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John wasn't in when he got back: probably at the drugstore getting medicine for his stomach. Sherlock sat at his laptop and started playing Jerry Maguire. He'd just gotten to the part where Jerry and Dorothy got married, and was on his third dark chocolate bar, when John came bustling in with a bag.

"Ah, you're home," John greeted. "How's Molly?"

"Glad to be home," Sherlock said, pausing the movie. "Did you know Molly can play piano?"

John sat the bag-and himself-down in a chair. "No. Had no idea. Is she any good?"

"She's exceptional. And she sings exceptionally well, too."

"Huh," John said, not sure what else to say.

Sherlock turned to fully face him. "Listen... John… there's something I want to tell you."

"Is it about Moriarty? Have you found something?"

"Not yet, though I think I'm on the right track. No, this is about Molly."

John shook his head. "I have to tell you, Sherlock, you've been very strange. Normally you'd be out hunting clues-"

"I am hunting clues," Sherlock snapped. "Just not in a way you're accustomed to."

"If you say so. If I didn't know better, I'd swear Moriarty was sending you love notes."

Is he? John's eyes asked.

Sherlock shook his head. "No, he's not sending me love notes, don't be ridiculous. To send love notes, you have to be capable of love."

"You're becoming an expert on that it seems. Love, I mean."

"Yes, well… I have my reasons."

John sighed. "Ok, sorry, you were saying something about Molly?"

"Yes. I'm taking her out tomorrow night."

Sherlock sat back and waited.

He guessed he'd wait four seconds.

He only got to two and John said: "sorry, you what? Did you just say you're going out? With Molly? Like, what, like, on a DATE, you mean?"

"Yes, on a date I mean. Good Lord, I should just hold up a little card for the entire world to read and get it over with," Sherlock groaned.

"You're going… you're going on… Sherlock, JIM MORIARTY IS OUT THERE SOMEWHERE AND YOU'RE GOING ON A DATE?"

"So glad you approve."

"I-no, no, I don't approve, not one bloody bit. What the HELL is wrong with you? Moriarty aside for a minute, Molly is in love with you, why on earth would you go on a date with her!"

"Well she has skipped some steps, but I'm not going to hold it against her," Sherlock said mildly, and John jumped up and started to pace. "I'm going on a date with her because… it's what I want to do, all right? It's not like someone is twisting my arm or anything."

Their eyes locked.

IS he? John's look asked.

Yes, Sherlock's answered.

John laughed. "This is insane, Sherlock. You, of all people, going on a date. WHY are you? Why Molly? Why now?"

"It's just time," Sherlock said softly. "Time I stopped pretending I don't have feelings. Time for there to be more in my life than severed heads and sarcasm. And Molly… I care for her, John. Even you must have noticed that."

John rubbed his chin, for once ignoring the unintentional jibe. "I might have done… but I dismissed it. I mean, come on. You? Feelings? How could that happen?"

"You know I have feelings," Sherlock said.

"Yeah, but… for Molly? Fuzzy lumpkin feelings?"

"Fuzzy what?"

"Never mind," John said hastily. Ah. Old nickname from a teenage sweetheart.

"Romance, Sherlock? Hearts and flowers and sex and giggling? From you?"

"There's been no sex, thank you very much. I said I was taking her out on a date, not treating her like my personal whore. No giggling, either. Well, none from me."

"But why Molly?"

"Oh, hell, are you listening to me? I care for her, John! WHY is that so hard to understand?"

"Because you are Sherlock Holmes who thinks feelings are rubbish!"

"Used to think it," Sherlock corrected him. "Now… I'm not sure."

John stared. Sherlock nodded.

"Do you love her?"

"No. But… I smile with her, John. Real smiles. I like just being with her. She sang for me, John. And after that, she didn't stutter. Well, nowhere near as much as usual."

"But she loves you, Sherlock. If this is just, I dunno, some experiment, you'll end up hurting her."

"Believe me, I have no desire to see Molly get hurt," Sherlock said, a warning gleam in his eyes. "I couldn't stand it if anyone hurt her. I'd do anything to not let that happen."

John gave a tiny nod. "I trust you. This is just…"

"It seems insane, I know," Sherlock said. "But believe me, John: I know what I'm doing."

John exhaled loudly. "Well. This explains a lot, actually. With the movies and chocolate and all. You've been doing research because of Molly, not to find Moriarty."

"I'm working on that too. Trust me. He may not be finished with her."

"He's definitely not finished with you. And he hasn't killed anyone yet, so he's plotting. Even I can deduce that."

"Good work, Sherlock," Sherlock said wryly, and John burst out laughing.

"Well, this is all lunacy, but I know how you are when your mind is made up. So just let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

"Like teach me how to behave on a date?"

John smirked. "I'm a doctor, Sherlock. Not a miracle worker."

"If you say so. Now let me finish this movie and we can have dinner."

"Oh, ah, well…"

"Still not ready for solid food?"

"No," John said with a grimace. "In fact…" he rushed off.

Sherlock sighed. John got it. Well, a bit. But he'd understood enough. Sherlock decided to figure out his next steps after the movie. He hit the PLAY button. "Well. Let's just see what happens to these two ridiculous people, shall we?"