Hello all. Sorry for the delay in the story. I've been overloaded with work until now and my creativity has shrank to a little rivulet that didn't allow me to update the story much. Normally, I try to have some chapters planned ahead but I'm stuck and I've decided to publish the chapters that I've written in the meantime (that and my bronchitis is telling me that I should update before I die... Don't listen to me, I'm overly dramatic when I'm sick).

So just for everyone to remember: Sherlock is close to solving the case. The serial killer suspect is in custody but is to be found among a band of teenagers. Sally has revealed to Sherlock that Molly might leave Barts and relocate to America with the lover. Sherlock is quite stricken by it but he has a case to solve, so he has to focus.

Hope you enjoy it...

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"That's it?" asked Lestrade, utter disbelief painting itself on his face.

Sherlock was in one of his manic frenzies, one of which the two police officers had not seen him in but had already heard John talk about. Sally and Greg shared a look. Did that mean they were in Sherlock's inner circle now? Greg shook his head and asked again, trying to be clear as he looked intently at the detective:

"Sweets? So what, all teenagers eat sweets. There no breaking news in that! How do you think it will help us single out the killer?"

"Ahhh, once again, you don't look further than the tip of your nose! Yes, teenagers eat sweets. But how many teenagers do you know will eat sweets while mutilating a woman?" Said Sherlock. At the two police officers pointed looks, he let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes, I know he's a psychopath. But opening up a chest actually requires skills and concentration. Something you don't normally go about while chewing absent-mindedly on something. Especially, if you're chewing again on the same thing after you've cleaned up the mess you made. Unless you're obsessive in your chewing. And people that obsessed must certainly have a flavour of choice. So now, if we can pinpoint what exactly is the sweets, we'll find out the killer." He explained, the words shooting out his mouth like bullets.

At the stunned look of the two detectives, Sherlock shook his head. Ah, if only John had been there, the deduction was brilliant and there was nobody to properly appreciate it. At the absence of movements from the officers, he however felt a growing irritation:

"Now, just go and call Molly so she goes and determines the flavour of the sweet." He said, trying to have them move.

"Actually, it can't be Molly, it would have to be Robertson." Said Sally.

At the words, Sherlock stilled and Sally was a little wary about what might come out of his mouth. However, before Sherlock had time to say anything, Greg cut in:

"Sherlock, don't you remember? Molly took a day off. She's helping Mary preparing the baby shower? The one we're going to once everything is wrapped up?"

At that, Sherlock seemed to settle somewhat but still replied a little stiffly as if being caught doing something naughty:

"Oh yes, of course. And John is with them." This at least, accounted for the absence of his blogger. He definitely had to remind himself to stop deleting that kind of information so he wouldn't look like an idiot. "Well, I guess Robertson will have to do, then." he finally managed.

The three of them waited as the analysis was being urged down at Barts. The publicity of the case had certainly played in their favour as well as the ticking clock on the custody of the boys suspected to be the killer. As Lestrade sipped on his coffee, trying to catch up on paper work and getting reports from the men doing the interrogation and Sally, popping in and out to run errands or doing whatever a DS did, Sherlock sat still, lost in his mind palace, trying to focus on the little thing that bothered him about the case. Not that he had any doubt about one of the teenagers being the serial murderer, nor the way to foil him. But there was a little thing that was niggling at the back on his mind and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. While waiting, he felt like smoking a cigarette but he'd gone cold turkey and he hadn't any patches at hand. He was starting to feel fidgety and he hated that. A wiser part of his mind, which sounded strangely like his father, knew that his nervousness wasn't just caused by having to wait for additional proof before having his breakthrough. He already had to wait before and didn't feel that wait clawing at him like it did now. No, it was to do with what Donovan had told him earlier. As the realisation hit, he forced himself to disregard it immediately. He didn't have time for that, to think about his pathologist actually leaving for another. No. He needed to focus on the case. And how he could speed the whole process up.

Greg, bored out of his mind, got up and looked at Sherlock. The detective didn't look different from usual but he'd seen the way Sally had looked at him. As if she was worried about something. It wasn't about the case or she would have told him, nor was it the usual exasperation at this arrogance. No it was something between the two of them and never would he have ever imagined that a "between the two of them" would exist one day between Donovan and Sherlock. He sighed as he patted his pockets, the urge for a cigarette becoming unrelenting. He looked once more at Sherlock, knowing it was wrong for him to propose but doing it anyway:

"Sherlock, want to come and smoke a cigarette?" he said.

Sherlock looked over at the DI, surprise etched on his face. Clearly, he wasn't used at being offered to smoke a cigarette. Greg could obviously see why. His close friends were non-smoker doctors, not really that into addicting, cancer-inducing habits. As for the other people, well, Sherlock surely knew how to discourage any friendly gesture that was a given. Anyway, instead of brushing the gesture off as Lestrade half expected him to, the detective quickly got up and started for the door. However, Greg gestured to the window at the back of his office.

"We'll sneak one right there, better than going all the way down." Said the DI.

Sherlock smiled at that and quickly approached. The two men took a cigarette from Lestrade's pack and lit them. They both groaned slightly as the first rush of nicotine coursed in their veins.

"Bloody hell, 've been waiting all day long for one. I tried to stop but got right back at it. I just can't help it. Guess now I know why they say it's addictive." chatted idly the DI as he took another long drag out of his cigarette.

Sherlock was smoking silently beside him, relishing each puff of smoke as they made their way in his lungs. Yes, he could see Lestrade's point. He couldn't remember the number of times he had tried to stop. But, yes it was addictive. Worse than heroine. Unbidden, came a memory of a discussion with Molly. He had said those exact words and she had twinkled her nose in disagreement. When asked about it, she had shrugged and just said: "it's not just the products, it also goes with a personality. Addiction is half the result of actual physical addiction and half of an obsessive-compulsive personality. That's why people get addicted to food, for example." As he was smiling fondly at the memory, it finally hit him. His breath caught in his throat and he started coughing.

"Are you alright mate?" asked Lestrade, a little bit worried.

"Yes, yes. I know how we're going to trick him! Of course, I should have thought of it sooner. Mycroft's right, I might be slipping a little bit." Said Sherlock as he went to the doors and bellowed for Donovan.

"What Sherlock? You don't make any sense." Said Lestrade as he put out his cigarette and went to his desk.

"Donovan, good. We need sweets. The boy has an obsessive personality. He will just dive at them if given the chance. The others will be too stressed out to eat them, but the killer, he just won't be able to keep himself from them." Explained rapidly the detective.

"It's actually a pretty good idea." Said Donovan.

"Wait, wait, the two of you." Interrupted Lestrade. "Sweets? What king of sweets. It's not like we can and just by random stuff just to see if one reacts at them. You said it yourself Sherlock, he's specific in his taste."

Sherlock stilled at that and he started mumbling behind his breath. The two officers looked at him until the detective intimated them to just let him think through it. After a few more seconds, Sherlock finally said:

"Has to be hard candy, he wouldn't be able to focus on the killing if he had to pop sweets in his mouth every five seconds. Also large enough not to melt right away, or he'd face the same problem. Also, there is the problem with the sweet being dribbling down on his fingers. That's why he left some of it on the body after he cleaned it. Also, we know there was some DNA, just nothing usable because of the bleach. So, dribbling sweet, DNA, saliva – of course." An image popped in his mind then of his pathologist sucking on a lollipop while doing some paperwork, complaining when the sticky residue strayed to mark a page. "Lollipops. That's what we need to catch him." He finally said to Donovan and Lestrade.

"OK, Donovan, you go and buy those big pots with several flavours of lollipops in them." Commanded Greg quoting a famous brand of sweets and explaining the details. The man was evidently drawing on his experience of living with two teenage kids at home.

Sherlock refrained from saying anything, just waiting for the lollipops to be purchased and introduced in the interrogation rooms. Screens had been set up in Lestrade's Office and a live-feed allowed them to see what happened simultaneously inside the interrogation rooms. On the monitors, the policemen interrogating the suspects, helped themselves to the lollipops but at first, none of the boys tried and grabbed one of the sweets. Yet, after a few stolen glance, one of them, an angelic looking youth, finally reached toward the pot in front of him. After a shy look – faked so as to support his innocent-looking appearance, he looked at the pot and rummaged through it to get to his flavour of choice. Sherlock's eyes narrowed on the display and he stated:

"It's him. Here. See? He didn't take the first lollipop he could reach as a hungry teenager would have. No, he carefully selected the one which he wanted. This is our murderer. Now, it's only a matter of matching the aroma of this particular lollipop to the residue found on our second victim."

Lestrade and Donovan quickly nodded. They released a silent sigh at knowing that the case was finally solved. As it was, Sherlock went to the coat rack to the door and angled his head at Lestrade:

"Well, I'll leave you to it, I have a party to attend." Said Sherlock, with a seriousness that seemed at odds with the words leaving his mouth. The man then left, his coat billowing around him.

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