A/N: Chapter 20, and look! It's long! And exciting, I hope. Thank you for reading and please keep reviewing. It may be Saturday before I post more, don't be mad, please! LOL

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Hours later, Sherlock lay in bed, doing what he did best and almost hating it.

The movies had been predictable. Even though he had to admit there had been a few bits that made him laugh. Just a bit. And scoff. If that was truly how love was, how on earth did ordinary people manage to get anything done?

Under the pretext of writing out good lines to use, and wanting John to inspect them, he'd managed to give John a coded message that gave his friend a rough idea of what was happening. Not the whole story: just some bits. Technically he hadn't told anyone about the game. He'd made sure he didn't do that. But John now knew there was a method to his madness. He was playing it out extraordinarily well, which was good. The last thing Sherlock wanted was for Moriarty to know someone knew anything at all and create a boom.

Tomorrow morning Moriarty would call. He'd have instructions. And Sherlock would have questions. For now he was turning everything over in his head.

He'd figured out what Moriarty had meant by "right track, wrong train." He wasn't going to kill them. Then what, exactly, was his plan? How long did he think Sherlock could go on pretending to like Molly? All their lives? What was his plan?

Thinking of Molly brought back memories of her flat and her singing. All right, be honest: it had stirred some genuine… something in him. But that was all rubbish. He couldn't allow himself the handicap of love. Even if Molly did have more than met the eye. He'd never been in love in his life and he wasn't about to start now. Absolutely not.

Good. It was settled.

He pushed the memory of her voice out of his thoughts.

When he slept, however, it was another matter entirely.

Sherlock awoke the next morning to the sound of his phone ringing.

"Rise and shine, Sherlock!" Moriarty's voice rang out. "Tonight's the big night!"

"I am well aware of that," Sherlock said, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

"Yeah, I bet you are, you sly dog." He could almost feel the glee in the man's voice. It made Sherlock want to punch something. Like Moriarty's face.

"So. Tell me all about my date with Molly. I'm sure you've got it all planned, don't you?"

"Darlin', I planned this weeks ago," Moriarty purred.

"I bet you did, you sly dog," Sherlock said with false sweetness.

Moriarty chuckled. "I know this is your first date. Are you nervous?"

"Only because I don't know what you're got planned."

"For the date or in general?"

"Both, obviously."

"Patience, fuzzy lumpkin," Moriarty said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I must say, I don't know how you think I can pull this off."

"You're an actor. I've seen it. Just pretend you're trying out for a part in a movie."

"Which movie would that be: Sherlock Maguire or Molly Hooper's Diary?"

"Ooh, someone needs some coffee," Moriarty smirked. "You're not very sweet when you first wake up, are you? Poor Molly. I hope that won't be too rough on her."

Sherlock's restless fidgeting stilled as an icy chill shot through him. "If you think I am having sex with Molly tonight, you are very much mistaken."

"Of course I don't," Moriarty said indignantly. "Don't be dull."

"Good."

"Not on the first date. That would ruin everything."

"Not on any date," Sherlock said through clenched teeth.

"Ding, dong! Hello? Bomb squad? Oh, sorry, too late!"

"Stop this!" Sherlock hissed.

"No. You stop it, Sherlock. You'll do what I say, when I say. Or… BOOM!"

"You are without question the most insane, sadistic person I've ever had the misfortune to meet!"

"You forgot brilliant," Moriarty said calmly.

Sherlock hissed again. After a few seconds he sighed. "Why are you doing this? What do you possibly have to gain out of forcing me into a fake romantic relationship with Molly?"

"Oh, honey, let me count the ways! No, forget that. It's your job to figure it out, since you're so clever."

"Not clever enough to know where to take Molly on this date," Sherlock said morosely.

"That's easy. A proper date, remember? Dinner and dancing."

"Dinner and… what?"

"Are you deaf, or did I stutter?" Moriarty said coldly.

"Dancing?" Sherlock wasn't sure which thought was the most absurd: him dancing, or Molly.

"You can dance, can't you?"

"Of course I can," Sherlock snapped. Goodness knows he'd endured enough lessons as a child to remember the basics. He'd never deleted that from his hard drive. Perhaps because it had meant so much to his mother…

"Good. Tonight is 80's night at Club Aquarium. Molly loooooves 80's music. She'll be blown away that you knew."

"You mean that in a good way, I hope," Sherlock said archly.

"I told you. Play the game and no one gets blown up. Including Molly."

"Fine. What about dinner?"

"Princess of Shoreditch."

"A restaurant with the word princess in the name. Lovely."

"Molly will think so. And I already told you. She's what counts in this relationship."

"A good venue, I trust?"

"Consistent four-star rating. Not too far from the club, either. See how nicely I planned it out for you?"

"Oh, yes. How can I ever repay you."

"We'll figure something out, Sherlock."

"I'm sure we will."

"Dress nice for her. You're trying to win the girl, you know."

"I don't have to win her, I already won her months ago," Sherlock said. "I just… didn't accept the prize."

"Well now you are. And that doesn't mean you can be slack. That's why women stray, you know."

"If we were actually in a relationship, Molly wouldn't leave me," Sherlock said dismissively.

"Don't be so sure."

"Fine, I will look nice for her. Not that I was planning on doing otherwise."

"Oh?"

"It's bad enough you're forcing me to do all this. I don't have to make Molly suffer in the process."

"Oh, how sweet. Gosh, Toto, does the Tin Man have a heart after all?" Moriarty asked with fake breathlessness.

"You said I do. And that you were going to burn it out of me."

"And I did. But we both came back for more. Why do you think that is, Sherlock?"

"Because… neither of us wanted to die?"

"For the game, Sherlock. It's always for the game. You love to play. Go on, admit it."

"The only thing I will admit to you is that I've love to wrap my hands around your throat and squeeze," Sherlock said venomously.

"Mmm. Save all that fire for Molly."

"What is this? What is it all for?"

"I told you. I want you to experience love."

"It's not real. It won't be real. So why make me…"

Oh.

"You don't want to make me pretend to fall in love with Molly," Sherlock said dully. "You want to make me fall in love with her."

"No more calls, we have a winner!"

"It won't happen and you know it."

"Care to bet some lives on that?"

"You can force me to go out with her, but you can't force love. Not for me, not for anyone."

"How would you know?" Moriarty asked softly. "What do you know about love except making a big show of how it's a weakness and too ordinary for the great Sherlock Holmes?"

"Is that your game? You want to force me to admit that I'm capable of love?"

"No. I want to force you to admit that you are in love. When it happens."

"It won't."

"I think you're wro-ong," Moriarty sang.

"It won't," Sherlock insisted.

"OK, it won't. You're right. Shall I just kill all these people now, then? Would you like to say bye to John and Mrs. Hudson before I blow you all up?"

"NO!" Sherlock shouted.

"Calm down, sweetie pie, you're going to wake John up. And he's having such a rough go as it is. All those stomach problems…"

"What are you doing to John!" Sherlock demanded. "So help me, if you're poisoning him…"

"Relax. I'm not going to hurt or kill John. Yet."

Sherlock felt as though he was caught in a web and staring at a hungry spider. He fought down the shaking in his hands. "If I do what you ask, when you ask…"

"No one gets hurt, Sherlock. Just the opposite, in fact. Everyone will be happy. Molly, John, Mrs. Hudson… even you."

Sherlock sighed in defeat.

"Why are you fighting it so hard? You might like being in love."

"Even if me falling in love was possible, I. Sincerely. Doubt. It."

"It's not your choice to make, so it doesn't really matter, I suppose. Anyway, back to the date."

Sherlock took a deep breath. Everyone was safe… for now. All he had to do was let Moriarty think he was right while he tracked him down. "Go on."

"Be nice. As much as you can. Pay attention to her, compliment her: you know, all the things ordinary men do."

"Of course."

"At the club, when the right song comes on, ask her to dance."

"How will I know what the right song is?"

"Good grief, you are a babe in the woods, aren't you? Didn't I just say pay attention to her? You'll know when to ask by the way she reacts."

"Right."

"Dance a few more songs with her during the night. When you take her home, tell her you enjoyed it. Ask her out again for the next night. Tell her you know a lovely place for an evening picnic. Kiss her good night. A solid kiss but not too intense. You have to build it up a bit, make it seem real."

"You don't ask for much, do you?"

"No. Oh, one last thing: today watch the movie How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days. Off you go, then. I can't wait for seven o'clock!"

The line went dead.

Sherlock checked the time. Long enough to attempt to get a trace on the area. Good. He'd do that as soon as he felt like getting up. Meantime, he did what he'd wanted to do for the past two days.

He threw the phone on the floor and pulled the covers over his head.