A/N: Wow, so many of you wanting more, how could I refuse? Thank you, I am truly stunned and proud of all the love for this story!

If you Tumble please follow me. My Tumblr account is sherlolly. It's nothing but Sherlock coz that's the only reason I made it, to be honest. But if you wanna have Sherlock talks, I'd love to hear from you!

Damn.

Lestrade showing up could only mean one of two things. Actually, strike that. It meant two of two things. And he was in no mood to deal with either. Luckily that fit perfectly into the part he had to play today.

"Sorry, Lestrade, but I'm rather in a hurry and in danger of being late for an appointment."

"No you're not," Lestrade said smoothly. "I called Molly and told her you'd be running a bit behind schedule."

Sherlock blinked. "Why did…"

"Oh good God, what, have you not had any coffee or nicotine patches yet? Did you really think no one would find out you were taking Molly home? Or that you'd paid her a long visit, watched a movie together and bought her flowers?"

"Your little rant implies that I was attempting to do all those things in secret, Detective Inspector, which is hardly the case. I was merely surprised that you would be interested in such mundane matters."

"Mundane matters. The greatest criminal mind of the century is after you like a hound to a fox and you call it a mundane matter."

"I was referring to my… association with Molly."

"Yeah, we'll get to that bit in a minute," Lestrade said.

"What bit?"

"That bit."

"What, that bit that isn't any of your business bit?"

"Sherlock, where is Moriarty? The world in general still has mixed reviews about you, you know. Catching him would go a long way in clearing your name up more."

"Thank you, Lestrade, that hadn't occurred to me at all."

"What are you doing to solve the case?"

"Oh, the usual: drinking coffee, wearing nicotine patches, wasting valuable time arguing with a detective inspector-"

"This isn't funny, Sherlock."

Sherlock took a step closer to Lestrade, and there was a strange gleam in his eyes. "I assure you, Lestrade, that I am not joking."

"You want to know what I'm doing? Fine. I'm looking for clues. I'm coming up with theories. I'm searching for answers. And I'm taking Molly home from hospital and asking her out on a proper date. Anything else I can help you with?"

"Sherlock, you'd better not be withholding evidence…"

"I'm not. I know he's planning, he's playing a game with me. But I don't know what it is yet. When I can tell you something, I will."

"You'd better, because… hang on: did you just say you're going to ask Molly out on a date?"

"No, I said I was going to ask her out on a proper date. Do pay attention, Lestrade."

"A date. You're asking Molly out on a date. Molly Hooper."

"Is there another Molly we're both acquainted with?"

"Sherlock just what the hell are you playing at?"

"Sorry?"

"Why are you asking Molly out on a proper, or any other kind, of date? You don't date. You're married to your work, relationships are dull, that sort of thing." Lestrade's eyes narrowed. "Oh. I get it."

"Get what?"

"You sodding idiot. You're asking her out because you feel guilty, aren't you? Just a little bone you're throwing her to ease your conscience."

Sherlock gave him a dark, angry look. "My conscience? According to you and most everyone else, I don't have one! Or guilt, or any other emotion!"

"That's crap and we both know it," Lestrade snapped. "All right, maybe you do care something about her in your own twisted up way. But Sherlock, she's in love with you. Really desperately in love, sad to say. You can't just go take her out on a date and then go back to treating her like you used to. It'll hurt her in ways you can't comprehend."

Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes for a minute. When he opened them he stared at Lestrade with something that, were he any other man, Lestrade would've called sadness.

"Is that what you think of me?" he asked quietly. "Do you really think so little of me that you believe I'd ask Molly out just to make myself feel better? That even I am so stupid that I don't know it would devastate her?"

Lestrade glanced down. "No, I don't, Sherlock. But you have to agree this is madness. What on earth could've made you decide you wanted to… go on a date?"

"Let's just say that I've started to see my life in a different light since I faked my death," Sherlock said softly. "And after seeing Molly hurt, that I've come to realize that there may be room in it for things I never thought I wanted."

Lestrade shook his head in amazement. "Well, I'm happy for you, but damn, it's bloody awful that it took you 'dying' and Molly being attacked to bring it all home to you."

"Life rarely works the way we plan it, Lestrade."

Lestrade mustered a smile. "Well off you go, then. Keep me updated on the case, though!"

"Of course."

"And treat Molly properly. She's a good girl and she deserves the best."

"Yes, she does," Sherlock murmured as he moved past Lestrade. "But for some reason, she wants me…"