A/N: Thank you for the startling mass of enthusiastic reviews, also for not hating me. That's always nice, and I do hope you enjoy this chapter. The chapter is short for obvious reasons, I suggest you read it (or well short for my standards).

Goodnight Molly – SH

Molly stroked Toby's fur longer than necessary with her brows furrowed, as she looked into the direction of the kitchen cupboards. She was contemplating fetching a bottle of wine to sedate her flustered skin. However knowing that it would probably worsen the case she remained seated giving a sigh, as she stared at the phone in the palm of her hand, before settling it on the table before her.

They'd had a moment, surely, and she couldn't deny it. Neither could she pretend the way they had been during dinner didn't mean a thing.

Dinner – obviously meant something, much more deeper, than she knew. Or could it become a significant sequel of the mere accident in the dreaded dark hallways of Heaven? She had kissed a man who certainly was no angel. He was who he was, and she was who she was, and if it were to indeed be that in question - "Yes," said Molly with a giggle clapping her hand over her mouth disgruntled over her sheer stupidity.

Was he indeed interested? The idea puzzled her, following her all the way into bed, even how many time she twisted and turned on their conversation in her head, it came with the same undeniable result. Here was a man who'd barely given her a proper look, and he was openly staring at her. Not to charm her, and from where she was standing – none of those smiles given to her were false. It was a peculiar situation, and she mulled it properly over only managing to direct her mind into the most vivid re-imaginings of what had occurred when he'd hovered over her, blue eyes gleaming – staring intently on her mouth. Her imagination played the scenario quite longer with him pushing her onto the bookshelf and having his way with her. This however was brushed quickly aside, as she remembered Ben.

Wasn't she interested in Ben?

Ben who lived in Cardiff not London, and who hadn't answered her text in days – was he really more than just a promising idea? They had met twice, which gave no grounds of her properly knowing him. He was also so contrastingly different at times that it amazed her, for one he'd be cheery and the other he'd be quite dark. That had been on their first meeting and on the second time the impression of him being remotely close to this hauntingly sexy man she imagined vanished. Gone was the dark man, she fantasised about, who'd preferably ravish her, and instead it was replaced with just a good friend. If any man were to fit the mental imagery she had, it was certainly not Ben Smith, even if he looked the part. She knew quite easily who had that entitlement.

Her eyes opened wide of the sound of her mobile phone vibrating. Was it him? Had he decided to text her, since she gave no reply? Not that there was anything to reply to, but it was something charming with the idea that he of all men could be remotely desperate. She picked up the phone from the nightstand, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, as she read -

I am sorry for disappearing off. I met Emily in London with a new boyfriend. It threw me into a loop. I am so sorry. I hope we can still have contact? - B

She sat bolt upright in her bed gaping at the text. Of course, the one second she hoped for one man to text her – she received the other man's message. Wasn't it always this way? She groaned, clinging to the phone, trying to understand what he'd written. His girlfriend had obviously put him in a low place, and her heart reached out to him, until she incidentally saw the time. There it was, and she was late. She was always punctuality itself, so with hurried anxiety she sprang out of bed picking a pretty dress, despite knowing how extremely unsuited that was for work-related business. This day might turn entirely different then what she supposed it would. It was when she'd finally gotten out of the door, everything sorted, though stomach empty that her mind reeled over the endless answers she could give the man. What could she say?

I'm so sorry about that. We can be friends. I see no problem with that – M

No - she deleted that, as she rushed into a taxi. She needed her special cuppa today, ensuring that she'd manage to tackle the various tasks of texting as it were. The café was a little out of her way, of course, but what could she do? She of all people needed the immaculate piece of auburn deliciousness created by the charming George, especially today. With her phone in her hand, she skipped inside, giving a little wave of a greeting to George who immediately started making her cup at the sight of her, as he spotted her general jittery behaviour, "I'll be quick about it, love – it's good to know you're here just for coffee," he said chuckling with his back to her behind the counter.

"How's that?" she asked eyeing the half-empty café with a bit of a grin.

George turned round wagging his grey brows towards the table in the right corner. On it was what seemed to be a mixture of limbs and lips - apparently two very enthusiastic men for eight in the morning. She turned a bit red, only to have her smile drop all of a sudden, when the overwhelming sense of familiarity sprang over her. Molly turned around again, properly taking them in, as the two men had now separated – one fair headed, while the other with his dark curls and blue eyes clearly resembled –

"BEN," she half shrieked causing Ben Smith to sharply turn his head into her general direction horrified. He gaped at her, as she did him, before she hurriedly jumped on the spot, "The coffee – are you - are you – done?"

George looked at her baffled, promptly handing her the cup, as Molly took to run for it, reverting quickly to hurried steps, so as to not seem mad there she half-sprinted along the pavement managing to step on several people's toe's. He was panting behind her, but his long legs caused him to gain on her.

"Molly," he cried after her. "Molly – please – wait!"

She took to halt wheeling around to face man who was surely Ben Smith – in London, judging by the deep grooves under his eyes and unkempt hair he'd been up all night. His torn jeans and tight fitting t-shirt did not scream a banker either. He was definitively not in Cardiff, not a banker and by all accounts - "You're gay," she said pointing at him if not rather accusingly, soon bringing her shaky hand down, as people stared. She made an apologetic awkward expression, while still trying to look mad.

James had his hands in his pockets, gave a bit of a shrug, "You're quite right – I am, but technically I'm not – err – could I explain to you properly – over a cup of coffee?" He stared at her Styrofoam cup sheepishly.

"Properly? I think your tongue down that man's throat explains it, especially the fact that you're more than averagely here," she said starting to walk again, "I'm late for work – I can't – I've got to go."

"Molly – no – you've got to let me explain – I'm – I'm not Ben Smith," he said speeding up aside of her.

She finally stopped taking to glower at him mildly disgusted over the blatant lie.

"I'm sorry? You're not Ben Smith, now then? Are you his other twin then? Will he be texting me any time soon – right? Right," said Molly scathingly.

Molly was about to run off again, when James grabbed hold of her bag.

"Let go off my bag – or I'm crying for help," she snapped trying to pull it towards her, causing people to look at them.

James released her bag, putting his hands up guiltily.

"I'm not Ben Smith – Ben Smith isn't real – I'm James Black – an actor-," he blurted out.

"An actor – is this some sort of joke to you? Do you do this, then? Pretend to be straight for practise?" she said, her cheeks inflamed, as she scowled at him.

"No, Sherlock Holmes hired me," he said bluntly, causing Molly to spill some coffee on her shoe.

She yelped frowning at her flats, as he started to gesture to the café. "Just come with me – to the coffee shop, and I'll explain properly. Sorry about this, really, I am. But - I shouldn't even be the one telling you – he should – but he's a bit of a bastard really."

She hesitated blinking at him furiously, before reluctantly following him back, taking time to text Mary to hold up the fort at Bart's.

Molly looked at Ben – no – James in utter disbelief for the good 10 minutes he went on hurriedly explaining, clarifying a great deal of things, clarifying the vast similarity, and also making her want to wring Sherlock Holmes' neck.

"You're saying - you're actually saying that – that – he did all of these things, because he likes me – right?"

"Yes, I know it seems absolutely mad, but he does," he said with a bit of a grin.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just tell me?"

"You know him. He's some mad genius, right? Every single little thing he does has some great scheme, and he's more or less plotted himself in a corner, where you'll end up hating him. I do think he's fancied you for a while - he kissed you back – no man kisses someone like that back."

"Wait – you saw that?" she said blushing despite herself. "So it was you I saw at Heaven."

"Yes – which should have been a clue in the first place. He picked me who lives in London - that's quite impractical - it was as if he wanted to be found, or so I think," said James nodding.

"Right - right."

"You are going to tell him that you know?"

"Of course I am - I can only imagine his face when he finds out – I'd never miss that for the world," she said with a hollow laugh.

It wasn't before James had apologised to her profusely several times, that he let her go, and she could properly think. Besides furious she didn't know what she thought.

She was in a daze when she came to work causing Mary to ask, "What's wrong with you? Is it Sherlock or Ben or Peter? You've got many men in your life at mo, I've got to say – it's rather brilliant," she said jabbing her with a pen in her waist.

Molly snapped out of her stupor, "Sherlock is Ben," she said in an eerie voice, causing Mary to stop poking her.

Her friend was furious, eyes glaring as she went off in a massive rant about how blatantly obvious it was, and how ridiculous it was for Sherlock to be at a gay bar – "What an idiot – god – I can't believe the nerve of that man – toying with you like that-," she said in Molly's office, walking angrily around.

"According to James he fancies me-," said Molly with a small voice, her hands in her lap, as she tried to puzzle it all together. There were only two men chasing after her, and in retrospect – both idiots. "- Not that it helps much, either."

"Oh, Molly – I could tell you that. He spent the majority of dinner giving you big eyes," said Mary with her hands on her hips.

"Yes – that I noticed. He's been doing that a while, I thought it was his regular – I'm trying to work my way in again, since I threw him out a while back."

"I can't believe he did this, just because you weren't willing to co-operate."

"He's very fond of his routines, despite the fact that he's one of the most impulsive people I know of," said Molly with a sigh.

"I suggest makeup-," said Mary who stopped at Molly's desk now properly eyeing her friend's barefaced look.

"Sorry?"

"So he'll feel even worse when you finally tell him, right - since you are telling him?"

"Yes, of course I'm telling him. Knowing him he'll probably know it just by looking at me," said Molly disgruntled. "Oh – God – Mary – my love life is a mess."

"Yes, but your wardrobe isn't apparently – why are you so dressed up, then?" asked her friend eyeing her dress.

Molly made a face, "I – I dressed up, because I thought the day would turn out a bit differently. I didn't expect my one supposed flirt to be an actual actor when I woke up - employed by Sherlock. The worst part was that he was so terribly nice, if he'd been an arse – I could have brushed him off."

"That differently being – possibly the man who's turned you into a miserable mess, then?" said Mary with a wink.

"No – of course not – I – I – yes - yes, I did – a very little – perhaps a bit much actually."

"It's just, I know Molly – he sent you texts, and was entirely – nice – at dinner, oddly enough, but I can't see him properly acting up on it," said Mary biting her lip.

"We had dinner last night, actually," said Molly carefully.

"You did? What on earth happened – how did it happen?"

Molly laughed, "He asked me - just when I was about to call it a day, and we went to an Indian restaurant. After that – we – err – we went to my place, so I could show him my newspaper clippings."

Mary narrowed her eyes at her friend, "Is that innuendo? Newspaper clippings - is that something I've missed out on then?"

"No – no – nothing – nothing really happened. Well, he was very – err – close, you know, but like – we – he touched my – oh – that does sounds a bit bad – we just – he left, more or less."

"It does sound bad," said Mary with a nod.

"I just thought this would play out differently-," said Molly rather sadly.

"So did I," said Mary with a groan, "Now I've got to yell at John."

"James said he wasn't actually involved."

"He wasn't? I'm surprised – John's always involved in all of Sherlock's ideas, but I suppose he knew that John would be good enough to tell me," said Mary with a smile, before looking at her watch, "I've got to go though. You'll be fine, then, right?"

"Yes, I'll be OK. I'll work – it'll be fine."

"You're going to tell him when he shows up?"

"If he shows up," said Molly pointedly.

The moment Mary left her office; she put her mobile phone in the palm of her hand properly staring at it, before a slight devious smile crept onto her face -

It's all right, have been bothered with Peter myself. I'm going to meet him for lunch today actually. Don't know how that'll turn out though – M

Molly slammed the door behind her, pressing herself up against it, causing Mary to eye her confused, "You told him?" she asked, assuming that her friend's general behaviour was easily explained with a rash argument.

However the Molly she saw seating herself in the chair in front of the desk, taking to twirl one round with the swivel chair – was definitively not a gloomy female. "You didn't tell him?"

Molly stopped turning, finally stopping up, as she had a great beam on her face, "No," she quipped easily.

"Molly – why exactly didn't you do that?" said Mary ignoring the paper work before her.

At this Molly gave a breath, took to cross her legs, and said, "Right, I thought I was being obvious, really. I was mad, and in the end – when he stood there in front of me, I realised – he's not at all getting this. He'd taken to stare at me, but not one single thing gave away that I'd had a proper chat with James. Not even the fact that I was obviously cross."

"Well, he does make a lot of people angry on a regular basis, I suppose that sort of thing just reels off him easily, so – you're not telling him because he doesn't know – yes - explain?"

"I'm not telling him - because I want to have a little fun on my own," said Molly ending up with giggling furiously, as Mary looked at her with the same avid glee.

"You're serious – you're going to-,"

"Mess with his head a little, or possibly a lot. The fact that he's been trying to sort me out - as James so nicely put it – I feel that it's my duty, to well – do the same," said Molly taking to grin wickedly before showing the text she had sent to Ben. Mary sat gaping at the text, before looking up at her friend.

"You're having lunch with Peter – that's genius – oh – I must say I like you when you're all vengeful."

"It depends if he actually does indeed – properly – maybe - fancy me, that is. He might not, you know, this might just be some – err – thing to him. Luckily Peter isn't really hard to get a hold of these days," said Molly when Mary gave her the phone back.

"Yes, dinner and texts – well, if it comforts you – at least he's answered your texts - or texted you at all," said Mary reassuringly.

"Why do you say that?"

"John mentioned this woman – Irene Adler, who texted Sherlock frequently. He never really answered her questions about dinner."

Molly blinked at that, "Dinner?"

"Oh yes, subtext for sex! I'm surprised people aren't just asking for it these days. That's what I did with John, really," said Mary with a barely concealed grin, as Molly looked pensive.

Mary had suggested her being hot and cold – but he still managed to surprise her when he suddenly showed up as he did. The man had been keeping an eye on her. She should have been put off by it, but it was sort of appealing in a strange way.

It was when he suggested dinner however, that she felt the need to mention Ben and feign proper confusion. The man ate it up, soon looking sombre when they arrived at her flat, and when she almost got a bit ahead of herself – he delivered his very well calculated speech about her being a nuisance. The words hurt, they did indeed, and she was happy that James had delivered them to her first – in a much nicer way. Her need to pour out her knowledge fell flatly to the floor, as she thought out something much more sillier. It wouldn't be long before he knew, of course, as he was bound to get a hold of James, but she would do her best to confuse him. After all - he did indeed deserve it.

A/N: You probably get why my author's note was terribly short on the top there. I hope you are pleasantly surprised. Now one wonders what our dear heroine will do to the consulting detective? That remains to be seen in the next chapter.