A/N :: Oh hello there! Thanks for coming back and for first time readers thanks for tuning in. I hope I rock your socks as I try my hand at a little Sherlock-y deduction magic. With that being said Geronimo!

Molly was so busy analyzing the biopsy results of her latest autopsied corpse that she didn't hear the sound of the morgue's door opening or notice the tall figure who had entered through it.

"Hello Molly," said a familiar baritone voice that startled her from her reprieve.

Molly shrieked, placed her hand over her frantically beating heart and turned around to give Sherlock a glare. "Sherlock, are you trying to give me heart attack?"

"No. If I was trying to give you heart attack, I would have injected you with potassium chloride. The potassium would affect the electrical conduction of your heart, causing severe cardiac arrhythmias resulting in heart spasms and eventual cardiac arrest. It would certainly be a much more effective way of killing you than attempting to scare you to death.

"Uh-huh, well I highly doubt you came all this way just to talk about the most efficient ways to end my life so what can I do for you?"

"Ah yes. I'm here because I need you to help me with John's stag party. I plan to take him for drinks at all the places that we have found dead corpses but I want us to remain comfortably buzzed without getting ill. Which is where you come in; I need you to figure how to keep us in the sweet spot."

Molly couldn't help feeling a little disappointed but tried not to show it. "Sounds …entertaining. It's going to take me some time to figure out the math," she said as Sherlock sits down on the stool next to her. "You know you don't need to stay. I can text you the numbers when I'm finished."

"No. I want to stay."

Molly rolled her eyes, "Right, of course you'll want to check over my calculations."

"No, I trust you Molly. I'm staying because I like watching you work, it helps me think." He said quietly before closing his eyes with his hands steepled under his chin making it clear that he was no longer interested in talking.

Molly looked at him with surprise before turning to focus on the task at hand.

Well that's just great. Just when I thought I was getting over him he shows up for the first time in weeks and says something like that. Oh who am I kidding? Considering what I've spent my nights doing since his return, not being around him has done absolutely nothing to alter my feelings for him.

As Molly worked she could feel the signs of warm blush creeping into her cheeks as she recalled the numerous nights she spent alone thinking about all the things she would do to a very naked Sherlock Holmes.

God Molly now is not the time! It's not a good time to be imagining the gorgeous man sitting next to you naked especially when said man happens to be close enough for you to reach out and run your fingers through his beautiful dark curls. No, that is definitely not a good idea. I doubt that Sherlock would respond too kindly and I know Tom would not be a fan. You remember Tom right? He's your fiancé.

Molly cringed. She had completely forgotten about Tom, the man she had said "yes" to when he asked if she would be willing to spend the rest of her life with him. Since the night of their horrible date, Molly went out of her way to avoid being alone with Tom. It was pretty easy to do since he worked in Oxford and only came up to London on weekends and holidays.

When he does make the trip, Molly makes excuses about having to work. She's made this excuse so often that she actually started to take extra shifts at Bart's in order to feel less guilty about lying. So now she only had to feel guilty for what she did and who she thought about when she came home after work.

Molly silently vowed to stop her solo sextra-curricular activities, to put Sherlock out of her mind and give her heart completely to Tom and be the fiancée he deserved. She let out a sigh as she does the last of the calculations and sneaks a sideways glance at the man she blamed for her relationship woes only to find Sherlock looking at her questioningly.

"I'm sorry did you say something?"

"Yes. How's Tom?"

"Oh. He's good, we're not having a bit of sex but other than that everything is great," Molly rambled nervously.

"That's fairly obvious."

Molly looked at him, the confusion evident on her face, "What's obvious?"

"It's clear that you and Tom aren't having sex because if you were you wouldn't need to spend so much time masturbating."

"H-how…I mean what…w-wh-why would you say that?" Molly cried, flustered as a dark red blush made its way into her cheeks.

"Your nails…" he said as he gestured towards Molly's hands. "…they're manicured. Considering your utter lack of personal style you obviously didn't get them done for the sake of vanity which means they must serve some practical purpose. Since you spend your days with your gloved hands, deep in the body cavities of the decreased it's unlikely that your maintained nails help you do your job with increased efficiency. The only other place where manicured nails would be beneficial to you is in your private life. That being said it's only feasible to assume that having nails with smooth, clean edges sliding into you provides a much more pleasurable experience than sharp, rough nails. Adding to that the fact that you are much to sensible to spend money on something to only use it once, it's safe to assume that you have been using your manicured fingers quite frequently to ensure you got your money's worth."

Molly gaped at him, shocked. She didn't know what she was most surprised by: the fact that Sherlock had used the word 'masturbating' or that he had been able to deduce her near constant solitary sexual endeavours.

"Well we've both been very busy with work we can hardly find the time to have a meal together never mind have sex," she tried to explain.

"I thought that was what engaged couples do, at least if you're using John and Mary as an example one would imagine that you and Tom would be copulating like bunnies."

Molly didn't like the way this conversation was going and wanted to turn things around.

"Oh and you think about Tom and I having sex frequently do you?" she asked teasingly.

An unreadable expression fell on Sherlock's face when he looked at her and said, "No, Molly when I think about you having sex, I don't imagine you doing it with Tom."

Molly was stunned into silence so all she could do was manage a nod when Sherlock asked her if she was finished her calculations.

She still hadn't recovered her voice by the time he thanked her and got up to leave the morgue so she never got the chance to ask him exactly what he meant by that.

Thanks again to all of you wonderful people who read it, left comments/questions and are following/favorite the story. I'm very grateful because I DO IT FOR THE VIEWS! (I don't actually but it certainly helps)