Author's note part 1:

Hello everyone!

There is an author's note part 2 at the end, but it contains a spoiler about the topic of the upcoming chapter, so be warned.

Thanks to SammyKatz, Rocking the Redhead, Reina434, Crimson and Chrome 42, Monirosez, Renaissancebooklover108, Arcoiris and Mrspencil for the reviews!

I hope you have a great evening, and I wish you all a wonderful 2014.

Happy new year!

Feral.

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"What has my shirt ever done to you, Sherlock?" John asked mildly, watching his friend violently hit the bed with said item of clothing.

"I can't shoot the wall." Sherlock replied before resuming the vehement thrashing.

John sighed. "Come on, let's have breakfast."

"I don't want to."

"Yes, you do. Come on."

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Molly woke up with a strange, tingling sensation. It really did feel like butterflies.

She worried about what to wear with trepidation, but her nerves had lost their bite, somehow. It wasn't stressful, it was…Exiting.

She went down for breakfast to see James and Sherlock reading newspapers and John drinking coffee. They all looked up when she walked in; James stood and offered her a seat between him and John. After the customary exchange of 'good morning', she sat down for some orange juice and a cornetto.

It was a very quiet breakfast. Maybe Molly had interrupted a conversation or something, because she somehow felt responsible. Munching her cornetto silently, she sheepishly looked around at the three men. When she met John's gaze, he shrugged.

"Molly, would…" Sherlock began to say, when his phone began to ring. "It's Bonlieu." He muttered before answering.

"What did the test say?" he asked.

"Good morning, Mr. Holmes. There is no DNA match in our files."

"Is there any other information you gathered?"

There followed the sound of paper being moved as Bonlieu read. "She has a slight iron deficiency, but is otherwise in good health…I am sorry, that is all we have."

Sherlock nodded. "Thank you Bonlieu. Call me if anything new pops up."

John's brow furrowed in disappointment when Sherlock reported the exchange. "What a shame…"

"On the contrary, John." Sherlock grinned. "This phone call was exactly what I was hoping for."

"What do you mean?" Molly asked, surprised.

Sherlock stood. "I will tell you soon enough. Now, are we going to Milan or aren't we?"

Three auto blu waited for them outside the embassy, each car had 2 police officers in civilian clothes. Ascanio Rigamonti with his habitual scowl stood by the one in the middle.

"Doesn't it feel strange, being escorted by bodyguards wherever you go?" Molly asked James as they walked to the vehicles.

James shook his head. "It did at first, but I am used to it by now, and it is necessary; I already had one attempt on my life when I was working in Benghazi and…"

"Oh my God! Really? What happened?" Molly cried in shock.

"My security escort and I were on our way to Libya when I felt an explosion…" James held the car door open for her, and Molly settled in the back car seat, enthralled. "It was a rocket propelled grenade. They had been expecting us…" The ambassador continued the story as he sat next to her and closed the door just as John and Sherlock walked out of the embassy.. The consulting detective watched the driver start the engine while Molly and the ambassador sat close together, chatting.

It would take about 4 hours to reach Milan.

Sherlock turned his coat collar up.

"Come on, John." He muttered, and they sat in the second car.

"I am no expert at chess, Sherlock." John mused as he took his place next to his friend. "But if I were you, I would reconsider my tactics."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're an idiot."

"Shut up, John."

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Milan, the economic capital and the beating heart of Italy's fashion, is similar to an oyster: it might not be impressive at first, it holds pearls for those who know where to look.

Coming from the motorway, one first sees stark, grey buildings covered with giant billboards; However, as one leaves the city outskirts behind, the roads become adorned with trees, art nouveau and neoclassic buildings. James chuckled when Molly gaped in delight at the definitive Milanese symbol: the Duomo, a white gothic cathedral with a gold-plated statue of the Virgin Mary at its peak.

The British consulate is very close to the Duomo, only a short walk from the galleria, via Montenapoleone and via della Spiga, the most exclusive and expensive places for fashionable shoppers. Molly felt even more grateful for her little trip at the shops in Rome!

When they finally arrived at the consulate, they were ushered into a meeting room to discuss the situation to security staff and British diplomats in Milan, while the suitcases were swiftly taken to their rooms.

Molly would be running some tests at the Istituto Auxologico in via Ariosto, the ambassador was to be in the company of at least 3 vetted people at all times until further notice.

"I was invited to Armani's party tonight." James said. " Will the trap be set then?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No. The killer knows we're here and is expecting you to be closely watched tonight. If security were lacking, it would be too obvious…Tonight we will go to the event and see we can find, but everything must show that we know, and we're waiting."

James nodded in understanding, then Molly stood and said, in a businesslike tone: "Well, in the meantime, let me do my part: I will run the tests you need."

Then she looked around before adding: "So…where is the hospital, and how do I get there?"

"I will take you, doctor Ooper." Ascanio bellowed and began escorting Molly to the door. Sherlock stood and followed. "Come along, John." He called over his shoulder.

James rose to his feet and would have come too, but the consulting detective turned around. "Your excellency, you need to stay here. It is vital for the case."

"Oh, it is, is it? How come?" James inquired, still standing.

Sherlock's expression became the very manifestation of contrition and concern. "The hospital is a very busy place, full of strange people. There hasn't been time for proper security measures, it would be too dangerous…"

A choir of diplomats, officers and staff joined in a cacophony of warnings and requests for due caution. Sherlock, still a vision of pious worry, winked at the ambassador before leaving the room.

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It was a fifteen minute drive from the consulate to the istituto Auxologico Italiano. The hospital is a beautiful nineteenth century building with a row of columns at the main entrance. Molly was readily welcomed, given a lab coat and ushered to a spotless, empty lab.

Ascanio Rigamonti stood guard outside, under Sherlock's instructions.

As she walked in the room, she pulled her hair back in a bun. "Right." She said. "What do you need me to do, Sherlock?"

The consulting detective pulled out a small, sterilized jar from his pocket. "This is the killer's tissue we found under doctor Paten's nails. Give me everything you can find." He looked past her to see John glare at him meaningfully. "Please." Sherlock added.

"I've got to ask Ascanio…Something. I'll be right back." John said suddenly, moving past Molly and giving Sherlock one last, pointed stare, before leaving the room.

Molly cleared her throat.

"Uhm…Ok!" She cried brightly. Too brightly.

Get a GRIP! You've moved past this, remember? She chastised herself and got to work, trying hard to ignore the tall dark man in the middle of the room.

"Molly." She heard him call her name, but she must have imagined the hesitation in his voice. The pathologist turned around to look at the consulting detective.

Sherlock was smiling an open, almost boyish grin.

"Thank you for your help. I'm really happy you're here."

Molly froze.

"You look…very pretty today, Molly."

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Is there anything else you want, Sherlock? I'm here to help, I don't need convincing."

Sherlock's smile wavered for a moment.

"No, thank you, Molly."

She nodded and turned to open the precious jar, not seeing Sherlock's face fall behind her.

She carefully took a small piece of the coagulated blood and put it on a small dish.

CRASH!

Molly jumped in fright, turning in alarm with a hand to her chest.

Sherlock looked back at her, his expression unreadable, with a telescope in his hand and shattered glass on the floor.

"It slipped." He stated matter-of-factly.

"Sherlock!" She cried out. "What is wrong with you?"

He blinked, and for a moment she felt like she had slapped him.

She didn't know how many times he had been asked that.

Or how many he had asked himself.

"I mean…" She corrected herself "Why are you acting like this?"

"I'm always like this." He replied coldly, turning his back to her.

"That's not true, and you know it!" She didn't back down. "Ever since you came to Manchester you've been acting weird. You've barely spoken to me, and half the time you do it's as if you're angry and…"

"I am." He didn't move.

"You are?" Molly hesitated, but pressed on. "You are what?"

"I am angry." She saw the back of his head as it lifted, ever so slightly.

"You're angry?" Molly's fists clenched. "You're angry? What have you got to be angry about, Sherlock? You…"

"You LEFT!" Sherlock snarled, turning to face her.

"I asked you to stay and you LEFT, Molly!"

She took a step back, surprised, but then stood her ground.

"Can you blame me, Sherlock?" She bit back. "After what happened, how could I stay?"

The two glared at each other, their eyes filled with the memory of what happened that day...

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Author's note part 2:

Yes, you guessed it. Next chapter will be about "that day".

I hope you liked the chapter!