It's me again! I cannot begin to thank you all for the response to the last chapter, what a birthday present ^_^ Just as a reminder, I'm trying very hard to keep this non-Sherlolly for now (not sure to what extent i'm succeeding?), but the sequel definitely will be Sherlolly! I reckon this will be around 42 chapters in length, so we're hitting the back straight now. Thank you all and enjoy :)

P is for Privacy

Molly had not long got in from work dinner was in the oven and she was having a shower, scrubbing off the scent of death and solvents. Tom was sat on the sofa, engrossed in some television programme about fish. After her shower Molly would normally serve dinner, and then read while Tom continued watching inane television based around various specimens of the animal kingdom. That was unless Sherlock burst in with some ridiculous request. Molly secretly wished he'd appear more often, there were only so many repeats on discovery channel she could listen to. She almost began to miss the days where she could spend the evenings talking about her day to Toby or flicking through journals. It wasn't that Tom disapproved of such activities, it was more his ability to look sick at the mere mention of her job. Molly sighed and finished washing her hair, she was about to step out of the shower when a head appeared through the window, Sherlock had come to visit after all.

"Have you no sense of privacy?!" She hissed, he blinked and deftly climbed into the small bathroom.

"I need somewhere to hide; the rest of your flat is bugged." Sherlock whispered, shuffling closer to Molly,

"Why here?" She replied equally as quietly, hiding behind the shower curtain,

"Mycroft's after me," Sherlock said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He handed her a towel, and even has the good grace to turn around as she stepped out of the shower (a taught behaviour, there may have been coffee related threats the last time he didn't).

"What have you done this time?" She asked in a whisper, getting a towel to dry her hair while Sherlock tried to find a place to sit down that wasn't soggy, and failing. Molly smirked to herself at the small frown on his face and dried off the edge of the bath for him before returning to the mess of auburn that constituted her hair. She ought to be more careful with what she wished for, hiding Sherlock in her bathroom was unlikely to do anything to relieve the monotony of what awaited her once she walked out of the door. She could only hope that Tom did not decide that he needed to use the bathroom in the next half hour or so, otherwise she was actually giving life to one of Anderson's theories, that man should write books with his imagination!

"He wants me to have dinner with our parents, something about how he took them to the theatre so I have to take them to dinner." Sherlock whined, pulling a face like a sulky teenager. Molly glared at him and put her finger on her lips- the universal sign for shut up. This was not going to be tenable, he would not be gone before Tom found him, and she did not have the energy for that battle tonight.

"I'm not hiding you from your parents!" She said forcefully in low tones, if he was just hiding from Mycroft that would be fun, but parents were a whole other kettle of fish.

"Please, it's torture," Sherlock whispered, almost begging. It was quite something to behold, but alas, Molly knew Tom would get suspicious if she was in the bathroom any longer.

"NO!" She exclaimed, hoping to blame the sudden noise on her hairdryer later.

"I'll take you to Rome," He said quickly, he really hadn't anticipated the conversation going on this long, and the longer it ran the more likely they were to get caught. A small part of him really wanted Tom to walk in now, just for the ensuing chaos, but unfortunately that was not his aim for this evening, maybe another night.

"What?" Molly asked quietly, taken aback by the strangeness of the offering.

"If you hide me successfully, I will take you away to Rome- an extra Molly's Day if you will." Sherlock explained in his best patronising voice, which would have been a lot more condescending if he hadn't almost fallen in the bath half way through the sentence.

"You can't be that desperate," Molly replied, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

He merely nodded; she rolled her eyes and nodded in reply. Having finished drying herself and attending to her hair, she vacated the bathroom wrapped in the towel. The next couple of hours passed without anything of note, they had dinner, washed up, Molly was just about tuning out fly-fishing with Mr Darcy and the doorbell rang. Tom got up and opened the door,

"Hello Tom, is Molly here?" John asked, as polite as someone who is furious can be. Tom pointed to the sofa, letting John storm into the flat.

"Where is he?" John snapped, hands balled into fists by his sides. He knew it wasn't fair to take it out on Molly, but he had not had the greatest of evenings.

"Who?" Molly asked innocently, when John started shaking with anger she carried on, trying not to laugh, "You'd know if he was here, Mycroft has the flat bugged."

"He's got to be here, there's nowhere else he'd go. You've got to help me Molls, Mycroft is getting unbearable, well, more so than usual anyway," John ran a hand through his hair in frustration, Sherlock hunting was one of his least favourite activities.

"Can't help you John, he doesn't always come here when he needs somewhere to hide- have you tried behind the clock face of big ben, he likes it there," Molly tried to get him out of the flat quickly, it only took one ill-timed sneeze or a bathroom visit from Tom and she would be found out. She really didn't want to be caught lying to John again.

"We've looked everywhere; this is the only bolthole left." He sounded almost frantic, his hands gesticulating wildly to release some of the tension he felt.

"Why is it so desperate anyway?" Molly asked curiously, knowing Sherlock rarely gave her the whole truth.

"It's his mother's birthday, and Mycroft promised that one of them would be there. He's supposedly got a well-timed meeting with the prime minister." John explained quickly, Molly rolled her eyes in response

"Convenient." She stated coolly,

There was a sharp knock on the door, and John opened it to find Sherlock's parents standing outside, after a brief introduction to Molly and Tom, Mrs Holmes surreptitiously winked at Molly out of the corner of her eye,

"Sherlock!" She called his name with such a level of motherly discipline that both Molly and John winced. John had his fingers crossed that if he happened to be in the vicinity he'd have the intelligence to come out of hiding. Molly was just hoping that he'd have the sense not to come through the bathroom door. Apparently not.

"Fine, I'll go." Sherlock's voice boomed throughout the flat as he threw open the bathroom door in a huff worthy of an 8 year old. He walked through the lounge towards his parents, but not getting quite close enough that his mother could inflict any damage to him, he hoped.

"How did you get in the bathroom?" Tom asked, breaking the awkward silence that had followed the dramatics. Sherlock rolled his eyes,

"Window. Obviously." He replied, not bothering to look at the person whose question he was answering. Now he could have a little fun.

"You were in the shower!" Tom exclaimed, very slowly putting two and two together

"Not the most compromising position she's been caught in." Sherlock muttered loudly enough for everyone to hear,

"Sherlock, behave." His mother scolded, "We haven't had a chance to thank you for everything you've done, Molly, I was hoping you'd come to dinner with us this evening but it's too late now," she glared pointedly at Sherlock "Would you care to join us for a drink? All of you,"

"We'd be delighted." John replied, before either Molly or Tom could begin another argument.

As they were saying goodbye later that evening Mrs Holmes pulled Molly into a hug and said quietly into her ear:

"Rome was my idea by the way,"