Hello all. I know it's been a while since I last posted but lots of work, illness and other plot bunnies plaguing me just kept me from updating the story. I'll try to update the story much more regularly as I'm now in holidays but sometimes I just get stuck even if I know where I want the story to go. Anyway, here is the new chapter!

And also, I don't own anything (I never said it before but thought it was quite obvious, now the error of my ways stand corrected).

Since it's been quite some time since my last post, here is a quick summary. There's a case with a serial killer cutting girls open and burning their hearts out, Molly telling off both Sherlock and her boyfriend, Sherlock being taunted by John and Mrs. Hudson about his relationship with Molly and trying to solve a case. At this point, he's making his way to St Bart's to pass up time while waiting for his irregulars to come back to him with the location on the primary crime scene.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

At the morgue, Molly was in the lab, alternating between looking at some images of samples that Nick had sent her and the reactions that she could obtain. More precisely, she was trying to determine if she could generate a false positive with a limited set of other substances. Nick was seated in a stool next to her and was either glaring at his phone, arguing with his team or looking at her progress smiling. As far as her usual schedule went, this was not so different. Maybe a little nosier. She focused once more on the sample but couldn't replicate anything. She throw her gloves and came to Nick. He put his phone on speaker and gestured to her to speak:

"Hmmm. Hello… everyone. Hmm… So, I tried to replicate any false positive with the different possible substances but got nothing. Have you any idea if it could be a specific mix of them or anything else?" she asked, a little nervous to be talking to Nick's team.

A collective hello sounded back and she was relieved as no one seemed to question her role in this. From the previous arguments that she had heard, Nick and his team tended to discuss as much differentials as each other's personal lives. She was quite glad that right now they weren't so interested in hers. Instead, they were talking to each other trying to find out what other substance might have been in contact with their patient. They were still debating between themselves when Nick rolled his eyes and interrupted:

"Yes, yes. We're not playing Family Feud, give me something better than this. We're not going to test all the periodic element table!" he ironized, his hand crisping in his left leg. "Call me back when you have a good list!" and he disconnected.

Molly had started to recognise that Nick's increased pain in his leg was a symptom of frustration. He needed to find what was causing the false positive and she couldn't help but wanting to help him. More so even, as she had cancelled their date in a fit of anger she couldn't quite understand. Yes, guilt was a powerful emotion she knew. Which was why, instead of waiting for more than the team, she was trying to think about a combination of the elements that could react together and create such a result. However, in that case, any change in the dosage of each element could lead to a fail. And unfortunately, she only had her lunch break to try and help Nick. After that, she'd have to go back to the morgue. Even more so since she'd been requested by the Met for an autopsy – not for the case that Greg was working on but another where she didn't even know the DI in charge. At that precise moment, Sherlock and John entered the lab. Sherlock, as was his habit, managing to swoosh the doors without them hitting the walls. It was, as usual, quite a dramatic entrance.

On her left Nick snickered slightly but quickly went back to the screen of his phone. But Sherlock had heard and sent him a slivering look.

"Problem?" the detective asked coldly.

"Not at all. My fourteen-year old heart just melted at your grand arrival. Do you mind doing it again while I record it with my phone? I'd really like to have a keepsake." Sarcastically replied the doctor, for once confronting the detective.

Molly and John exchanged worried looks at that. Molly knew that Nick was frustrated with his case, which, she had found, made him extremely irritated and difficult with other people. On the other hand, Sherlock hated people being sarcastic toward him. More so as evidently there was no love lost between the two men. John and Molly held their breaths waiting for an inevitable show down between the two. However, instead of launching in scathing deductions, Sherlock ignored the GP and came at Molly's side, hovering slightly over her experiment. Case didn't pursue either but kept his eyes fixed on the detective as he made his way close to the petite woman. Case gripped slightly his leg when Sherlock bent over Molly but almost nothing on his face betrayed anything otherwise. John took the scene in, a weird feeling in his stomach as he saw the grin of the doctor drop a little before relaxing back in its broad and ironic usual form. The strangest thing, of course, was how Sherlock ignored the man. This wasn't the dismissive behaviour he had harboured when dealing with Jim from IT, nor was it the awkward reserve displayed towards Tom, this was new. A clear refusal to acknowledge the other man. Well, at least, he'd have something else to talk about other than charred cadavers with Mary tonight, mused the army doctor. Sherlock took a look at the experiment that was being conducted and finally asked, curious:

"What were you working on Molly?"

Molly whirled between him and Nick and answered:

"Oh, yes. We're trying to replicate a false positive for this test with this set of substances. It's for one of Nick's case." She explained, still a little nervous at the current volatility in the air.

Just at the moment, Nick's phone started to chime as a series of emails arrived and he lowered once more his eyes to the screen in his hand. John shot a look at Sherlock just in time to see daggers directed to the doctor in his friend's eyes. Well, that was also new. Molly, oblivious and still turned to her lover, hesitated slightly before asking:

"Maybe we could ask Sherlock for help." She proposed.

At that Sherlock rolled his eyes but frowned when he heard Nick scoffing. Molly reddened a little, and her voice took a little edge when she pushed:

"You know, he is a graduate chemist. If anyone can work out the right combination of elements that could create a positive, it's him."

At that Sherlock, felt something bloom in his chest: Molly was defending him. Not that it seemed to matter to the man in front of them as he was still focused on whatever medical babbling was appearing on his screen. And indeed, Nick was quite dismissive when he started to reply:

"Oh, yes. So the consulting detective also branches out in medical advice? I'd…" he started out. However, as his eyes lifted to Molly's, he paused and after a few second decided to say "Well. Looking at you work is such a sexy show. Holmes is not really my type so I'm feeling a little let down at the alternative. But whatever, if he wants to knock himself out, be my guest! I have to call the team back anyway." And with that, he got up and grumbled about idiotic teams as he made his way out of the lab.

As Nick got out of the lab, Molly turned to Sherlock with big, imploring eyes. The detective thought about saying no, just to spite the M.D. that hadn't considered his skills high enough to manage this particular task. However, a quick look at his pathologist and also some curiosity over the experiment finally won him over and he relented.

"Of course, Molly Hooper, I'd wouldn't want to fail you."

At this John sent him a quizzical look, one that Sherlock evidently chose to ignore and instead focused on the experiment in front of him. Molly's phone vibrated then and with a big smile to the two men, she exited the lab. John sat on a stool, quickly checked his own phone to see if he had any news from Mary and got a quick look at his blog's stats. As he was considering if he should text Mary about the odd behaviour of Sherlock or if this was for a face-to-face conversation, he shot a quick glance at Sherlock, who had taken place behind Molly's microscope. Sherlock without bothering lifting his eyes from the experiment, nonetheless remarked:

"John, stop blowing things out of proportions."

John froze at that. Why was he still taken aback by Sherlock, he couldn't know. But again, for such a blunt man, to achieve this level of hypocrisy was incredible. A little pricked, he leaned back on his stool and crossed his arms in front of him:

"Why, Sherlock. Don't see anything that might be blown out of proportion. Of course, since it has always been in your character to go out of your way to be of help to Molly. Yeah, that's what you're always described as: the knight in shining armour that rescue damsels in distress."

"John, this is just an experiment. Quite a fun experiment. I'm not so arrogant as to forego this just because the lover is an obnoxious ass." Dismissively stated Sherlock succeeding for once to utter the noun he'd dubbed the diagnostician without too much disdain.

"Sherlock, yes you are!" indignantly answered John. Just look at the nerve of the man. This was Sherlock, who would refuse a cool case just because Mycroft suggested it to him, and he had the audacity to try and deny it? But behind the indignation, there was also some curiosity in the change of behaviour "You know what? I think that Mary's right. You fancy Molly Hooper." Finally and calmly said John.

At that Sherlock finally raised his eyes from the experiment and sent a scathing look at his friend.

"John, Mary and you have to stop reading Anderson's blog. You're both starting to sound incredibly like sappy and sentimental teenage girls. Confusing your little romantic fantasy for reality. Not sure that's a quality for good parenting."

But John was sure of himself now. Yes, Mary had been right. Sherlock fancied Molly. It had been a long way coming, but nobody could dismiss the evidence. So he didn't feel very at risk to be wrong when he said:

"Want to discuss reality, then? So, what a good detective could make of the following: you instantly apologise to her which you never do except when forced to, you don't like any of her boyfriends, you have her as your confidant, you made her bedroom one of your bolthole – not her spare bedroom but her bloody bedroom, and now, you do things for her when you don't do anything for anyone. So what do you deduce?"

Sherlock had narrowed his eyes at each and every little fact that John, counting on his fingers, had put to him. Irritation clearer and clearer as the little data was highlighted to him, painting a picture of romance that he would be hard pressed to deny. So, obviously there was only solution.

"Shut up John or the next time I have a case, instead of running you with me, I'll let Mary shoot you."

With that final assessment, he returned to the samples and put John on mute before he tried to replicate the symptoms described in the adjacent file on the army doctor. John, on his hand, felt he had made his point. Sherlock while quite threatening hadn't deny his words. However, there was still something nagging at him. He really had to discuss this running or shooting thing with Mary. Not sure that he had liked what he heard.