A/N: Thanks to all who read, review and favorite! Next chapter will be up Friday.

S&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS&MS

John wasn't home yet, but Sherlock knew he would be before too much longer. John wasn't one to have sex on a first date. He was probably sitting in a flat with this Mary, finishing his tea and laughing at some silly story she was telling him.

He frowned as he removed his coat and scarf. Hadn't he just done something similar with Molly? Well that was different. He was a hostage to romance. John had no such excuse. He just wanted to find a nice woman, fall in love and get married.

Sherlock's eyes widened. Good grief, how long was Moriarty expecting him to keep up this ruse? Was this meant to culminate with Moriarty wanting to be best man at their wedding? No. Surely not. He'd eventually get bored of making Sherlock be with her. But if he was so sure Sherlock could, and would, fall for Molly, what was the outcome meant to be? That he'd have to confess it all to Moriarty, that he'd been right? Or was he going to be forced to tell Molly everything?

He sighed, curling up on the sofa. As with Moriarty's other games, he probably wouldn't know until it was almost too late. If only he knew how things had ended (other than probably badly) with whomever Moriarty had loved, it could offer him a clue. But Moriarty wouldn't give him anything else about that, he knew it.

For that instant tonight, Moriarty had seemed almost… human. Just an angry man who almost seemed to miss what he'd once felt. A scary thought, that.

Sherlock's thoughts moved back to Molly. He would be lying if he said the night hadn't frayed him somewhat. Having to put that much effort into acting reasonably normal for an evening had depleted him. Yet there had been moments when his words and actions had been effortless. It had been good to see a Molly who wasn't afraid to talk to him anymore: a Molly who was simply herself. In a world full of posturing, manipulation and ruthless ambition, Molly was the calm waters after the storm. And he'd also be lying if he said that had no appeal.

His mouth quirked up in a smile as he remembered the incident with Kitty Riley. Molly was certainly showing more of what she was made of. Apparently it was just her feelings for him that had made her nervous and stammer around him: the state of limbo she'd floated in with him for the better part of two years. Once he had declared intent and taken her out, the resulting shift had stopped her stammer. The hope that had sprung eternal had been filled.

Odd? Perhaps. But as he'd learned over the past six months, there was more to Molly than met the eye. He didn't mind having the knowledge as such: never knew when things could come in handy. No, it was the method by which he'd acquired it that he loathed. But loathing wasn't going to stop Moriarty. He was.

He was in the middle of making plans for his investigation the next day and his upcoming date with Molly when he heard John walking to the door.

"It's open," he called.

John came in, rubbing at his arms absentmindedly as he closed and locked the door. "Gah. Got a bit chilly at the end. Glad we didn't have too much walking to do."

"Mmm," Sherlock said, fingers steepled on his chest.

John sat in a chair across from the sofa. "Well. You obviously survived your first date," he commented with a smile.

Sherlock glanced at him briefly. "You really like this one. This Mary."

"You remembered her name."

Sherlock shrugged. "This one seemed worth the effort."

"Yeah," John said, smiling. "She is."

Sherlock glanced at him more carefully. "You're already smitten."

"What? Well, I don't know…"

"Oh, yes, you do. You kissed two: no, three times. And I don't mean pecks on the cheek."

"How did you know… oh, never mind."

"The color of your lips."

John blinked. "What about my lips?"

"You're wearing her lipstick. Too much for one kiss but not enough for four."

John wiped at his mouth with his fingers and frowned. "Why do I even bother to ask anymore."

"So you can tell me I'm amazing?" Sherlock asked.

"You don't need that overblown ego of yours filled any further," John said, shaking his head. He stretched. "OK, are you gonna tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

John rolled his eyes. "Tell me what, he asks. Your date, Sherlock: the first date of your entire life. How did it go?"

"Oh, the date," Sherlock said. "It went…" his eyes moved back and forth for a few seconds before he said: "fine. It went fine."

John blinked. "Fine."

"Yes. Fine."

"Your first date ever, and it was just fine?"

Sherlock sighed. "What do you want, a full synopsis?"

John crossed his arms. "Yes."

Sherlock sat up, folded his arms and gave John his full glaring attention. "Well. Let's see. We had dinner, and Molly drank to the point of mild intoxication, which resulted in her pulling half the tablecloth and nearly all the dishes onto the floor, which got her a standing ovation. We then moved on to dancing, where I insulted two uni girls to the point of tears and they ran off, which upset Molly and nearly ruined our evening until I apologized and later made amends with said girls. We left the club only to be confronted by a camera-wielding Kitty Riley, who made some uncomplimentary comments that resulted in Molly-what is the term? Oh, yes: resulted in Molly bitch-slapping her and threatening to show her Bart's autopsy room, at which point our roving reporter made a hasty retreat. I took Molly home and gave her the second romantic kiss of my entire life, after which I asked her out for tomorrow night. Then I got in the taxi only to discover that the driver was Moriarty, formerly in disguise, who told me to stop letting my 'great romance' go to my head and start looking for him, then he let me off here and ever-so-politely didn't charge me a fare."

John blinked. Several times. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

Sherlock smiled. "And how was your date?"

John blinked again and finally found his voice. "Ordinary. It was ordinary, it was quite…. uneventful."

Sherlock nodded. "I deduced as much."

"And thank God for it," John muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Sherlock smirked. "I told you I don't do anything in half measures."

"And you damn well meant it." John frowned. "Hang on: Moriarty was your taxi driver? And he knows about you and Molly."

"Yes."

"Is she safe?"

"For now, it seems," Sherlock answered.

"What about you? And what about later?"

"That would rather be why I'm going to track him down, now wouldn't it? By the way, need your help with that tomorrow."

John nodded. "Yeah, sure. Do you have any clues?"

Sherlock's face was unreadable for a second. Then he winked. "I always have clues, John."

"Nice of you to share that before now," John muttered. But he winked back.

"I was on a date."

"Hell of a time for that, too, Sherlock. Isn't that going to distract you?"

"I can safely say that dating Molly is going to be distracting, yes. But it will also have some great rewards." Like saving lives.

"Well I said it before, I think you've gone mad, but you always figure it out in the end, so… good."

"Good?"

"I'm glad you had a good time with Molly."

Sherlock frowned. "I didn't say that."

John smiled. "You didn't have to. And you also didn't deny it."

Sherlock shrugged.

"Well, I'm off to bed." John rose and stretched. "See you in the morning, then."

"Good night, John."

"Good night, Sherlock."

John had taken four steps when Sherlock spoke again. "John?"

John turned. "Yes?"

Sherlock's eyes swept around the room for a second before they met his. "I did. Have a good time with Molly."

John smiled. "There. Was that so hard to admit?"

He didn't wait for an answer, just laughed a bit and headed for his bedroom.

Sherlock watched him go, a shadow crossing his face. Harder than you know.