A/N: For the September 10th prompt - "Write about a time someone went too far." Rated T. Immediately follows A New Life.

I can't believe Ford thought I'd love and accept Sherlock just like that. Did he not know me at all? Oh God, I'm already thinking of him like he's gone… Molly swallowed hard then looked her brother-in-law square in the eye. "Tell me, Sherlock, while the two of you were planning all of this, did you even think about what will happen to his body?"

Sherlock sighed quietly. "Ford did think of that. In his, originally my, wallet is an emergency contact card, on it is the number of the mobile he gave me. If he's found with his wallet, I'll get a call."

"And if he's not, he'll be just another John Doe," she said quietly. God, I hope he doesn't end up in my morgue. I don't think I could handle unzipping a body bag and finding my husband's body in it. "He deserves better than that. I deserve better than that. After five years together, I deserve to have a body to bury."

"You do," he agreed. "I'll do everything I can to make sure we find him."

Feeling like she was about to cry, Molly just nodded.

He watched her for a moment. "How did you know it was me?"

"What?" she asked, confused.

"When I was walking up to the house."

"Oh. Ford's clothes fit him perfectly when he left this morning. They're looser on you."

"Consequence of being a junkie – I'd rather get a fix than a meal." She was about to protest when he added, "Don't worry, I'm clean and I intend to stay that way."

"How? If you go to rehab, it'll hurt Ford's … your reputation."

"Cold turkey and pure stubbornness." He smiled a bit. "Ford thought that would be enough, he knew how stubborn I can get."

"And when it's not?"

"We'll burn that bridge when we come to it."

"Sherlock…" She sighed heavily. "I also knew it was you because it was highly unlikely that Ford would've received a black eye at the bank."

His hand instinctively went to his eye and he winced. "Er, yeah, a couple of guys I owed money to decided to take their pound of flesh."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "Is that a Shakespeare reference? From a junkie?"

"Hey," Sherlock protested, smiling a bit. "I did go to uni. I even got my degree. My life didn't go to shite until after I started working at the bank. Some traders were doing lines to stay awake 24/7, I fell in with them but realized the high from cocaine was better than the high from making money. The rest is really boring history."

She was about to smile back but then she was struck by how he looked exactly like Ford and it all came crashing down again. "Sherlock, what you and Ford planned, it's … it's wrong and frankly, I hate you both for doing this to me … but I also know neither of you had a choice. I'll do it, I'll pretend you're him in public, but I'll be damned if I treat you like him in private. You're not Ford, you're not the man I love, and you never will be."

Sherlock regarded her for a moment then nodded. "I can't expect anything more from you, Molly. Emotionally, anyway. But you have to let me do everything for you that he did, the things that husbands normally do."

"Such as?" she asked warily.

"Taking you to your OB appointments, fixing things around the house, that kind of thing."

Molly swallowed hard. "You can do the rest, but you're not coming to the surgery with me. If Ford can't come, then no one will."

"Molly…" He took her hand but she snatched it back. "If the world believes I'm Ford, then it'll look weird if I'm not there with you for our first baby."

She wanted to scream at him, "It's not ours!" but she knew that would get her nowhere. "I'll think about it," she said quietly. Not knowing what else to do, she went to the kitchen.

Sherlock followed her. "We need to talk about this."

"We are talking," she said as she searched the fridge. No decent leftovers, I'll have to make something and I'm really not in the mood to cook.

"Let me get take-away then we can talk. Really talk."

She closed the refrigerator door then looked at him. "Again, we are really talking."

"Not about the things we should."

"Such as?"

"Tonight. We'll have to share a bed."

"No," she said immediately and firmly. "You're not Ford, you're not getting anywhere near me."

He groaned in frustration. "For God's sake, I'm not talking about sex right now, I'm talking about us sleeping in the same bed."

"The bed my husband and I have shared since we moved in together. No."

"Molly … for all intents and purposes, I'm your husband now."

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes," Molly said, her voice dangerously low, "if you ever, ever say that to me again, not only will I kill you and get away with it, I will make sure no one ever finds your body." She smirked. "At least, not all of it."

Sherlock stared at her, swallowing audibly. "Understood."

"Good." She took a deep breath then let it out slowly. "You were saying something about take-away?"

She had never seen anyone more eager to get away.