AN: Hey guys, thanks for all the support this story is receiving, I couldn't do it without you guys motivating me. Not used to writing a story on the fly like this, so sorry it's a bit longer between updates than I usually do. Anyway, onto the story.

Their honeymoon consisted of a two day visit to Calais. Any longer and Sherlock would have been itching to get back to a case, but as it was, Sherlock was more relaxed than Molly had ever seen him. That was, until they returned to London. The closer they got to Baker Street the tenser he became, his hand gripping hers a little tighter than necessary, as his eyes rapidly scanned the streets outside. When they reached the flat he dashed up the stairs ahead of her, and she could hear him banging around through every room above as she slowly climbed with their bags. When she reached the top he re-entered the stairway, about to rush up to John's old room, but she caught his wrist to stop him.

"Sherlock?"

"Sorry, just uh… tidying. Didn't get much of a chance before, couldn't have you coming home to a dump though. And of course we need to make room for your things…" He babbled, his smile wide but not reaching his eyes, which still flicked up to John's room, before down to the bags in her hands. "Here, let me take those, I'll just put them up here for now-"

He snatched the bags out of her hands and started up the stairs with them, until Molly called him back with a serious tone.

"Sherlock!"

He looked back and then his eyes widened, dropping the bags on the step in front of him then rushing back down to her.

"Sorry, I forgot…" He swooped her up into his arms before she could protest, taking two long strides into the living room and putting her down again. "Welcome to your new home, Mrs Holmes." He announced warmly, giving her a quick, passionate kiss before turning away again. "Now if you'll excuse me just a moment…" And with that he hurried back out the room and up the staircases, forgetting the bags. Molly let him go with a sigh, waiting for his return to question him on it.

"No-one hiding in any of the bedrooms?" She asked pointedly as he thudded down the stairs and back into the living room.

He opened his mouth, clearly about to deny it, but then thought better of it. "Apparently not." He replied truthfully, going to the window and easing the net curtains aside to peer cautiously out. Molly walked up behind him, carefully wrapping her arms around him and leaning her head on his back.

"What's gotten into you Sherlock? You were fine while we were away, now you're more wired than ever."

Sherlock let the net curtains drop closed with a sigh, enjoying the embrace a second before pulling out of it to turn around and face her, his face serious but trying to be gentle.

"By now Moriarty is probably aware of our marriage. No doubt he's already plotting the best way to turn it against me; to hurt me through you. What was I thinking?" he muttered to himself, looking away from her as the hurt flashed over her face.

"You… you're regretting marrying me already?" She asked in shock, her eyes tearing up as she took a step back away from him, wanting to run away.

Sherlock's eyes whipped back to her at the movement, and he stepped into the gap, pulling her back to him.

"Not like that. Never like that. But your safety is my primary concern, and I… I fear this may have only made things worse rather than better."

"If anyone can keep me safe it's you." She murmured against his chest.

"Even against him?" he questioned "Molly, you know how close he came last time to beating me. Even without the help of his network-"

"Which you destroyed. Alone."

"He's still a very dangerous man." Sherlock finished.

Molly hesitated, feeling the weight of his words, but refusing to let them crush her.

"If he really is back." She muttered.

Sherlock pulled back in surprise, his eyebrows pulling together.

"You don't believe he's back?!"

Molly shrugged, avoiding his eyes awkwardly.

"I did at first, y'know when I saw him on the TV. But… Sherlock you said he put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger, there is no surviving that. Even if he fired a blank it would still have done too much damage, I've seen cases of it myself. I just don't see how he could have faked it, especially not in front of you, you'd have noticed anything off."

Sherlock closed his eyes at this, his expression screwed up in regret.

"I did." He said in anguish.

Molly's mouth fell open, staring again in shock.

"You did?"

"Not at the time obviously." Sherlock's eyes opened and he snapped back into his usually detached demeanour as he explained it. "I was too distracted, too busy trying to figure out my next move -which plan to put into action to save myself and the others- to see what was in front of me. But my mind palace stored it in perfect detail: every sound, every sight, every smell. It was only when he came back that I went back and examined those details and realised what was missing."

"What?" Molly whispered, goosebumps rising on her arms in fear of the threat that now felt very real.

"The smell of gunpowder. Subtle enough that it was easy to miss, but very telling in its absence. You're right that a blank would kill him, and of course I'd recognise a fake gun… but a real gun with modified contents?" He couldn't help but smile in admiration at the simple trick "Clever, very clever. Probably some kind of Hydrogen compound – makes a lot of noise when ignited, but not too explosive. Probably would have singed a bit, but not deadly. The blood I'm sure was his own, but likely drawn before and stored. Who did his autopsy?"

"Uh I.. I don't remember, I was busy with you." Molly explained "But… I suppose it would have been Myers or Daniels."

"Hmm… I suppose I'll have to get a good look at both of them to deduce who." Sherlock mused.

"Well it wouldn't be too hard to call you in one day when Daniels is in, but Myers doesn't work at Barts anymore he-"

"Got a better job offer at another hospital not long after I left?" Sherlock supplied for her.

"Yeah!" Molly agreed, surprised she hadn't thought it more suspicious at the time.

"He's dead." Sherlock callously announced. "Of course Moriarty couldn't let him live knowing that he was still alive, one doesn't become a consulting criminal by leaving loose ends like that."

Molly gasped in shock, feeling behind her for Sherlock's armchair and sinking down into it shakily. That explained why he hadn't replied to her text asking how the new job was going. The fact she'd worked so close with one of Moriarty's people made the danger so much realer and closer to home, it was hard to deal with. Sherlock noticed her distress and walked round to crouch in front of her, eyes serious as they fixed on hers.

"Do you regret marrying me yet?" The question held no infection, his face perfectly detached and calm. And yet Molly could see straight through the mask, to the vulnerability lurking there.

"Never" She whispered, leaning forward to hold him tightly "I don't think I've ever needed you more."