When John reached out to give Sherlock the newly purchased babyliss, he received the highest sneer imaginable.
- You are exaggerating. - was the only answer he received.
- I'm not. We're trying to convince a good girl to let us cremate bodies without asking questions, we need you to be on your best appearance. You've done something far worse to a cover, and what we are doing is not more than that.
To take advantage of the wireless babyliss' heat before he had to put it on the base again, John began to retouch the natural curls himself. Sherlock thought about protesting, but stayed in his chair. They had spent the entire day choosing clothes and thinking of what to say to Molly, what was even more difficult than killing the Golem last night. John was happy to have finally been able to shoot that monster, and Sherlock's bad humor couldn't spoil it.
- If Mycroft discover that you bought it with my card, he will never stop mocking me. I shouldn't have let you go to the market alone.
If Mycroft knew Sherlock occasionally walked around the city thinking he was John while believing himself to be at home thinking, he certainly would take a attitude. But even without any sanity, Sherlock was still able to fool his brother without even trying.
- The curls match your face, and if you didn't insist on tousling them while sleeping, you wouldn't have to use it. Now be quiet, it's terribly difficult to work with such small clusters.
Sherlock was still sneezing after the amount of perfume and aftershave that John forced him to use, so being quiet wasn't exactly easy.
- I told you you're overreacting. You know she is madly in love with me. I could appear only wearing a potato sack and still she would do whatever I asked. You might even think that I know nothing about love, but the chemistry is pretty simple. And her eyes dilate so much every time she sees me that sometimes seem totally black.
John laughed at the notion of love of his colleague, as he finished the hairstyle. They couldn't risk being denounced, so he continued with the housekeeping. After an hour they were ready to leave. The Golem was stored in small and practical packages, of no more than ten kilograms each. Once Molly agreed to help them, they could get rid of his pieces.
Sherlock entered the room almost like a ghost. When Molly turned, she was so disturbed by his presence that she almost tripped over one of the bodies. He was simply wonderful. There was nothing particularly spectacular in his appearance and his clothes were the same as always, but the little details of zeal and care made a stupendous difference. For a moment, she thought her heart would stop, but then she became convinced that she should calm down. Except that not all of her self-control could prevent her heart from shooting when Sherlock approached slowly and placed both hands on the table behind her, one on each side of Molly's body.
- This shade of lipstick fits you more than the previous. Red enhances your skin. - seeing that Molly seemed unable to formulate any coherent thought, Sherlock continued. – It's a waste to let such beauty stuck here where no one can appreciate. You should get out more.
- You think? - Molly could muster enough courage to ask.
- Of course! Certain things shouldn't be hidden from the world. I bet you would look lovely in a beautiful evening gown.
Turning her face, Molly whispered: "I don't have any special occasion..."
- Bullshit. Any occasion can be special, even a simple dinner, when you have the right company.
Sherlock was finding it difficult to continue with the performance, especially since John was sitting next to Molly, leaning on the table, trying to hold back his laughter. Now was Sherlock who was exaggerating, but he wanted to get rid of her ASAP. If he could talk with John without being heard by Molly he would say "checkmate in two."
- Would y-you like to have dinner with m-me? That would certainly make the night special. I mean, not that I'm saying...
Sherlock did his best I-really-wish-that-I-could-do-that-but-I-have-an-urgent-engagement-which-would-be-impossible-to-get-rid-of face as John started laughing loudly, almost falling off the table. If Sherlock wasn't a consultant detective, he could just as easily be an actor.
- Oh, Molly. I really wish I could go, but I need to make a very important experience, a man's life depends on it. If only I had a more powerful furnace, I could end it sooner and still have time for dinner, but I would need enough heat to turn bones into powder. – he spoke lamenting, with the last sentence in joking tone.
- You could use the morgue's furnace. If you want, I can borrow you the keys to the room. I mean, you would have to return everything the way it is. And of course you can't burn bodies there.
- Certainly. I would be so grateful to accept. If you give me the keys now, I can give then back to you at nine at dinner.
Nervous and shaking, she gave him the keys. And as subtly as he had come, Sherlock left.
- I wonder if Mycroft has some tape of you in a school play or something. - John commented while taking the packages with parts of the Golem. - You really have a talent for acting.
- It's blackmail material. I played a nine lives mage in the adaptation of a children's book, I was the only one high enough. And no, you can't see it. I've never been so humiliated in all my life, I had to use flashy robes, and a long sleeve. It's better not to remember.
- Pity. I would like to see it. We better end soon with the cremation, the process is slow.
And so they found a great way to get rid of the bodies.