A/N: Thanks to all who read, review and favorite! Hope you like this bit. Next chapter up Monday!

Fic recs:

"Take This Hand, We Can Do It," by eccentricpetal

"The Road Less Traveled By," By Bexi

The "Blood" stories by Cardboard Tube Knight

"The Perfect Suitor," by Aelan Greenleaf

"Your Refuge in the Night," by burning anchors

"Molly Moves on," by MuteBanana

"The Sweet Sound," by Petra Todd

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

Sherlock awoke the next morning restless and driven…. in other words, his normal self. As he applied three nicotine patches he smiled. Who said you couldn't separate your heart from your head? He was doing a spectacular job of it. Hunting Moriarty by day, dating Molly by night… it didn't seem too difficult. Why did it give most people so many problems?

Oh, yes. He wasn't most people.

For a man who was being forced by the greatest psychopathic criminal mind of the century to enter LE LIAISON DANGEREUSE with the formerly stammering pathologist who was confusingly in love with him, his life was pretty good at the moment.

The only real fly in the ointment was how he was going to handle the aftermath with Molly. Well. He'd be honest. But kind. Not his usual way of being kind, the one that caused John to get angry, but truly, ordinary people kind. It wouldn't be fine. But eventually it would be all right. Maybe he could even help Molly find a good bloke so she'd be happy.

The thought of Molly with another man gave him an odd little twitch in his stomach.

Obviously he needed to eat. He'd only consumed about a third of his dinner the night before. After they'd finished for the day? But then was his picnic with Molly. Well, a snack wouldn't hurt.

Enough thinking about food, he admonished himself. It wasn't like him to be this hungry normally. He'd ignored it before: he'd do it again. End of story.

He went downstairs just in time to hear the doorbell. He signed for the package, a box in brown wrapping, his name and address neatly written out, no return address. He took it to the table and cleared off space near the microscope. Examined it carefully. The handwriting was different this time. No real surprise, that. What intrigued him was he couldn't deduce the contents from the outside.

He opened it slowly, methodically. Inside were three other boxes of varying size, each wrapped differently. He opened the smallest one first. It contained another box, which contained a red plastic jewel case and had a CD inside. Written in permanent marker in the same handwriting, in red, were the words "Sherlock & Molly: Official Soundtrack."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, carefully opening the case and examining the CD. Satisfied, he returned it to the case and put the case face down on his laptop.

The second box held a large box of See's Chocolates. A notecard on top read: Sweets for the sweet. For your lips only. Have some now, won't you?

He frowned. Well, it was only chocolate. His body would process the sugar quickly enough. And he was peckish. He knew they were safe: Moriarty didn't want him hurt or dead, not yet at least.

He opened the box and scanned the contents. Four dozen pieces, all dark chocolates. He didn't bother to wonder how Moriarty knew he favored dark chocolate: rather, he took note that they shared the preference. He selected a piece, felt it, sniffed it. Apricot cream.

He popped it into his mouth, closing his eyes, analyzing the flavors. It was rather good. He opened his eyes and reached back in the box. Before he realized it, he'd eaten four pieces. He blinked. Oh, well. He was just doing as instructed, wasn't he?

He closed the box and secreted it away in the living room, then turned his attention to the final box. It was at this point that John entered with a yawn. "Morning."

"Ah, good, you're up. We're leaving in fifteen minutes."

John blinked. "I've had no tea and no breakfast yet."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Twenty minutes?"

"Thirty," John snapped. He glanced at the box and stopped. "What's this?"

"Some fan mail from Moriarty."

John blinked more. "Oooo… kay. Hang on while I get some coffee."

"I thought you wanted tea."

"NOT anymore," John said through tightened lips, heading for the kitchen. "And I might want to add something to the coffee."

Sherlock waited for him to return with his coffee before he opened the final box. This one contained a plastic grocery bag from Tesco's. Slightly damp. Sherlock felt the bag carefully, frowning. Then he opened it. Inside that was another bag. Sainsbury's. Inside that was a tabloid. The Sun. And on the front page was a photo of him leaving Club Aquarium, Molly beside him, her hand in his.

Genius Detective on a New Case: a Date, the headline read.

"Oh, Jesus," John sighed.

Sherlock glanced sideways at him, then flipped the paper open to the story and they began to read.

Sherlock Holmes is on his most challenging case yet: a study in love, exclusively from Kitty Riley

Sorry, ladies and gentlemen: Boffin Sherlock Holmes is apparently no longer on the market.

Holmes, former darling of the Yard and press alike before his 'fall' from grace over the Richard Brook/Jim Moriarty incident, has apparently decided to investigate a new venture: romance. His partner in the case? Not Bachelor John Watson, amazing as that seems.

The 'lucky' person in question is one Miss Molly Kathleen Hooper, a pathologist at Saint Bartholomew's Hospital. Miss Hooper, who attended Oxford University before working at St. Bart's, is believed to have been the silent accomplice in Holmes faking his death last year, though there is no conclusive proof of this.

John raised his eyebrows. "Molly went to Oxford? Did you know that?"

"No," Sherlock said absently, continuing to read.

Though Holmes was officially cleared of any wrongdoing earlier this year, questions still remain. Where is 'Jim Moriarty?' being the biggest one. Is it all just part of some larger game between the two? Could the 'Reichenbach Hero' somehow still truly be a villain?

But wait: the plot thickens. This reporter has learned that Wildcat Molly Hooper has been seen in the company of those fabulous Baker Street boys on and off for over two years. Loverboy Sherlock Holmes has, in fact, been spotted joining her in the lab and the canteen at the hospital on more than a few occasions.

"What the… 'Wildcat' Molly Hooper? 'Loverboy' Sherlock Holmes? Jesus, Sherlock, she still wants to hang you up after all this time," John said angrily.

"Shh," Sherlock said quietly, reading.

The BIG question, of course, is how long has this been going on? Have they had a secret tryst all this time? Or did the romance blossom after a grateful Holmes was saved and exonerated with Hooper's help, if was indeed her? And why did they decide to go public with their relationship? Never fear, good readers: Kitty Riley will get to the bottom it.

Watch for further developments as they occur, exclusively in The Sun!

Sherlock slowly and carefully closed the paper and laid it on the table.

John huffed. "She's got some nerve, hasn't she?" he asked, sipping his coffee.

"Not surprising. She feels like she needs to redeem herself. After we proved the kidnapper wasn't me, she looked foolish. She looked more foolish after we proved there was no Rich Brook."

"Yeah. If only we could've taken Moriarty none of this would be happening." John's eyes darkened. "Sherlock, we've got to capture him alive this time. It's the only thing that will erase what's left of the doubts. There are still too many people who think there was, or is, still some sort of scheme between you two."

"And I've told you before I don't care what people think."

"You'll care if whatever this new plan of his is lands you in prison, or worse!" John snapped.

Sherlock glanced down. "Yes, well, we'll see about avoiding that. Being on the run and handcuffed to you wasn't my idea of a good time." He smiled faintly.

John returned the smile, then frowned. "You know what this means, right? Molly will get hounded. She could get in trouble at Bart's if they feel they need to protect their image…"

"It didn't happen before, and it won't happen now."

"How do you know," John began, then stopped. "Of course. Mycroft."

"Well I wasn't about to let Molly lose her job and her license or go to prison for saving my life," Sherlock said indignantly.

"Miracle Worker Mycroft Holmes," John said. "Too bad he can't help us."

"I don't need his help," Sherlock snapped as he went to get his coat. John followed suit, stopping at the window and frowning. "Not yet, at least," Sherlock muttered.

"Yeah? You might want to rethink that while you've got a golden opportunity," John said.

Sherlock frowned again. "What are you talking about?"

John pulled back the curtain as Sherlock walked over to the window. A sleek black car with tinted windows was sitting in front of 221 B.

Sherlock's mobile rang. He answered it with a sigh. "Good morning, brother dear. How are you? Are you taking us to breakfast?"

"Get in the car, both of you, please," Mycroft said silkily. "And bring whatever evidence you have so far with you as well, won't you?"

"Mycroft-"

"Excellent. The car will be waiting. See you shortly… Loverboy."

Mycroft ended the call. Sherlock took a deep breath and plucked up his scarf.

John looked at him. "Are you-"

"Yes."

"Am I-"

"Yes."

"So much for breakfast," John sighed.

Sherlock slipped on his coat. "So much for looking for Moriarty first thing."

After gathering a few items, they left the flat and entered the waiting car as though they were being taken to face a firing squad.