A/N: Thanks again to all my readers and reviewers. I LOVE my reviews, they inspire me. This story is going to be novella length when it's finished, BTW. I appreciate everyone who is sticking with it! Things are getting busy here but I'll try to update again tomorrow.

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Molly made a faint sound that could have been panic, dismay or elation and he didn't know how to tell which it was.

Then she just sat staring at him like a statue. She didn't even blink.

"Molly?"

"I… did you just ask me out? On a... a proper DATE?"

Well at least she got it right. While in a state of shock, no less. Score one for Molly.

"Yes."

Silence.

"Molly?"

"Ah, um…" Oh, God, Molly, what are you doing? In ten seconds he's going to decide you're too much of a stammering nitwit and change his mind! Say something! Anything!

"Yes!" she shrieked.

He raised his eyebrows.

"I mean… yes, Sherlock," she said in an almost normal voice. A voice that amazingly wasn't stuttering. She looked him in the eye. "Yes. That would be lovely. Thank you. Yes is my answer."

He smiled slightly. Smirked, was more like it. "Oh, good. I was worried you'd be all vague about it."

Molly laughed: a strangled but happy laugh. He was teasing her. Sherlock Holmes was smiling and teasing and had ASKEDHEROUTONAPROPERDATE!

She made a mental note to call Bart's and tell them whatever they'd given her that morning she'd like a hundred more brought round to her flat right now that instant.

"Now that we've got that settled, is there anything you need from the market? I can go to Tesco's for you," he said.

"Oh, no, thank you. My friend Diane got all that sorted for me already. She's bringing Toby back tomorrow."

"I'm sure you've missed him," Sherlock said.

Molly smiled. "I have, yes. Luckily someone has been keeping my company, though."

He tilted his head. "Really? Who?"

"Oh, go on with you!" Molly laughed, taking her hands from his and swatting at him playfully. "I need a kip and you need to find Moriarty."

He nodded. "I'll pick you up at seven, if that's all right? You're not going back to Bart's for three more days, am I correct?"

She laughed. "You're always correct and you know it."

His face darkened a bit. "Not always. There's always something I overlook until it's too late."

Molly wanted to kick herself. She slowly reached out and took a hand in hers.

"You haven't been too late to save the people that care about you," she said softly.

He smiled faintly. "No, I haven't, have I?"

She squeezed his hand then released it. "Nope. Now, where are we going? How should I dress?"

"Fashionable but not formal. And as to where we're going: now that would be telling, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, taking me on a mystery date, are you?"

"Mysteries are my specialty, Molly."

She smiled as they stood up and walked to her door. She glanced at him shyly as she opened it. "I'm... I look forward to it, Sherlock."

He studied her for a few seconds. "So do I."

He learned down and kissed her cheek. "Text me if anything happens. Otherwise I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Yes. Tomorrow night. Until then, Sherlock."

He smiled. "Until then."

She closed the door, and he started walking, pulling out his phone to get a taxi, trying and failing to ignore the slight shaking of his hands.

He walked until he met the taxi. As he headed back to the video store and then Baker Street, he laced his fingers together and squeezed them until they hurt. It calmed the shaking, but nothing at that moment could calm his thoughts.

He'd expected Molly to have a decent singing voice. People who were rubbish at something natural didn't study it. What he hadn't expected was that, by singing, she would be transformed into someone else. A Molly who was strong and powerful, a Molly who would never stutter around him. A Molly who had a voice so beautiful that angels would surely stick their heads out of the clouds to hear her sing.

She had completely captivated him while she sang. And it scared him.

It was all supposed to be part of the plan. Part of Moriarty's game. Did he know she could sing? They'd only been on three dates, she'd said. Had she sang this way for "Jim from IT"? Had he been at all moved by her voice?

The thought made Sherlock faintly ill.

Moriarty was going to leave him alone for now. He could sense it. He was sitting somewhere laughing at how it had all played out. Just like a movie.

Sherlock found himself wishing Moriarty had been eating popcorn as he listened… and choked on it.

He was going to leave him alone with his thoughts. Make him keep all that stuff locked inside his head. Or so the bastard thought. Sherlock was thankful once again that, despite him having a mostly ordinary mind, John Watson did have the ability to figure some things out. Now he just had to figure out how to play it to John, to tell him without telling him or being too obvious.

He'd have to figure out where to take Molly (he was sure said bastard would be helpful there), how to act, how to end the date. He'd also have to figure out how to stop hearing her voice in his head.

As insane as it was, he wanted to hear her sing again.

He shook his head to clear it. He had to focus.

He couldn't be distracted right now.

Later, when he was finished with everything for the night, he'd put more thought into it.

But really, he was at a loss as to whether it would do any good.