In which Sherlock & Molly discuss the previous evening

In which Sherlock and Molly go for the gold

Personal Best I

Sherlock felt Molly moving in the bed next to him, and he opened his eyes to plentiful daylight streaming through the window. John, though fully clothed, was lying next to Molly, kissing her, murmuring to her.

"Hey," John said when he noticed Sherlock was awake.

"Mmm, time is it?" Sherlock rubbed his eyes with the heel of a hand, then reached a hand to his people, not caring who took it, John or Molly, either one would do. But both John and Molly took his hand and John leaned toward him. Sherlock still wasn't used to it, and when John leaned in to kiss his neck, he hissed with pleasure.

"I'm late, but I wanted to – make sure you were ok."

"He couldn't leave without kissing you goodbye," Molly shook her head in mock disgust, but smiled as John leaned over her, reaching for Sherlock.

"Molly will have to help you with this," John whispered as he took Sherlock's morning erection in hand, stroking him gently.

"Mmm, I'm sure Molly will do a fine job," Sherlock smiled, ruffling John's hair.

Molly pursed her lips, thinking about whether or not she should be offended , but she was so pleased with how these two were getting along, she said nothing, and smiled. "Molly, love," Sherlock leaned to her cheek with his lips even as John slid down his friend's body to take his cock in his mouth. "Ah, John." But John was up off the bed quickly after only a few moments of teasing tongue play.

"Sorry, I really must, Molly, sorry." John smiled at the two of them as they lay in one another's arms. "I'm going to be late, now."

"We'll go to the door with you," Sherlock heaved out of bed, and slipped into a pair of pyjamas, and the three made their way to the door where there was more ridiculous kissing, cooing and love protestations. Even on the landing outside the door, John lingered, and his wife and friend were happy to have him linger, as they continued their stroking, and petting. At length, John tore himself away and trotted down the staircase. At the bottom of the stairs he turned and waved.

"See you at five."

"Love you."

"See you then, love."

John managed finally to get out the door.

"He's in love with us."

"Yes. And we're in love with him."

Molly and Sherlock made their way back into the kitchen, where Molly made some toast for Sherlock and then started a little perfunctory tidying up.

"So you went shopping – yesterday?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes." Molly replied, pausing a moment to run a hand through his curls.

"What – what made you -?"

"Buy the cuffs? The collar? I don't know, I guess – I thought you wanted – you know, to be able to be a little more physical – without – I don't know? Without hurting anybody? Or that you needed to think the restraints would keep you from hurting anyone. Was I right?" Molly looked to Sherlock for confirmation.

"Mmm. Yes, I suppose that's it. Something like that. Oh, god, the cuffs, the cuffs are – oh, god, Molly."

"Yes," Molly agreed. "You were very lovely in them. And John is smitten with you all over again. And he's so lovely to watch with you. Maybe he'll be able to let go of himself - a little more with me – too. You know? Oh, I wish – I wish he didn't have to have this new difficulty with - the restraints, though?"

"I don't think it's difficulty with the restraints per se," said Sherlock, sipping his coffee. "In fact, he's in love with the restraints. He's - having trouble accepting how they make him feel."

"Mmm. I had no idea he was so dominant. I mean, when we - when he and I -."

"Yes, I know. Maybe it's only with men. For him. Or maybe it's only with me."

"Hmm. Best not put that kind of label on it."

"No, no, of course not." Sherlock immediately appreciated the wisdom of not discussing that particular notion with John. No need to open an old can of worms. Sherlock watched Molly as she pottered about the kitchen, washing up the dishes, putting away the bread. Why is she so late at home? he suddenly wondered.

"Molly?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you – working today?"

Molly didn't turn to Sherlock, but smiled, her back to him, and tried to keep her voice as normal as possible.

"No – I have the day off."

Sherlock grinned, then pursed his lips. The word debauchery came to mind. Isn't the French language absolutely magnificent? So expressive. So wonderfully sensuous. He stepped behind Molly, taking her in his arms.

"Really, Molly? All day?" He worked a hand into her dressing gown and reached down, caressing her sex, gently stroking the hair there.

"Um, yes," said Molly, "Unless, unless ah -."

"Unless what, love?" Sherlock had gently slipped a finger into her, finding her particularly wet.

"Unless I – I – I go to the shops!"

The mug she was washing clattered into the sink as Sherlock hiked her gown to her hips and pressed his erection against her hip.

"Yes, the shops, that sounds, ah – oh, Molly."

Molly turned around to face Sherlock, and shrugged out of her gown in one gesture, sending the red silk pouring down her body to the floor where it pooled around her feet. Sherlock shucked off his pyjamas, and Molly quickly hitched a leg to Sherlock's waist and he easily lifted her to the edge of the kitchen counter. She locked her legs around his waist, and locked her arms around his neck. He entered her quickly and smoothly then picked her up off the counter holding her to him.

"All right?" he asked.

"Yes, yes," said Molly already breathless and surging against him in his arms.

"The shops can wait, then? Hmm? The washing up . . .?" Sherlock smiled.

"Yes, yes, ahaha."

Sherlock let Molly writhe and squirm against him, impaled on his cock, trapped in his arms. She loved taking over, taking on all the so-called 'work,' and Sherlock loved watching her, either when she was with him, or with John. After several minutes of struggling to keep her from falling out of his arms to the floor as she bucked against him, he decided he'd better sit down and let Molly have her way with him. He managed to plop into a chair.

"Oh, good, love, yes, let me, oh, good -." Molly's wet lips were whispering for no apparent reason, but Sherlock smiled as her breath tickled his ear. He held her hard, but carefully around the waist as Molly seemed to go mad flinging herself against Sherlock, pounding against him. Sherlock was barely able to keep his hold on her, and almost giggled at her desperation. At length she finally reached between her legs to touch herself there, still surging against Sherlock's cock, pumping up and down.

"Molly, love, what can I do?" Sherlock's voice was strained, but he was still very much in control of himself.

"S'ok, I've got it," she said, and stilled somewhat against Sherlock. He let her touch herself, let her move against him as she would, let her use him, essentially until she finally fell against his shoulder, setting her teeth into his skin. Sherlock felt her stiffen and spasm, her arms, flailing away from her body, weirdly disconnected from her. Sherlock smiled and whispered in her ear.

"So lovely, darling, but I'm still ready for you, if you like?" He reached for her arms, drawing them back to her body and pulsed into her gently for now, knowing he wouldn't have to wait long before she was pumping against him again. He slowed though, when she came back to herself a bit.

"Shh, love, no rush, is there?" He asked, pinning her wrists together behind her in one of his hands, disabling her ability to push against him as hard as she might like. He teased her with a slow rhythm, now, pulsing into her deeply, gripping her hip in one hand, digging his fingers into her somewhat painfully.

"I love how desperate you seem to be with me sometimes. I don't see you do it with John, though, I wonder why?"

"Mmm -." Molly wasn't talking now, he saw, so he didn't make any further inquiries.

"It's lovely - love you, darling. Love you both so much." He licked her ear, then drove his tongue into it, eliciting some very pretty whimpering from Molly. He felt her getting frustrated with the slow pace, but he knew that was only building her excitement. Molly whimpered again against Sherlock's neck. She found that her feet, not even her toes, didn't reach the floor and Sherlock still had her arms captured behind her. What to do? she thought. She pressed into him, her neck against his, her torso against his. All she had were her own stomach muscles, and those of her thighs and she used them now with all the strength she had, pitching and grinding against him.

"Hmmhmm, Molly love, you're such an interesting woman." Sherlock let her arms go, and Molly was able to push down on his shoulders again, getting the friction she wanted, and it wasn't long before she had Sherlock right where she wanted him. She watched as he got close, straining against her, his neck muscles standing out against his skin, his face contorted, then she slowed, and then stopped moving. Unable to stop his rhythm, Sherlock had to grasp her by the waist, the hips, and move her against him. She was light enough for him to actually lift her up and down against him, which he did manage to do for several strokes, but he preferred Molly to strain against him herself, she was so lovely at it.

"Oh, god, love, please, stop teasing, I need you now, please, Molly? Oh, please, Molly?" Sherlock begged her.

Molly gave a little moan of satisfaction then gave in and recommenced her straining against him until they were both moaning loudly into one another's mouths, biting and scratching one another's shoulders, stiffening in one another's arms, then riding out their orgasms, holding one another closely and hard, both of them concentrating on making sure Molly remained balanced in Sherlock's lap. They finally were still for some moments, and then they were kissing again, softly, affectionately. Finally they were quiet, and Sherlock waited some time before he asked her again.

"Why don't you do it with John?" He looked at her to see her reaction to the question. He knew she'd heard him before. She might even have been able to answer, when they were in the heat of the moment, but preferred to avoid the question. He saw her eyes flash away from him.

"I, I don't know. You – you -."

"Hmm?" Sherlock murmured patiently, brushing her jaw and cheek with his lips. "If you don't want to tell me, just say that, all right? That's fine, just tell me."

"I – I think it has to do with – our beginning, yours and mine. Whereas, with John, we – we -." Molly always had a little reversion back to an old self when Sherlock questioned her so directly.

"Ah." Sherlock remembered their initial lovemaking sessions in the rather dumpy hotel she had scoped out for his interim hiding spot. Nerves were on edge, fear was running high in both of them. The slightest thing going wrong might have ruined everything. Might have gotten John, Greg and Mrs. Hudson killed. But once they'd gotten to the hotel room, with the door locked behind them, they couldn't resist one another and had had several heated, even somewhat violent couplings. It had been rather incandescent, and the dangers of the moment certainly seemed to have heightened the feelings of the moment.

"Yes," Sherlock remembered, "The adrenaline."

"Yes, you must remember."

"Oh, god, of course I do. Molly." He touched her gently, now. "Thank god that wasn't all we had. Well, really, that thanks goes to you, doesn't it?"

"Mmm." She kissed him again, and hopped off his lap, running her fingers through his hair. Then she returned to doing some washing up.

Washing up?! Sherlock was barely coherent again after this last bought of play. How can she even stand, let alone -? Sherlock was a little wounded to be ignored so quickly particularly after their discussion, however brief, of their first moments together. He himself always held the topic in particular reverence. But what can I do about it now? He wondered, looking down at his flaccid member, slumbering in his lap. A number of things crossed his mind, and he rose from the chair, sinking to his knees behind Molly. He gripped her hips, and kissed her backside, licking her, spreading her cheeks, going deeper and deeper to her tiny tighter opening. He heard a very satisfactory clatter of cutlery dropping into the sink when Molly turned around, presenting him with her wet, mussed, completely fucked sex and he pressed his face against it, sinking his tongue into her folds, then he pressed his thumb into her at the same time he drove a finger into her tighter hole, pumping her there. He hummed his mouth against her clit and Molly was pulling his hair now, a little harder than he liked, but he couldn't help but love it as his new respect for loss of control was ever deepening. She collapsed against him with only a little noise at her release, and he held her against him in his arms. But he was determined to destroy her today, obliterate her totally, and he rose, slinging her over his shoulder, one hand on her hip, the fingers of the other deep inside her, probing her.

"Wait, Sherlock, what are you - ?"

"Shh, never mind that, love." Sherlock carried her into the bedroom and flung her onto the bed somewhat unceremoniously.

"No more dishes today, Molly, dear. No shops."

"I have to – make a call -," Molly made to rise from the bed, and Sherlock flung her back to the mattress, pinning her down, lying on top of her.

"What call, darling? Hmm? Bart's? John?"

"Umm-."

"There is no call. Is there?"

Molly giggled.

"Ah – no. No call." she said.

"Hmm. I didn't think so. So, you were just teasing me, weren't you? Testing me?"

"Mmm, yes, aren't I bad?"

"Hmmhmm. Yes you are. Good." Sherlock gripped Molly's neck in his hands as he licked her lips, then pressed his mouth against hers, his tongue easily slipping in, exploring, pressing against her own tongue. There was a brief fight for domination which Sherlock quickly won despite Molly's writhing and biting. When he pulled away after some gentler caressing and nipping he saw that she was a little miffed at having lost her little bit of control. She probably would have won with John. Or would he have let her win?

"All right?" he asked by way of apology, and Molly smiled immediately.

"Yes, of course."

Sherlock reached between them and pressed his thumb and finger into her again and watched her fling her head back, arching into his hand, thrusting for better friction against him. Pagan goddess, animal, sexual shaman, acolyte of Aphrodite, how did England spawn such a creature and shepherd her to me? To us? Sherlock sucked her breast gently, still fucking her with his fingers.

"Molly, love?"

"Mm?"

"How many times have you ever come in one day?"

"Hmm, interesting. I think it was 8?"

Sherlock knew the answer to his next question.

"With John?"

"Shh." Molly hushed him. Hmmhmm, no, not John, I was right, he thought.

"Our secret," he assured her. "At uni?"

"Yes."

"Boy or girl?"

"Shh."

"Ahaha. Molly, love – well, both, then. Separately? Together? Together, all three? Like us?"

"Mmm. It was – we were – it was fun."

Sherlock could feel his erection come back to life with all this rough activity, and talk of Molly's former, previously unknown sexual life. He nuzzled her neck, biting her and nipping at her nipples.

"I think we'll go for nine today, hmm? Won't John be proud of us?" Sherlock brought up John to find out the truth about these orgasms. He knew there were a few things left out of the story. Sure enough, Molly pursed her lips, and squinted her eyes, looking up at Sherlock imploringly.

"John doesn't know about the 8 at uni, but he knows about – about the boy and the girl."

"Ah," said Sherlock, sinking his fingers deeper into her, looking into her eyes, loving her surrender. "You really mustn't keep secrets like that love, and then tell me about them. You're going to get us into trouble, god, you're going to get me into trouble with John." Sherlock adored Molly's secrets, but genuinely feared John's anger or pain at finding them out. It was like being 13 all over again! " What does John think? How many times does he think you've come with him?"

"Seven."

"Hmm, not bad." Sherlock took Molly's chin in his hand gently. "Any faked?"

Molly tried to squirm away from Sherlock's hold, but he only chuckled. "Obviously the answer to my question is 'yes.' The question remains, 'how many?' and I can deduce that just as easily, by gauging your reactions to my –."

"Two," Molly gave in.

"Just two?"

"Yes," Molly hissed. "Oh, you're horrible when you get an idea in your head." Molly tried to get off the bed, and Sherlock held her back, looking in her face with a smile.

"Do you really want to get out of bed, Molly?" He was still gently probing her with his fingers, swirling around her outer folds, then gently plunging back down, deeply, deeply, gently, gently. It was madding.

"No."

"Ah. I'm so glad. So, five for John, and eight for the uni students, boy and girl. Any faked with them?"

"Well, no, actually. We were very young, and – ah -."

"Very young, and very lively." Sherlock kissed her, "We're still young, Molly, and John, don't be ridiculous. Well, not bad, boy and girl uni students, but it doesn't matter, I'm afraid, as we're going to shatter that record today."

"Really, Sherlock, I have things to do, I have to – to - ." Molly's head arched back with pleasure as Sherlock's thumb gently pressed her clit as he held his fingers inside her. Then he removed his hand somewhat abruptly.

"Oh, some business to take care of? Well, I understand." Sherlock smiled and watched Molly lift her head, opening her eyes, revealing her disappointment at the removal of his hand.

"Oh, no? Nowhere to go? All right." Sherlock slipped his hand back between her legs, continuing his gentle exploration of her, then leaned his head down to tongue her sex and kiss her there. He popped his head up to glance at the clock. John would be home at five. It was ten now. Technically I should have 24 hours, but it's best to get things done early, isn't it? That gave him 7 hours to bring Molly off seven more times, easily achievable, he thought. But I must be very careful to make sure she doesn't fake them.

"Molly, love, seriously, do you want to? Make a day of it? I'm only being a complete bore, because I know you like it sometimes. Tell me? Am I being too obnoxious?"

"No, love. Yes, let's have a day of it, hmm?" Molly stroked his face with finger tips, then reached for his cock, stroking him gently. He kissed her.

"All right. The next two orgasms will be oral and then inter-vaginal," He announced, but noted that Molly's expression quickly changed to one of amusement and lasciviousness.

"Oh, you liked that? Cold reportage? Why? What does it – Oh." Sherlock dipped his head in embarrassment. "Like that aloof prick I was before we – before? What was so lovely about me then?"

Molly smiled.

"Oh." Sherlock continued, ruminating. "Interesting. Reminds you – of – of-. Oh! Of your first moments of infatuation with me? Hmm, Molly?" Sherlock was suddenly smug. "Puts you in mind of – of, oh, god, some few particular moments of excitement for you – hmhm, at meeting me or seeing me unexpectedly?"

Molly continued to smile, now biting her bottom lip.

"Does it remind you of some particular fantasies - you had of me? Of us together?"

Molly licked her lips, leaving them parted slightly.

"Oh, Molly, you will have to tell me these fantasies, won't you? Oh god, Molly, was John in these fantasies of yours?"

"Yes," was Molly's blurted response as the tension was getting to be too much for her.

"Oh, god I can't wait for you to tell me, no you must tell us both, we'll have our own personal Decameron, shall we?"

"Mmm. Good idea. That is, if you're going to actually share with us?"

Sherlock hesitated. Human contact. That was what this was all about, but it couldn't stop at the physical, could it? This still burgeoning relationship with John and Molly had already surpassed his wildest, most hopeful expectations. But it was true he didn't often talk about his past with John or even Molly. It was only with pure dentistry that John was able to pull out some little details from Sherlock about Nana's chair, and his previous weight problem. If the three were to have an actual Decameron, Sherlock realized he'd have to be more forthcoming.

"Yes, you're quite right. I'll have to – I'll have to - aghm – share. More."

Molly smiled, stroking Sherlock's cock, reaching to kiss him, but he pulled away, a wicked smile on his face. He held up a finger, signalling her to wait while he thought about something, then his whole demeanour changed suddenly, and it was as though Molly were in a time four years past, with a man she barely knew, a Sherlock she barely recognized as her current lover. A cold veneer glazed over his expression, and a youthful arrogance suddenly inhabited his body. His words, though comical were unmistakably that of the former Sherlock. The same man, but before the experiences he encountered after he faked his own death. When he spoke, it shocked Molly to hear the same voice, but this utterly different man, this unchanged, aloof, cold man, not her lover, never her lover.

"All right, Miss Hooper. For our very important scientific study, we will be bringing you to an additional seven orgasms in the next seven hours. Shall we begin? Please spread your legs and allow me to bring you to full sexual arousal and then orgasm with – ah – oral stimulation."

"Y-yes, Mr. Holmes," Molly stammered, the nerves of her body leaping as he firmly placed his hands at her knees, spreading them and she gasped when he pressed his face into the wet gaping mouth of her sex already pink and angry with arousal.

John smiled and looked at the clock. Molly's day off and it's only half ten. They've been together at least twice now and she's already teasing him for more attention, pretending to ignore him, reading, something like that. Ahaha. John was sure Sherlock would handle her better than he would himself, but was glad that they would have some time together. Sherlock could see for himself what a handful she was in bed alone when she had a whole day off. While he was glad to have Sherlock with them, now, for his own sake, he was also very grateful to have him to share Molly with, she was insatiable sometimes. Hmm, if he can manage it, well, he's a younger man, he'll have her again before noon. John jotted the hours of 10 through 5 on a piece of paper and applied two hatch marks after the 10. They'll probably have a day of it. We'll see how well I do. Well that is – if they tell the truth. Sherlock will. At least she won't be able to fake it with him. John had a chuckle to himself, knowing that Molly often faked her orgasms if she thought they were important to John. John let her do it. He was fairly sure she'd faked a one or two when they'd tried to break her record. Well. What am I to do about it? He smiled and shook his head and added a hatch mark after the hour of 11. He will need to eat something. I hope he has some sense today.I'll give him a call – I'll - The door opened then, and the office assistant conducted the next patient into John's office.

Number 3, oral, had gone quite according to plan, but Number 4 intervaginal was proving problematic as Sherlock approached his climax much more quickly than he had anticipated. Molly was particularly inventive, her glance was challenging as she twisted and bounced her way to her finish. Sometimes she just did 'the usual,' but quite often, she would surprise him with something just a little off course and he'd be out of control faster than he'd anticipated like this time. He'd been confident that he could bring Molly off quickly this way, and still be hard for Number 5, also intervaginal. Good thing I didn't plan that far in advance, he thought, as Molly finally was bucking against him in her usual fashion just before she reached her finish. He decided not to fight it, and fucked her into the mattress, coming at almost the same time she did, collapsing on top of her. Well, Number 5 will have to be a bit more creative, he thought as he all but passed out, his full weight on Molly's small frame. Just the way she likes it, he knew. He felt her purr beneath him.

John replaced his flask into his lunch bag, and closed the flap of it. Well at least the take away doesn't go to waste, he thought having finished a bit of curry. He was sitting in the green space near the clinic on a bench when he decided to ring Sherlock. He keyed in the number with a smirk on his face and was quite surprised when his partner actually picked up his mobile.

"Hey?"

"Hey," John answered, but went on smoothly, "Just wondering if we need anything? There? Milk? Tea?" John was gleeful to note Sherlock's hesitation. I was right, they're getting up to all sorts today.

"Um - ." Sherlock's voice was a little suspicious.

"Well, I'll get a smaller milk, shall I?" John couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice.

"Ah – that'll be fine, John. Was that - ?" Sherlock offered nothing further and there was a definite lull in the conversation, if indeed you could call it that.

"Did you eat anything this morning, Sherlock?" John grinned at the pause.

"Um, well, yesss, yes, I did, actually, John. This – ah, morning."

"Hmm, very funny. I mean any food, you idiot." John admonished, but with a grin.

The line went silent.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, yes, John, I did have some – toast."

"And drink some -."

"Water, yes, yes, Dr. Hydration, I will drink some water, too."

"Promise."

"Oh, god, John, I promise." Yes, Sherlock thought, Just like being 13 again.

"And don't – I mean - try not to hurt yourself today." John was biting the insides of his lips.

"What are you talking about, John?"

John disintegrated into giggles but managed to say he'd be bringing home take away, so he'd be a few minutes later than five.

"All right, John, I really must -."

"I love you, - both of you Sherlock, kiss Molly at least a couple of times for me, will you?"

"Hmmhmm." Sherlock realized how thoroughly John had sussed out the situation. "Yes, I will. Love you, John. See you at five."

"See you then." John rang off, smiling wickedly to himself.

"That was Dr. Watson, Miss Hooper. He seems to have some sort of knowledge of our heretofore secret and highly classified scientific investigations today. He's very perceptive. Of course, he knows my methods." Sotto voce, Sherlock added, "He sends his love." Sherlock and Molly smiled at their game of 'aloof-Sherlock,' which was put a bit to the side as they ate their meal. Sherlock even went so far as to lean over to kiss Molly's cheek. "From John," he whispered, then kissed her again, "From me," he added. Molly smiled.

Molly and Sherlock were sharing some take away leftovers, eating them out of the containers at midday. They were standing in the kitchen, passing cartons back and forth to one another when Sherlock finished the vindaloo.

"Interesting."

"What?" Molly asked.

"I've just finished the curry. It was – ah, particularly piquant. Aghm." Sherlock arched an eyebrow at Molly. "I understand that if one engages in -."

"I've heard about this -." Molly took off her robe, and put down her food. "Let me sit down, my legs are made of jam after that last one."

"Well, thank you very much, Miss Hooper." Sherlock was on his knees already, parting Molly's sex, then he placed his mouth, his tongue directly onto her pinker, inner flesh, and then her little knot of nerves, then proceeded to rub her there with his tongue. It didn't take long at all before Molly felt an exotic, illicit, somehow unnatural burn between her legs, it made her squirm and buck as though she had red ants biting at her, stinging her.

"Yes, yes, it stings, oh god, oh god." Molly came again, and cold, aloof former Sherlock announced his scientific findings.

"Number five successfully achieved through clitoral stimulation orally with the added stimulus of a curry blend of spices." Sherlock noted Molly's completely dead weight in his arms.

"Miss Hooper? Are you quite all right? Perhaps you need a nap."

"Yes, that would be lovely."

John couldn't resist and fired off a text to Sherlock.

How's it going – J

What? SH

Come on You know I know

Gentleman doesn't tell

Eat any food? Drink any water?

Yes, both, and both of us.

Ok. Don't break anything you may need later.

Very funny – see you 5?

Ok - J

Ok SH

John rang off and smiled. Oh, he's feeling the pressure now, He's only got two and a half hours left, before I get home. John looked at his paper with the hours of the day. Two before 11, one before 12, a generous two before 1 and one before 2. Well, he's probably already beaten or even with my pathetic 5 or 6. She's lied to me about uni, I know, she's done more than she's said. And now I know for sure because he's sounding a bit desperate. Ahaha! A strange quiet sort of panic took hold of John, despite his cheerfulness. It made him antsy and a little short with the clinical staff. Am I coming down with something? What's this nervousness? He wondered, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Nor could he shake it and it remained, niggling at him for the rest of the day.

Oh, ho! Yes, stopping in the middle of the day!

That's cuz this one has turned into another monster chapter,

and I've determined not to do them any more, 'cuz they take up too much time!

AND, there's plenty to enjoy right here!

And I want to spend more time on the second half.

OK – let me hear from you, my darlings!

Please: a soft word in my ear will make me feel so goooood!

Love you! Ahaha!