A/N: I am sorry I didn't get to respond to reviews for the last chapter. Please know I read and loved them all! It's been a busy few days.

Things are really going to pick up this week with the story and I hope you all enjoy it. Look for another A/N at the bottom with details about a huge contest!

In today's chapter: a bargain with the Devil.

"So I ran to the devil, he was waitin." Nina Simone, "Sinnerman"

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

A few hours later they were back at the flat with another two notes. Warmer, and Doc. John had explained the Bugs Bunny reference to Sherlock, who had asked what happened at the end. When told things backfired on Elmer courtesy of Bugs, Sherlock merely rolled his eyes. Moriarty was getting "Loonier" by the day, it seemed.

Sherlock put a map up on the wall and put a red stickpin in the location of the two clues: the abandoned factory and where the body of Alden Wodehouse had been discovered. There would be more clues, he was sure of it. Moriarty was probably saving a really good one for after "The Virgin" no longer was.

He sat in front of John's laptop. John had just gone to shower. He was staying in tonight, said he wanted to "hang round the flat." Hanging round turned out to mean he wanted to clean the flat up more before Mary's visit. Sherlock had sent Molly several texts and received replies. She was "hanging round the flat tonight," she'd said, which he now knew was code for "cleaning up the place." It was funny in a way, her and John having the same code. And it was also oddly comforting. He would pick her up at seven tomorrow night: they would eat dinner at Angelo's. Sherlock wasn't going anywhere this night either. It would be good to stay in for an evening, he decided, to have time to think about the game…

The game. Moriarty and this dammable mobile Sherlock was tethered to. Moriarty, who could hear everything Sherlock said: hear everything said to him by whoever was with him. Moriarty, who had heard him making out with Molly, heard his first oral experience, heard him moaning in his bed: though whether Moriarty thought Sherlock had been masturbating or had had a nocturnal orgasm, he couldn't say. Probably knew it was a dream, and knew why it wouldn't have been masturbation.

And who now was going to hear him and Molly... change his status.

His first complete sexual experience was going to be violated, tainted. It made him disgusted, on Molly's behalf as well as his own.

This was another line Sherlock did not intend to cross.

That meant he had to persuade Moriarty to let him turn the mobile off while he and Molly were being intimate.

How?

Something clicked in his mind, then: something Moriarty had said about having something to bargain with.

Sherlock thought for a few minutes.

He came to two conclusions.

He didn't have much, it was true. But he wasn't entirely without resources.

Sherlock got a pen and some paper and sat for a moment in contemplation. He wrote a few lines, crossed one out, and then wrote a few more. When he was satisfied, he typed the first line into Google and began scanning the results.

The third result made him pause and he clicked the link. He listened to the music, thought about the lyrics. Yes. This would do nicely.

He bought the song, connected his phone to the laptop, and put it on the phone. Then he went round the flat, searching for three specific items. When he found them, he fashioned them together into what he needed.

Then he picked up his phone. "Ring, ring."

When the phone rang he took a deep breath. "Let's go for a ride, shall we?"

"Now?"

"Is it a bad time? Are you plotting ways to manipulate other people's lives?"

"Always," Moriarty said with a laugh. "But you know how special you are. I'll pick you up in twenty minutes. And you don't have to dress up for me."

"Good. I'll be waiting," Sherlock said tersely.

He scrawled a note to John minutes before Moriarty was due and slipped outside, his phone and his bargaining chip in his pocket.

When Moriarty arrived Sherlock got into the taxi. Moriarty slowly pulled away from the flat into traffic. Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"No music today?"

"Yes, but not for you." Moriarty pressed a button on a phone, and a minute later Sherlock's phone beeped. "Send that to Molly."

Sherlock glanced down. An MP3. "What Do You Want from Me?" by someone named Adam Lambert.

"It's soooo relevant," Moriarty answered his unspoken question. "Very emotional. She'll eat it up like biscuits, no worries."

"You seem to be quite an expert on romance. How did that come about? Were you bored for a few days when you were a teenager?"

"Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock. Why are you so mean? I'm an expert on many things, like you. Just many more things. You've neglected your studies, and it's coming back to haunt you. Is it hard for you to admit that?"

"I know everything that's important," Sherlock said.

"Wrong-O, Mary Lou. But you are clever, so it's not too late for you to learn. With a little help from me, of course. Now. You wanted to see me, and somehow I don't think it's for advice on sex. You have John and Mycroft for that, after all. Sure you don't want to take Mycroft up on his offer of a book? You'll be so inept. But then, Molly knows you're a virgin, and she loves you, so no matter how awful you are she'll be ecstatic. Lucky for you."

"I have something for you," Sherlock told him calmly.

Moriarty beamed at him. "For me? What is it?"

"A song for the soundtrack."

"OH. Well I wasn't expecting that," Moriarty admitted. "Go on, then."

Sherlock took out his phone and pressed play for the song.

When it was over, Moriarty sighed. "Goodness, you have gotten dramatic, haven't you? Is that really how you feel?"

"Yes."

He was silent for so long Sherlock wondered if he'd been wrong. But finally Moriarty asked: "what do you want?"

"Privacy. When I'm with Molly. I want it to just be me and her."

"Aww. You closet romantic. Don't want me to listen while you and Molly have Muskrat Love?"

"No," Sherlock said.

"You're asking a lot, Sherlock. And you know that. What else are you offering?"

Sherlock slowly took the object he'd made out of his pocket and held it up.

Moriarty stared.

"You really think you can do that?"

"Yes. And so do you."

"You're actually willing to do it."

"Are you deaf, or did I stutter?" Sherlock asked coldly.

Moriarty exhaled loudly, amused.

"You want me to, remember? You want me to experience passion, fall in love. This will help you get your wish."

A pause. "But it's not what you want."

"What I want is to stop you. That won't happen until we're closer to the end game. This will help me get closer to the end game. So it actually benefits us both."

"You dress it up so pretty, Sherlock. You know what it means if you do this. There's no reset switch, no take-sies back-sies like in primary school. I'll expect it unquestioningly and unconditionally. So I'm asking you one last time: are you sure?"

Sherlock just stared at him. "Yes."

Moriarty was silent again. Then: "All right."

Sherlock kept his sigh of relief internal.

"When you're about to be in Molly's sweet, sweet, loving arms, you can turn off the phone. But not for longer than 6 hours at a time any time you're going to be sexy. And I don't need to tell you that something will happen if you try and trick me, do I?"

"No. But you did anyway."

"Of course. There. You have your bargain."

Sherlock nodded.

As they headed back to Baker Street Moriarty asked: "does it bother you?"

"Does what bother me?"

"That you've done this. That I've made you sell yourself like a painted whore."

"You didn't make me. It's my choice. And I've made much worse choices because of you, so, oddly enough, no."

"Touché, pussycat."

The taxi stopped at 221B, and Sherlock reached for the door handle when Moriarty spoke again.

"Leave it on the seat. I'll put it under my pillow tonight. What sweet dreams I'll have!"

"Have I mentioned recently that you're insane?" Sherlock asked, laying it down as told.

"You flatterer. Go have your little night in. Oh, your last night as a virgin will be spent with Doctor John. How quaint. Buona notte, Cassanova!"

As he closed the door, Sherlock cast a final, fleeting glimpse at what he'd left inside.

A small white flag.

He took a deep breath.

He had, perhaps, traded one evil for another. But he felt at peace with his choice.

John got out of the shower, wandered in, and found a note from Sherlock. It only said: Back soon. SH

John sighed. Knowing something was wrong but not knowing all the details was killing him. But if he did one thing, it was trust his best friend. Sherlock was giving him more hints, even though they were small, innocent sounding remarks. At the same time Sherlock was being very careful not to tell him everything. And John knew he was being eavesdropped on: knew he had his reasons. Knew it had something to do with Molly. But what?

How far was Sherlock taking this thing with Molly, and why?

Sherlock didn't date. Didn't have girlfriends, boyfriends… hell, he barely had any friends. And suddenly he had a relationship? Nothing made sense.

John sincerely hoped it wasn't going to end badly, but this was Moriarty they were talking about. The man was certifiable. Whatever he was blackmailing Sherlock with, it was serious. Probably deadly. And John couldn't help him enough. Just like he couldn't save him from the damned Fall.

He shook his head. No, no. He would find a way. He'd put things together as best he could. There was no way he was letting Sherlock down.

He caught a glimpse of a receipt screen on his laptop and frowned. He moved over to it and looked at it.

His brows knitted together in confusion. And astonishment. Sherlock, listening to… Linkin Park?

Sherlock, snogging with Molly in the morgue? During a murder investigation? Sherlock, planning to… have sex? Ever?

John wondered if he should just give up and go mad now and save his sanity for later.

When Sherlock came back in, John was dusting. The room had a strong odor of lemon polish.

"Everything all right?" John asked.

"As all right as it can be," Sherlock said calmly as he sat on the sofa. Too calmly.

"Since when do you like Linkin Park?" John asked, nodding towards the laptop.

"I don't."

"But you bought one of their songs."

"Yes."

"As a gift?"

"Of sorts," Sherlock murmured.

John stared, baffled. A hunch came to him. For him? He mouthed.

Sherlock nodded.

That didn't answer any questions. It just gave him more.

"You don't sound very happy for a man who has a girlfriend he's going off to stay with tomorrow night," John commented.

"There is a lot to process in my head at the moment," Sherlock said.

Can you tell me?

Sherlock shook his head. Not yet.

"Sherlock, how far are you going to take this thing with Molly?"

Sherlock's gaze was unreadable. "As far as I take everything else, John. All the way to the end."

"And what's the end?" John asked.

"I don't know yet, do I? She just became my girlfriend today. Even I can't predict the future."

"No, I reckon not," John answered.

Sherlock leaned back and studied him. "Now, I believe you offered to give me some pointers about sex?"

John froze and dropped the can of polish with a loud thud.

"I'm rather nervous, you know," Sherlock said, looking at him earnestly. "Especially about oral sex. Perhaps you could demonstrate for me how it's done? It involves a good bit of tongue use, does it not?"

John gulped. "Um…"

Sherlock gave him a shit-eating grin.

John shook his head and started to laugh. "You're being funny."

"Of course. I had to get you back for the zip."

John's laugh turned into a roar, and Sherlock chuckled along with him.

For one moment, all was right at 221 B Baker Street.

A/N: Well, I HAD a contest for guessing what Linkin Park song Sherlock played, but the contest was over in the first 10 minutes! Congratulations, MURMELTIERCHEN! The song Sherlock plays for Moriarty is "Numb!"

Thanks to everyone who played!