A/N: The game continues! Thank you all so much for the love for this story. You have no idea how much light it brings in.

In today's chapter: Jealous!Sherlock, a game-changer, Moriarty, and the CHOCOLATES revealed!

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

"Right," Sherlock said crisply, staring down. "The victim-"

"Is my boyfriend," Molly said, then winced as Sherlock and John stared. "No, sorry: I mean, he used to be my boyfriend. About five years ago."

"Well that rather puts things in a different light," Sherlock murmured. "Tell me your history with him," he said to Molly as he started slowly walking around, examining and deducing.

"We… we met at a hospital fundraiser. He asked me out; we started dating, dated for probably about six months."

"And then he ended it," Sherlock murmured, still looking at the body.

Molly couldn't help but bristle a bit. "How do you know he…"

"Am I wrong?"

"No, but…"

"Molly, do you really want to have this conversation in front of John and Lestrade?" Sherlock asked wryly, though not in a mean way.

"Is it relevant?" Lestrade asked, frowning.

"No," Sherlock said. "What is relevant, however, is the fact that it is one of Molly's ex-boyfriends, and the letters that are carved over the heart."

He looked up at her finally. "When's the last time you saw this man?"

"His name is…was…Alden Wodehouse, and it was three days ago."

"You saw an ex-boyfriend three days ago and didn't tell me?" Sherlock asked incredulously. This made him feel something, something he wasn't used to feeling… oh. Damn.

"It was a chance meeting. I didn't ring him up or anything, Sherlock. Besides, I'm not your girlfriend, remember?" she asked, still a bit hurt even though she'd forgiven him. Then she frowned. "Hang on: are you jealous?"

"Of course I'm not jealous," he retorted.

"Because you're acting jealous," Molly told him.

"I'm not jealous," Sherlock said irately.

"Actually, you are acting a bit jealous," John said, nonplussed, and Sherlock scowled at him.

"People!" Lestrade snapped. "The case, please?"

"So you saw this man three days ago. And now he's dead. How many more ex-boyfriends do you have that are still in London?" Sherlock asked Molly.

Molly frowned. "Two, that I know of. But would they be in danger?"

"Why was Alden Wodehouse in danger?"

"I don't know. I…oh!" Molly exclaimed. "I don't know if this means anything, but he…when I saw him, it was the day after I got home. At the store. We chatted a bit, he told me I looked nice… that was about the end of it, though."

"You looked nice, with bruises on your face? He was flirting because he thought you were vulnerable. Maybe that was the end of it as far as you were concerned, but not Moriarty," Sherlock said. "He had reason to suspect this man was going to try and pursue you, and he didn't like it."

"But why?" Lestrade asked.

"Maybe he doesn't want me to have any competition for Molly's affections."

"But he wasn't… you don't… I mean, why would he care? And how did he know? You had just asked me out the night before! We hadn't gone on our date yet!" Molly exclaimed, bewildered.

"Yeah, Sherlock, why? How?" Lestrade asked.

"I don't know yet. He could also be getting rid of all your exes for some reason."

"Why would he do THAT?" Molly gasped.

"Again, I'm not sure yet. I need you to run some tests. Toxicology, the whole bit. I want to know for certain what the cause of death was."

John blinked. "Sherlock, he was shot. One good clean shot."

"Yes, but I need to know if he was already dead before he was shot. The wounds from the cuts on his chest. There was blood."

"And dead men don't bleed," John finished.

"So he was alive when that was done."

"Oh, God," Molly said faintly.

Sherlock looked at her. "This is not the time to panic, Molly."

"Well how about you let me know what time is convenient, then?" she snapped.

He shocked all of them by putting his hands on her shoulders. "Moriarty is the most dangerous man alive. He's clever, he's insane, and for some reason he's taken an interest in our relationship, as evidenced by the "S&M" carved over the victim's heart. I need you to hold yourself together, Molly, because I can't have my girlfriend falling apart over this."

The silence in the room was deafening.

Molly was the first to break it. "But… you said…"

"I know what I said. So let's just say that someday is today and move along, yes?"

She stared at him. She didn't understand any of this: how he could change his mind this way, now. And be totally unconcerned about discussing it in front of John and Greg Lestrade.

But... stupid as it was, insane as it was… hearing him say "my girlfriend…"

"I don't understand you," she said, maddened by him.

He smiled. "I don't understand myself entirely lately."

"This is all fantastic, but for Chrissakes, can you two please stay focused on the case?" Lestrade asked in exasperation. "Or do I have to separate you like you were in primary school?"

"I'd like to see you try, Lestrade," Sherlock answered, still smiling. "Well, Molly?"

Girlfriend.

Something she never thought Sherlock Holmes would say, and certainly not to her.

If he hadn't have just asked her not to fall apart, she would have done, combining the murder with the girlfriend bit to make it more efficient. It was horribly, terribly wrong to feel happy, what with an ex-boyfriend dead in her morgue while the most amazing, infuriating man alive was in her morgue and had asked her an insane question in the middle of a police murder investigation.

But some part of her did.

Molly looked at him, and knew that since she wanted to be with him, and being with him would never be normal, there was really only one thing she could say. She smiled.

"Yes. That would be lovely. Thank you. Yes is my answer."

He winked at her, released her shoulders and turned to Lestrade. "Well! That's settled. Really, Lestrade, what are you so upset about?"

After Sherlock had finished his deductions and Molly had prepared various samples for analysis, Sherlock coaxed her into going to get them some tea, crisps and biscuits. She looked at him oddly.

"You don't eat while you're working."

He met her eyes. "Can't I change my mind?" He dropped his voice down half a notch. "Can't I be hungry?"

John shifted in his chair, ignoring the innuendo. Good God. Sherlock Holmes making an innuendo. The world had gone mad. "I think I'll go too," he said. He wanted to call Mary again: she hadn't answered the first time.

Molly looked somewhat flustered, which had been Sherlock's intention. "All right. Back in a bit, I'll meet you in the lab," she said, and they left.

Sherlock took the samples with him to the lab, put them down, whipped out his phone and sent John a text. Stall her for at least half an hour. SH

How?

Tell her you need advice about Mary. SH

I don't.

Make something up. I need to analyze something in private. SH

All right.

Lestrade had gone back to the Yard for a meeting and was expecting their report. Alone at last, Sherlock pulled out the bag of chocolates and got to work.

He waited impatiently for the results, and when he saw them he blinked. Several times. And then he got angry.

He'd known Moriarty had put something in them. He'd had some guesses. But nothing had quite prepared him for this.

Testosterone. 3, 4-methylenedioxy-N-methylamphetamine. Tetrahydrocannabino. Sildenafil citrate. Arginine vasopressin. L-3, 4-dihydroxyphenylalanine.

Moriarty wasn't going to kill him with a bomb. He was going to kill him with hormone-filled, happiness-seeking, lust-afflicting, bonding-urging chocolate creams.

He all but tore out his phone. "I'd like a word with you," he hissed.

When the phone rang he wrenched it open. "What the hell do you think you're playing at!" he hissed again.

"OH. Did you finally get round to seeing what goodies I'd put in your sweets?" Moriarty asked. "I'm very proud of those, actually. They've been having such a lovely effect on you!"

"Are you trying to kill me?" Sherlock demanded. "You put half a chemist shop in that chocolate!"

"Calm down. I was very careful with the doses and combinations, and you know it. Of course, I figured you'd eat a few a day. But it seems that you decided to push the envelope, didn't you? Indulge a bit? Mix up the order? How many did you eat?"

"Eight last night, and two this morning."

"Whoa. Well, you'll probably be okay. You've a high tolerance to drugs. Though I'd advise you to lay off them a bit. You'll be even more high-strung and emotional than you have been. Hornier, too. But you've already felt that. And you know what I'm going to tell you about all this, don't you?"

"Yes. You're going to tell me to let it happen and enjoy it."

"Of course."

"Why are you drugging me like this? I've done everything you've asked me to," Sherlock said angrily.

"Of course you have. But I did it for you, my dear."

"For me? Oh, I can't wait to hear this," Sherlock snarled.

"You're not used to letting yourself feel. You try to keep it locked up. What good is that? I'm helping you to free yourself. You've been nervous about performing the role of a lover. I gave you the tools you'd need to manage it. To enhance your emotions. Open you up, make you less inhibited, more responsive. Think of it as vitamins, Sherlock. Love vitamins."

"I am not going to eat any more of them. Not now, not ever."

"You don't really have anything to bargain with, do you?" Moriarty asked bitingly. "I didn't think so. You'll keep eating them until I'm satisfied."

"Satisfied with what?"

"That you don't need them anymore, stupid. Take tomorrow off. Then eat four a day."

"No."

"You've made me angry once today, Sherlock. You really don't want to do it again."

"Haven't you done enough?" Sherlock asked.

"No. I haven't. Now stop whinging and whining. It's beyond your control, remember? By the way, have you figured out what you need to know about the body?"

"Not entirely, and you know it. Molly is going to run some tests."

"Ah, yes. Your deductions and her analysis's. You do make a lovely couple. Nice job on sorting things out, by the way. It was wonderful knowing that not everything you told her was a lie. And you got the hint about her being your girlfriend. I was worried earlier when you had your little fit. What a drama queen you were. But a man like you doesn't fuck a woman that he doesn't have a proper relationship with, so we had to make it so."

"I loathe you," Sherlock whispered.

"Of course you do. You hate to feel and I'm forcing you to. Isn't it marvelous? Now, Molly will probably be up in a few minutes with John, so we'll stop soon. Ask Molly out for tomorrow night. And pack a bag, because you know what's coming. You'll be staying over at her flat."

"Why can't she spend the night at my flat?" Sherlock demanded irately.

"If you like. But remember, John is having his lovely new girlfriend over for the weekend. Do you really want your first time with Molly to be in the same flat where Doctor John and Nurse Mary will be doing it as well?"

Sherlock sighed.

"I didn't think so. Welcome to the wide, wonderful world of sex, Sherlock. Now embrace the upcoming loss of your virginity and make plans. After you investigate, of course. Ciao for now!"

Sherlock briefly wondered again if Moriarty would blow anyone up if he threw the phone against the wall.

A/N #2: I did some, but not exhaustive, research on the chocolates, and I think it's all plausible. If I did not get it all perfect, please suspend a bit of disbelief. Thank you!