Thank you again for all your support, here's another update for you to enjoy!

Note: Jelly here refers to 'British jelly' i.e. wobbly desert that is nothing like jam :)

J is for Jelly and Justice

For the few days after the jam flinging incident all was quiet, and disturbingly so. One could argue it had been because Tom hadn't mentioned anything negative about Molly's male friends, but it was more likely that the novelty had worn off on the few members of homeless network paid to undertake the ridiculous operation. Molly was sure Sherlock was just biding his time, a bit of jam was a drop in the ocean compared to what he was capable of, and she wished Tom would realise that. Then again, pigs may fly. She opened the front door to her flat and jumped when she saw what looked like a corpse on her dining table (again). Upon closer inspection it transpired that it was indeed a corpse- but made entirely out of jelly. She rolled her eyes, picked up her coat and left the flat, she most certainly did not want to be in when Tom saw that. Molly walked along to the nearest supermarket and decided that now was definitely the right time to do some shopping, she wasn't sure what they needed and had no list, but it would distract her for a good hour or so while she waited for a high pitched scream and a phone call.

Sherlock was also waiting for a phone call, one where he would finally solve the problem of Mrs Hodges untimely death. It also happened to coincide with leaving a lot of jelly on Molly's dining room table, person shaped jelly, made up of differing brands and flavours to substantiate (or destroy) the husband's alibi. If he was honest with himself, he'd say that he wasn't interested in the alibi as much as watching the reaction to the jelly corpse on the webcam feed from her flat he'd hacked into. John and Greg knew nothing of his secondary revenge plan, but from the look on Molly's face when she'd seen the creation he'd left, she knew exactly why it was there. He sighed to himself, this likely meant there would be some sort of attempt at reconciliation between himself and Tom at some point soon which was wholly unnecessary in his opinion. The other man just needed to be less of a weed. As much as he wanted Molly to be happy, he could see the toll that her fiancée not getting on with her friends was having on her- and he knew it wasn't just him. He was being very thoughtful, holding his tongue, not turning up unannounced (too often) and he'd returned her irritating feline on many occasions. He was certainly holding up his side of the friendship.

Mycroft was also watching the video feed, he was rather curious about how his brother's warped version of justice would go down- especially given the likelihood of cake turning up. Mycroft had studied Molly's relationship with Sherlock over the years, and had developed a scale of how 'not good' his brother had been that day by what cake she would bake and how quickly she's eat it. If he wasn't mistaken (which he rarely was) the interference of her having to deal with Tom this evening would prevent cake from happening, she would be more likely to resort to the ice-cream she'd just purchased. He used to enjoy the days Molly brought ice-cream, as it meant she would make a wonderful baked Alaska, but there was not the time for that this evening. The guiding hand of Whitehall decided his guidance may be required elsewhere tonight, and quickly. He called for a car to go to Molly's flat via Baker Street.

Anyone walking past the unassuming block of flats that evening would have heard what sounded like a 5 year old girl screaming at the sight of a spider. Unbeknownst to them, it was a 30 year old male, terrified by jelly, whilst in an expensive black car outside two men sat snickering as they watched a live feed on a laptop that contained enough secrets to bring down 46 governments worldwide. They were brought crashing down to Earth by a sharp knock on the window,

"Why is that thing on my table?!" Molly hissed, glaring at the brothers as if they were both to blame,

"It has nothing to do with me," Mycroft said indignantly, closing the lid of the laptop briskly.

"Which is least stable?" Sherlock asked, opening the door and nearly knocking her flying. Luckily for him, Molly regained her balance quickly otherwise he may have found some of the jelly in places he'd rather not have it…

"I don't know! Why is it there?!" Molly half-shouted, storming off up the stairs to find her fiancé sat outside the front door looking very pale. "Get up!" She shouted at him, so he did, mostly out of shock. She marched him inside, and they were followed almost instantly by Sherlock and Mycroft.

"Just as I suspected, the husband is perfectly innocent." Sherlock exclaimed after looking over the jelly briefly.

"What? How?" Tom stuttered, barely able to get a word out, let alone a coherent sentence.

"I poisoned the jelly with the same compound they found in Mrs Hodges stomach, he couldn't have killed her as poisoning her jelly would have destroyed the structure, it wouldn't have set and she couldn't have eaten it!" Sherlock explained, the customary smug grin plastered on his face. It was very short lived however, as Molly wasn't too pleased with the development of poisoned jelly on her table. "I've already bought you another table, it's being delivered tomorrow," He added hastily, knowing the high probability of the table being contaminated beyond safe toxicity levels. Mycroft rolled his eyes, it was a good job he was irreplaceable, if anyone got wind of his expenses he'd most likely have a battle on his hands, and a dirty one at that, to clear his name.

"May I make a suggestion?" The older man said in his best politician voice, but before he'd finished his sentence, Sherlock had interrupted him.

"No."

"I wasn't asking you," Responded Mycroft- they may be older, wiser and balder (in his case) than when they were children, but sometimes he couldn't stop the almost automatic sentence that passed his lips.

"Go ahead Mycroft," Molly said flatly, knowing he'd do it anyway, and at least they may vacate her home quicker this way.

"I believe 'team-building' exercises are supposed to be good for bringing people together, I've booked enough slots for you all. Anthea has sent you the details," Mycroft stated before disappearing quietly out of the front door. Molly grimaced and checked her email on her phone,

"It looks like we're going paintballing," She proclaimed, it looked like she'd get her justice after all.