A/N: Thank you for your reviews and guesses - it was fun to see! I thought I was blatantly obvious, but then again I'm the one writing it. I hope you like this chapter, it was most fun for me to write, at least!

It was Friday, the anticipation was unsettling, John had been constantly bringing up his watch, as he sat in the quiet that was 221b Baker Street, for Sherlock had gone off God knew where to meet Molly for their date. Now, it was certain the man would receive a blow to the cheek, possibly a drink on the front, or most likely several threats that would lead him into a cell. John looked up from his paper, the words unreadable now, as he heard the familiar sounds of the door opening downstairs. Sherlock's long leaps up the steps did not sound that of an aggravated man, quite the opposite, which caused John to drop his paper and inch or two, before giving it up as a bad job when his friend appeared looking particular pleased with himself. He hung off his coat and scarf, as John tried to see any trace of a man who'd been told off. However, many commonly disliked Sherlock, so that sort of thing would probably peel off, even if Molly were to create a scene.

"It went well, then?" John asked gingerly, when Sherlock seemed to be more preoccupied with setting up his little lab in the kitchen.

"Very," Sherlock replied with a grin that unsettled him, this man seemed to have a plan on his hands, and considering the plan that had set this into motion – John knew that it bode bad news.

"She's not - mad, then?" he asked not knowing whether to be relieved or not, hoping that indeed his friend was in the clear, and they could all forget the sordid business. Sherlock had been caught up in the act and John had been wrongly assuming that he – had some sort of flimsy affection for her, the fact that the man did not reply made him nervous, however he kept on trying to read the paper. It was then he received the familiar bell of his phone having received a text, he cringed in his seat – well aware that this might be Mary telling him off, or possibly sending him a text with "Wanker", but he knew her well enough that she wouldn't hesitate to take the confrontation face to face. He looked at the text, expecting the worst, only finding himself rather dumbfounded. He took to mouth the words, frowning at the screen, trying to understand -

Ben is apparently as lovely as he is in text. Very handsome too. See, I told you!

He took a bit of a breather, folding his newspaper quietly to his side, as he tried to piece it all together.

"Sherlock," he started, as his friend was blatantly ignoring him taking to attend to his miniature lab in the kitchen.

Sherlock just made a throaty sound in assent, "Why is Mary texting me about Ben?" he said with a tiny laugh, but there was no reply. "Since that makes it sound like he – well – exists, and we both know he doesn't," he said tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair, before turning entirely round to glare at his friend, "So how did you do it then?" he said with gritted teeth.

"I didn't dress up if that's what you think – well - I did, but I kept a distance-," said Sherlock with a smirk.

John gaped at him.

"You didn't -," started John looking more furious by the second.

"Did what John?" said Sherlock with an innocent expression.

John took an intake of breath, putting on a less agonized countenance, "Sherlock – that man – that man who was here, a while back, that reporter – he wasn't a reporter, was he?"

"That was James," said Sherlock as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"James who, then?" asked John who couldn't contain his anger.

"James Black," added Sherlock looking particular cross at John's questionings.

"Sherlock," said John with his teeth on the edge, "I can't believe you've – you've – I don't – that's it - I'm calling Mary-," John blurted out standing up from his seat hurriedly, understanding that the phone was in his hand, before pressing the keys with force and holding it to his ear.

Sherlock came out from the kitchen holding up a hand, "You haven't heard what I have intended to do yet," he said rather calmly, as John could hear the dialling tone.

John grimaced in turn, "Sherlock, there's honestly nothing you can say. You've hired – someone to bloody seduce Molly I suppose? Are you paying him then, he's getting wages for this – shit – even for you – it's - Molly doesn't deserve that," he said still not hanging up.

"Of course not," said Sherlock clearly affronted by those words, "He's merely going to be a very bad man, as he's an actor – he's well-equipped for this sort of situation."

John narrowed his eyes; "I don't think this sort of situation happens regularly Sherlock. He's an actor – is that supposed to comfort me?" he said heatedly looking livid, as the phone was still pressed to his ear.

"He is not going to seduce her, if that is what you're worried about. He's merrily going to lessen her feelings for Ben," said Sherlock, as if it were a relief.

The two men looked at each other for a moment, Sherlock quietly gesturing to the phone, as John hung up before he'd gotten an answer from his girlfriend. He took a sharp intake of breath, "So you want her to hate him?" he asked incredulous.

"Yes, she is too preoccupied - even for her," said Sherlock with a frown.

"Preoccupied?" said John with a grin on his face, "She's - distracted - I thought you didn't mind her being distracted-," Sherlock raised his brows. "She's always been – well – side-tracked," said John considering how affected Molly was when Sherlock was around.

"Yes, distracted - to the verge of her sitting with a corpse decked out on the table, when her work was finished a good half hour ago, because she's too busy – texting. She's a 34-year-old woman who's supposed to be doing her job, not wasting her time swooning," he snapped.

"In comparison to the 38 year-old-man who texts her back?" said John snorting, "What she does on her own time affects only her. She's still doing her job," he added still holding the phone up threateningly.

"Not as efficiently," spat Sherlock looking rather severe, as if a lovesick woman was frankly too upsetting for him to take. "I can't come into Bart's if she's going to be like this."

"Ah," said John with a grin, seating himself in his chair, giving up the project of the call entirely, as he was properly contended with looking at his gobsmacked friend.

"What?" said Sherlock startled, who obviously didn't understand his friend's sudden smugness.

"You're jealous," remarked John.

"Jealous? I am not - jealous," he snarled. "Certainly not envious over a fictional man – who consequently is created by me. No, John - texting with Molly hasn't changed my feelings whatsoever about her. It has made me particular aware that she's extremely silly, and has a tendency to make crude jokes. Yes, she is certainly different, but so am I compared to that nice man she wants. However you've been right - this cannot continue, and it'll end quite soon today."

John just gave a sigh, "Right - you can pretend that there's nothing going on - I'll let you, but now I certainly won't help you if anything goes wrong this time," he said directing his attention to his paper once more. Sherlock scoffed, before returning to the kitchen.

"I certainly won't be needing your help, John. This will blow over, and everything will go back to normal," he said confidently from the confines of the kitchen.

John just shook his head behind the paper, "So – are they still on a date, then?" he asked gingerly. Sherlock just made a guttural sound, causing John to laugh.

"They are – funny – you'd think this James character – an actor would be quicker about it - at least he's not a reporter -," said John pursing his lips thoughtfully.

"Of course. If James was a reporter John he'd have been inclined to stop you, as you are undeniably the author of your blog," said Sherlock, "Even if I am the subject."

John rolled his eyes, "You trust him, then?"

"Yes, he's done me several favours, and owes me a rather large one in particular," said Sherlock content.

"Yes, he did have a certain resemblance to-," started John, before stopping short mid-sentence. "This could go very wrong, you know."

"Why?" asked Sherlock who'd been going it over in his head so many times that he was assured the outcome.

"Well – what if he – starts fancying Molly-," suggested John.

Sherlock looked at John as if he'd eaten bile.

"Molly is certainly not his area," said Sherlock without hesitation.

John mouthed "oh", raising his brows.

"So, you've planned this perfectly then?" he asked.

"Yes," stated Sherlock fiddling with his microscope, staring on some of the odd samples he had lying about.

"You've just forgotten one thing though," said John with a mischievous smile, tossing the paper aside, as he walked out of his chair.

Sherlock looked up from his microscope, drawing his brows together, "Yes, John – educate me," he said sounding particularly bored.

"You have forgotten that Molly likes bastards," said John with a knowing look, raising his brows suggestively, before he disappeared off upstairs.

John's statement did plague Sherlock quite, making him contemplate if staying at the cafe would have been a much better idea, but he didn't feel inclined to linger. Molly was proper putty in James' hands, as she gave the reaction he'd expected from her – nervous fondling of the hair, awkward smiles, and eyes averting his face. James was sitting with a duplicate of the nokia in his hands as proof of him being "Ben", that and some few lines that he'd been given beforehand. A horrible first was enough to quell the interest, and Molly would encounter the situation without her heart being broken, but regular disappointment, which was how Sherlock was used to see her.

Then he received a text from James -

She wants to go and eat. Should I take her to eat? – J

No. Make an excuse – SH

Minutes later -

Too late - J

Sherlock's eyebrows rose –

I suggest being a bit assertive - SH

Ten minutes later Sherlock received a phone-call, "Err-," stuttered the man on the phone, who was clearly hiding in the men's lavatory.

"What?" barked Sherlock on the phone.

"I think you might have been giving me the wrong tactic, Sherlock. She's certainly not backing down," said James sounding genuinely worried on the phone.

"Not backing down?" asked Sherlock who despite himself was amused. He dropped the smile as fast as he got it. "Cut it short then."

"Ok, I'll do that. She seems really nice though, odd, this business, don't you think? I'm here pretending to be – well – you, aren't I?" which caused Sherlock to hang up on him.

He had thought the texting would stop, as he expected that Molly would be entirely nauseated by the creature before her. The exact opposite happened however.

It was lovely to meet you. You are very much what I expected, which was odd. Nice but odd – M

You were exactly what I had thought too – B

Really? I thought you were a bit caught off guard. I suppose I can be a bit upfront at times – M

James had never been a particularly good actor, non-scripted moments weren't his forte, but it was particularly nerve-wracking for him to be startled by - Molly of all people.

Another thing I like with you - B

Sherlock was just glad that he'd get a detailed mail from James about the event, which would apparently have to extend into one more date. After having given this information to John, who just ignored him seated by his own laptop, Sherlock opened his mail, and John said, "You could just stop answering her texts. Pretend that he doesn't like her."

"We'd just begin with what we already had John. I'd rather not go back to Molly being unreasonable at work."

"Yes, you'd rather go back to her fancying you, right?" asked John with a brief smile, causing Sherlock to sneer at him by his laptop.

"No, John," snapped Sherlock, direction his attention to his email. "Having her properly dislike Ben would be beneficial. Not answering her texts would make her assume there was something wrong with her."

John didn't say anything at this; Sherlock was relieved over the silence, and ready to start reading -

"She never made you coffee, you know," said John causing Sherlock to look up from the laptop.

"I'm sorry?" he said disbelieving these words.

"Took some from the cafeteria apparently," he said with a smile.

"I think I'd notice that," said Sherlock doubt etched on his features.

"Really?" said John biting his lip "Must have slipped your mind then - like the address."

Sherlock just scowled in return at his friend, sighing loudly, before finally reading his email.

To Sherlock Holmes

From James Black

I've got a feeling you're terribly wrong about Mol, Sherlock. (Sherlock wavered before continuing to read) You were right about the start being a bit - awkward, and I was playing her off as a right arrogant git. I've got a feeling she likes that though (wonder why), as it weirdly enough got her to relax around me. It certainly didn't help being hands-on, as you said – especially not at the restaurant, where the proximity was unnerving.

I phoned you at that point, cutting it short (luckily) excusing myself with work, but soon enough I found myself agreeing to another date despite myself. I suggest you don't answer her text and let the thing die out. I am up for meeting her tomorrow, of course, but I won't go any further with her. She's very nice and pretty you know. Not the sort of person anyone wants to lie to, so I sort of hope this ends here.

To James Black

From Sherlock Holmes

Meet her tomorrow. I'll text you the details.

"Problem?" asked John listening to Sherlock mutter under his breath.

Sherlock just stilled, "No."

"Good - your girlfriend is texting - you should answer," said John mock-seriously, before pointing at the phone.

Sherlock plucked it up with scorn,

I'm going out tonight. Join me if you want? I'm out with my friend Mary. We're going to be at a place called Heaven – M

I'll see if I can make it - B

Sherlock shut his laptop, pocketed the phone, and soon shrugged on his coat. "Where you going?" asked John not looking up, as he typed rather slowly on his laptop.

"Research, John – research," he quipped easily pulling on his scarf, before disappearing off again.

I hope you do. I'll be the one with the red dress - M

Molly and Mary eyed each other, staring at the massive amounts of vodka shots on the table "You know this is probably the worst idea you've ever had," said Molly nervously blinking at the tiny glasses on their table, which were looked upon nervously by the various men dancing about them. They were in the club known as Heaven, which was well stocked more than usual with a heavy load of men. It was the perfect place to not be disturbed, and have a proper girl's night out, fitting to be called Heaven also.

"I think you getting pissed during dinner – was worse," said Mary cheekily, "It's good this isn't red wine, then, so I can suggest truth or drink."

Molly looked sceptically at Mary, "You can't be serious. We shared a bottle of wine at my flat, I'm already gone as it is, and you expect us to guzzle down every single one of these in rapid speed? If you want my head in your toilet, then yes."

"John's picking us up, so your head in my toilet is an agreement now, promise?" Molly laughed. "I recall your Mr Smith has not texted you since last, considering how much you've been bringing up your phone I think we need a proper distraction, which is why I paid for these," she said gesturing to the sight before them.

"You've got John on standby, then?" asked Molly attentively.

Mary brought up her phone cheerily; jerking her head at Molly's camera phone, causing Molly to hide it away in her handbag.

"So -," started Mary with a smirk, "I've been thinking about various questions, and I've concluded that there's one thing that's haunting me-,"

"Haunting you? That's a weird choice of words-," said Molly with a great deal of mirth.

"Bothering me, then – it's a bit silly really. I'm just – you know - you were describing Ben - does he resemble someone to you?" said Mary waving her hand idly, before looking at Molly apprehensively.

"Who?" asked Molly clearly confounded.

"Oh – oh – you don't see it, then? Well, I haven't seen him, but it's just – tall – dark curly hair, blue eyed, pale, and well – dresses well-," ranted Mary gesturing wildly with her hands.

"Sounds lovely," said a man who passed them. Both of the women giggled soundly, quieting down again – Mary looking much more serious now.

"Yes, we've agreed that it's a rather gorgeous man you've described, yes - a very handsome man, no doubt – I'm just – Molly – you are getting what I'm trying to say?" asked Mary looking at Molly expectantly.

Molly's brows knitted, before she took a shot. It burned in her throat causing her to hurriedly drink the glass of water - thankfully at her disposal. "That's going to take some getting used to," she yelped clutching her chest.

"Right – so you get me-," asked Mary tapping her fingers on the table erratically.

"I drank Mary - I drank – could I ask a question this time, then?" Mary gave a guilty nod, "Err – oh – how – how - is John in bed?" said Molly grimacing at the question, at which Mary took a shot instead of answering.

"I'm sorry, but we're not even talking about that," Mary said coughing soundly.

"I didn't have any other better questions," said Molly apologetically shaking of laughter.

"I know, this is going to be rubbish, isn't it?" said Mary light-heartedly, before turning quite serious again, "So are you still in love with Sherlock, then?"

"Oh - I thought you were – all happy for me, since I've found Ben and now you're asking about Sherlock - of all people?" asked Molly rather upset, her laughter all gone.

"Yes, well a woman is entitled to change her mind, don't you think?" said Mary wide-eyed.

Molly looked aghast, "Drink!" she cried out, pouring it down her throat, face contorting, as Mary laughed darkly.

"You're trying to get me pissed Doctor Morstan?" asked Molly as Mary continued to laugh.

Mary took a shot, "That wasn't a question," Molly cried out mock-outraged.

"Too late – so – have you ever seen Sherlock naked?" asked Mary, who obviously was not going to let the subject rest.

"No," said Molly startled. "Is this the point when you tell me you want to?"

Mary started to soundlessly laugh at this, her whole body shaking at the prospect, as Molly shook her head, trying to think of another question. "Fine, so – err – my turn – god, I hate this-," started Molly, staring out in the crowd grasping for clues, until her eyes widened slightly, "I think – is it?"

Her face was alight, brown eyes beaming, "Ben's here," she said a bit too delighted, blaming it on the vodka.

Mary turned around scanning the area, "I can't see him-," she said squinting at the dancing crowd, but Molly sprang out of her seat in hot pursuit of her Mr Smith.

It was easy to enter her flat; her cat did however spring forward and claw at his ankles, clearly knowing an intruder when seeing one. Sherlock eyed the surrounding areas, taking in the spotless white surfaces, the lack of frills and pinkness he thought her home would be overwrought, and wondered why on Earth she dressed so silly when her flat was a blend of classic and modern. It was very white, combined with soft-coloured grey, beige and various orchids peppering the windowsills with their vibrant colours. The cat Toby ended up licking his paw, giving up the idea of attacking Sherlock, before seating himself on the creamy sofa.

Sherlock spotted the two wine glasses, and bottle of wine, both glasses with lipstick stains on the edges – "Mary," he muttered, before taking in the label of the wine "Expensive." Peaking into the fridge he saw fresh organic foods in stock, eyed the exclusive looking coffee maker, and mused over why he'd never gone there before – well, it never came up.

He had no reason to invite himself into her home, which was by all means quite different – especially her bookshelf which was decked out with medical books and much more well-kept books than the one ragged copy he had once spotted in her bag. Had she changed and he just didn't notice? He saw the torn-up edition of Pride and Prejudice, picked it up and read the inscription from her father, "Sentiment - of course," he said, before putting it back.

"Idiot," he muttered to himself, before he wandered into her bedroom, opening the wardrobe – there was the Molly he knew; the various layers of frilly un-fitting clothing, but he couldn't ignore the fine clothes that were jammed between. The sort of clothes she apparently did not bring into Bart's. He knew of her background to a certain extent, she didn't come from a rich family, as far as he knew, but then again – here he was being baffled - by the pathologist he kept toying around with for years.

He opened the drawers to her cabinet, now unsurprised to find the most salacious looking undergarments tucked inside, but making him ponder why he never took note of this at Bart's. "Not work-related I suppose," he said with knitted brows, before dropping a black pair of lacy knickers dangling on his fingertip back into the drawer.

He had sent James into the fire apparently, as the lamb turned out to be a lioness. Sherlock smirked, she'd always been so very timid around him, but then he supposed – maybe it was just he who had that effect on her. He closed the drawer with a hurry, shaking the smile off his face, before intending to leave – except the drawer didn't shut properly. He turned around about to slam it closed, when he found himself pulling out the familiar object that blocked it from closing.

An object that was once his, frequently at use, and had gotten lost a while back one Christmas – the very same Christmas he'd accidentally offended Molly.

"Oh," he said in amusement holding the riding crop in his hand.

A/N: The bar Heaven actually exists, don't know if it does now though, but it did back in 2008. Now, you also know why Ben's name is Ben Smith. Borrowed from my two favourite men these days, two amazing actors. No surprise as to who they are or who they play, I suppose!