up, leaning in and kissing Molly on the cheek. "Sleep well, Darling."

When Molly awoke next, she was jolted out of sleep by her husband. "Molly? Molly?"

Molly rubbed her eyes and blinked at Sherlock. He sounded absolutely panicked. "Sherlock, what's going on?"

Sherlock sighed in relief, jumping onto the bed and pulling Molly to him. He buried his face in his hair. "He didn't come back here."

"Who didn't come back here?" Molly asked.

"He must have moved quickly. One of the smugglers has kidnapped John and his date." He cradled Molly's face. "Go into work. Just... Be somewhere there is other people. I need to go rescue them."

"I'll come with you," Molly said quickly, getting out of bed to grab her clothes.

Sherlock shook his head. "No." He rose, halting her. "Just go into Barts. I'll take care of this." His eyes were wide and Molly could see the fear plain in his face. "I need to go."

"Be safe," Molly murmured.

Sherlock pulled Molly into a fierce kiss. He quickly pulled back and was out the door once again.

It was agonizing getting through the next day at work. Molly tried to focus on her paperwork. It didn't help that her computer gave up the ghost right when she was at the end of her transcriptions. She had some post-mortems scheduled and the guy who was fixing her computer wasn't going to be in for a few hours yet.

Somehow, Molly managed to get through it all. She had just finished up her last post-mortem when she saw Sherlock standing outside the morgue.

Molly couldn't stop herself. She pulled off her gloves, scrubbed off her hands and raced out the door. She threw her arms around him. "You're all right!"

"I'm always all right," Sherlock insisted. He hugged her back. "The case is closed. You're just getting off, yeah? Dinner?"

Molly beamed at him. "I just need a few. My computer's acting up. Why don't you go get us a table at Angelo's. I'll meet you there."

Sherlock nodded. "All right. I'll see you then." He gave her a quick kiss.

Molly watched Sherlock stride off down the corridor and turn the corner. She grinned like a fool as he went.

"Excuse me? You're having computer problems?"

Molly gave a small jump, turning to the new arrival. "Oh!" She frowned slightly. "I thought Peter was coming down."

"He had a family emergency. I can take care of it." The slender man held out a hand. "I'm Jim."

Molly shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Jim. I'm Molly."