She never did lie (not really). Well, she had lied just now (to several). If she had lied in the past, and she wouldn't even call it lying – it wasn't lying, per say. She just had a tendency to neglect certain things. A small part of her would state that this was in fact something she had in common with Sherlock, except she was in a complete modus of hating the man despite brewing him a cup.

She did give him coffee.

Of course it was because she was a bit convinced she could possibly persuade him otherwise with the cuppa, but that proved to be a faulty theory. It was a fool's hope really, as she couldn't exactly get him to do what she wanted over the years. Even how many times she brewed for him, "Black with two sugars," which she said aloud, grimacing to herself, as she stirred the spoon in the cup.

It wasn't as if the moment she'd hand him the cup - that he'd suddenly feel compelled to sign the papers, which she anyway had in her handbag. She'd probably manage to spill coffee on the papers by accident, and seem even less serious than she actually were if she brought them along. Not that she didn't feel tempted to throw the coffee on his crisp clean purple shirt, but she compelled herself not to. Instead she'd acted happily about it, pretending that him meeting Michael wasn't a problem, as it in fact was.

She had not mentioned Sherlock to Michael, or well she had made it known that she knew of Sherlock Holmes; the figure that appeared quite often on the front of newspapers. But it seemed too difficult to bring the man up in fact, for when she tried she couldn't entirely feel that she could leave out the rest of the information. That would shed more light on certain aspects she hoped to forget. Though she could have told Michael that she worked with Sherlock, at least, and ignore the bit of assisting him with faking his death.

A fact that none really knew of. She wasn't even positively sure that John even knew, really. For when Sherlock appeared a year ago – no one assumed that the genius detective hadn't done everything alone.

The problem with this being known is that it would make another more difficult fact come to light; one that she'd been pretending never took place.

A fact her dear barrister Karen, who'd swished her red hair had suddenly pondered about; after Molly had frantically talked her into seeing her post-breakfast, after the phone calls had been too difficult to understand.

Molly started to wonder if the woman even wanted her to get a divorce. The majority of the time Karen seemed amused by the whole event, really, and so Molly had appeared, ever hoping that the upcoming evaluation would just be a thing of nightmares.

Except, it was evident that, that was just a dream.

"If you haven't lived with him for the last five years, of course, that's a way out of it," her lawyer had admitted to her, after Molly had almost started to tear up where she was sat, "But – well – that can prove to be a bit difficult."

It was as if Karen had taken the words out of her mouth. She was very right at that, which caught Molly by surprise, "Sorry – how – how do you know about that?"

"Oh, thank God," said Karen with a cheery smile, "I suddenly thought this was one of those things, you didn't know about again. Good lord, what a laugh I'd have then."

Molly blinked furiously at this, "What are you talking about?"

Karen's dazzling smile fell, "Oh God. This Sherlock Holmes is a bit cheekier than one would suppose, really."

John couldn't manage to drink the cup of coffee, it had been in his hands for what seemed to be hours, staying there, getting colder by the second, and reminding him of what his friend had just done. What his friend had done and neglected to mention too. His friend who said he wasn't into distractions of any kind, considering them silly, and not even something he'd be willing to study. Of course, now, however John started to wonder if all the evidence wasn't pointing into a certain direction.

"John, do drink your cup of coffee or dispense of it in the sink. It is getting rather distracting, or better yet leave it. It might be interesting to study the moulding after some weeks," said Sherlock after what had been hours of silence on his part. The man was now occupying the kitchen, with one of his studies, John could only assume.

At least Sherlock wasn't playing the blasted violin anymore, which he'd picked up the minute Molly had left the flat, making it near impossible for John to sleep again – not that his mind wasn't already filled with thousands of questions, that would have kept him awake if unanswered.

Mostly, the question that re-appeared was "Why?"

John snorted, leaving his seat in the living room, throwing the brown liquid in the kitchen sink, before he then proceeded to stand rather awkwardly in the kitchen.

"What?" said Sherlock not looking up from his microscope.

"How long have you known?" said John finally deciding on what question was appropriate.

"For some time."

"For some time – being what exactly?"

"Six years," his friend drawled, with a slow smirk appearing on his face.

John raised his brows, "Did you want to marry her?"

"Assumptions, John - a faulty one at that," said Sherlock, looking fleetingly up from his studies, "No, I did not," he said after John's look of disbelief, "Mycroft congratulated me on my nuptials, making me aware of the fact that our clergyman, had by fault registered our papers. Despite me having informed him of the situation at hand. He did seem a bit upset of the fact that we were lying in a church, but I did tell him that most people do these days."

John almost wondered if it had been a crude joke on the clergyman's part, really, "Right," he said, but didn't shift from the kitchen.

Sherlock took to look up properly now, eyeing his friend, "And I suppose your next line of questioning is why I said no to the divorce?"

"You picked up on that, good," said John mock-seriously, before narrowing his eyes at his friend, "Sherlock, you can't just deny her a divorce – she's actually engaged to someone else – an actual engagement."

"She was married to me first - I am aware of some of my rights," said Sherlock with a smile, before bending down again to peer through the microscope.

"Funny – real funny, Sherlock, but I know for a fact that it's possible for Molly to get a divorce without your consent," said John smugly crossing his arms over his chest.

Sherlock quirked a brow, "Oh – yes - I know."

John started, "You know? Wait – Sherlock, what do you mean you know?" he said in surprise.

"Mrs Holmes," said Karen, which caused Molly to feel sick, "Sorry, Miss Hooper, I suppose – well – I've been digging. Since I found the case fascinating to say the least, and I came across your lease."

The lease?

Suddenly she was handed a file, which she took staring at it bewildered. Yes, she'd signed the lease to her flat, ages ago, "Yes, well, you can find that I found it a bit curious, really, since you didn't know about this – I thought you were here looking to sort things out really, and well – your landlord gave me papers that didn't really fit, with the rest."

Molly opened the manila file, staring at the lease, which had her signature on it, and Sherlock's.

She stared at it horrified, "What?"

Karen frowned, "I suppose you aren't aware of the fact that – your – err – husband has been paying for half of your rent, since you began living in your current residency?"

After that Molly had gone to work feeling if nothing else, but overwhelmed. Why on earth had he been paying half of her rent? She remembered when she started at Bart's how she'd struggled to find a flat in London, camping out at a friends, while in search of something decent – near Bart's, and she had voiced these anxieties needlessly to Sherlock, so she thought.

When she'd now rung her landlord asking about the whole ordeal, he'd flatly denied it, until he guilty came forth with the whole story.

Apparently, her husband – had informed him that she was searching for a flat, and his was the perfect one for her, but he didn't want her to know he was aiding her in this – since she couldn't afford it on her own (as they had an arrangement). Molly had just assumed she'd been very lucky, when Sherlock had suggested a flat to her, at her price-range, and she'd given it a look-see. A part of her wondered if this was why Sherlock, not long after needed a flat-share, and had asked her if she enjoyed living alone. Since it certainly started to look like that. This was even right before they'd gotten married, and before John Watson was in the picture.

It didn't take her long to renegotiate a new lease, as she definitively could afford the flat now, without any help from her would-be husband.

And for one minute she'd believed Karen had been insinuating to her on and off roommate for about three years. Suddenly she understood the importance of baring all. Not that she wasn't one for informing people of the goings on in her life, but she didn't feel that piece of history was worthy bringing up. Sherlock had caught her, on her lie, as she'd stood before him announcing, "We haven't lived together." She'd almost corrected herself, but didn't feel it was the time for that. There were other things to worry about, but apparently this lay in the root of the problem itself. The fact that he'd been in hiding, in her flat, for about three years was an important piece of the puzzle. Not that he had stayed there full on. Some days she'd wake without him there, and suddenly he'd be back cluttering up her flat with his things.

This was what she got for being nice.

It all explained so many things, from the way Sherlock felt the need to re-arrange some of her things, even bringing oddities into her flat, and even removing some of her furniture, which he'd found "Displeasing to the eye." She'd always assumed that it was in fact just Sherlock-type behaviour.

Well, partly it was, but she'd never assumed he'd in fact pay for her to stay. When she'd been worried about finding a flat, she'd also been anxious that she wouldn't manage to keep her spot at Bart's, if she didn't find a place she could call suitably home. This was without a doubt all about him – every single bit of it, as she was certain he'd wanted her around – for she was compliant to his every need (as he'd told her, not so much in those words, when he'd advised her of the flat).

She now wished she'd tossed the coffee on his shirtfront. It was either that, or his face. The only way out of the whole ordeal was with his bloody signature. Given to her only, if Michael was good enough, after his own rating.

She really hoped that wasn't his plan, all along, but even Sherlock couldn't be that devious? Could he? It was just so odd. Why on earth had he done it, really? The other question being, the most important of them all, and the one her mind kept reeling over – why on earth had he not divorced her when he'd found out? Even how many times, she tried to understand how he had benefitted – it made absolutely no sense. Then again, there probably was no sense to be made of.

There were certain things John had managed to understand about his friend. For one, that no matter how much Sherlock tried to conceal it – he did in fact have a heart. Several things done supported this theory, even if John sometimes doubted it, especially when it came to Molly. She had always seemed to irritate him, yet Sherlock always seemed to have the best of interest for her, though he didn't show it like any ordinary man. Other men gave flowers – he paid for half of her rent, and while others gave helpful advice on how to handle their current boyfriend – he was going to evaluate hers, before signing the divorce papers.

If the whole Irene Adler debacle had taught him anything; it was that nothing went down, as it should with Sherlock. So, when Sherlock had related to him the whole business, as to why he was so certain that Molly couldn't divorce him; John knew, he just knew he liked her, more than liked her, or so he hoped.

It was difficult to know with him, the man wasn't exactly easy to read, but the mountain of evidence was clear. For the night Sherlock had started to play the violin so incessantly, until the crack of dawn; without any stopping – was when Molly had suddenly gotten engaged (so Mrs Hudson had informed him; she was up-to date on Molly's love life apparently).

He would think it a coincidence, hadn't it been for the fact that Sherlock had brought the violin forth again after their argument, even if the man had seemed pleased at first, it was evident that not all was well. Sherlock did of course play, often, but not at such great lengths – and not pieces that sounded so intense either. They didn't have a case, so it couldn't be that, all of his little side-projects were doing fine, so this remained. This little significant thought, that maybe – just maybe – there was more to it all.

John was now standing right besides Sherlock, with his arms crossed, trying to seem irritated (granted he was, a little), "Are you telling me that – that you paid - so she could stay at Bart's?" he said hoping that maybe his friend would catch on.

"She is a highly competent pathologist," Sherlock said.

Obviously not, "You mean she listens to you," said John rather carefully.

"Yes, John, or else I wouldn't see much reason to have her around," said Sherlock a bit gruffly, clearly annoyed by the questioning, which he rightfully deserved.

John sincerely doubted that was the only reason however.

"So you - found her a flat?" John asked.

"She had given certain specifics of her requirements. Not a very difficult task, but over her price range."

"So you – bribed her landlord?" John asked.

"Of course."

"OK – and you've been paying for her, ever since?"

"Obviously, John," said Sherlock with a sigh.

John pursed his lips, pausing thoughtfully, "OK," he said, before returning to the living room. He wondered, as he gently sat himself back in the chair if his friend would -

"What – is that it?" Sherlock suddenly said moving away from the microscope now.

John turned to look at him, "Sorry?" and tried very hard to conceal the smile on his face, "What's wrong, then? Can't I be OK, about this?"

"You've been asking me questions for about half an hour, I would expect a bit more of an overreaction than that."

"No, why should I react to that, really?" said John with a shrug, taking to pick a paper up, rifling through it – feeling Sherlock's eyes staring at the back of his head.

"Oh please – obviously you're trying to make this more than it is," spat Sherlock all of a sudden.

John dropped the paper, grinned a bit to himself, before putting on a serious expression, as he faced his friend again, "OK – then – answer this – simple question – considering, how come you didn't divorce her, then?"

At this Sherlock's expression was rather stony.

Gotcha, John thought, not hiding his smile anymore.

"Mycroft told mother," said Sherlock in such a way that resembled a puppy being kicked with a boot. It was rather unsettling.

The other Mrs Holmes obviously, that John had only heard tales of really; a woman that Sherlock was obviously fond of and who Mycroft Holmes was overly fond of, "He told your mum?" he said startled.

"Yes," said Sherlock, who without missing a beat settled down by his microscope, seeming on the edge now.

John stared, that really was below the belt, "I suppose she was happy?" he said with a furrow of his brows.

"Quite - yes," said Sherlock peering into his microscope now.

"But your mum knows that you and I share a flat, right?" John asked a bit baffled.

"Yes, she just assumes that Molly and I have an arrangement," said Sherlock who seemed to snort at the idea.

Later on John found himself compelled to check the sources, a thing he'd started to do after the whole Kitty Riley incident, and so he rang Mycroft. The man told him, "I never informed mummy about that, it wouldn't give her cause to cheer, I promise you."

John pitied Michael.

A/N: Being a law-o-biding citizen (to a certain extent), I'd like to thank rilakjenya for her comment about the law, which gave fuel to the fire, more or less. I had some knowledge of how things worked, but not enough. Funnily enough, this certainly worked to my advantage, and I hope you liked how this chapter turned out.

A great big thank you, to ALL OF YOU for your delightful comments! They do indeed cheer me on, an awful lot. Thank you for the follows and favourites. I do hope you continue reading, and enjoying.