How to Play a Game Called Murder

Chapter 10: The Game is Back On

"I think that is the most I have ever seen you eat at once, Sherlock." John eyed Sherlock's clean plate in amazement.

"Nonsense, John. What about after The Woman?" Sherlock winked at John who snorted and began coughing violently. Mary smirked and patted him on the back, none too gently as Molly looked on, laughing. (They both knew the story of how John had entered the flat, not long after the ill-fated flight of the dead, to find Sherlock consuming an entire three layer chocolate cake.)

The four sat on the outdoor patio of a small café not far from Bart's, eating a late lunch. Molly had managed to slip away for once, instead of braving the canteen. Of course, Sherlock had a lot to do with that. He refused to leave and let her work unless she agreed to meet up with them on her break. He had grinned triumphantly at John when he told him that he had asked her to lunch. The grin died though when John told him that he had technically not invited her, rather that he drove her insane until she was exasperated enough to agree and that bothering her to death wasn't exactly the best way to get her to do things with him. So confusing.

Sherlock was watching Molly smile, feeling something odd in his chest, when he caught Mary's smug grin out of the corner of his eye. He quickly looked away, a bit of red coloring his cheeks and cleared his throat.

"What time do you have to be back, Molly?"

She checked her phone for the time and jumped up, nearly upending the table in her haste.

"Oh gosh, I'm late!! Sherlock, you made me late!"

"I didn't do anything. You were the one not watching the time. Besides, there are no bodies today so you'll just be stuck doing paperwork anyway. Boring."

Molly's face was stern. "Boring or not, it has to be done. And I have to do it." She grabbed up her purse and took off; calling over her shoulder that she'd see them all later.

John chuckled and leaned over to kiss Mary on the cheek. "I'd better get back to the clinic too. No chance of a case today, huh?" he inquired hopefully.

Sherlock shook his head glumly. Mary smiled at him and playfully poked John in the side.

"No playing detective today, love. It's back to work for you!" John chuckled and kissed her cheek again before strolling off in the direction of the clinic.

Sherlock was focusing on his coffee, deciding whether to return to the flat or pretend to need something from Bart's when Mary's sudden giggle startled him.

"So, when are you going to tell her?"

His brow furrowed in confusion as he looked up at her. "Tell what to whom, exactly?"

"Oh, Sherlock. I can read you like a book. You can't tell me that you were so adamant that Molly stay with you at Baker Street just for her protection." Sherlock opened his mouth to argue the point but Mary held up a hand, silencing him. "And don't think I didn't catch you mooning over her just now when she wasn't looking. If John wasn't so oblivious, he would've seen it too."

Sherlock colored slightly and glanced away, picking a pretend speck of dust from his coat. "Yes, well. I might enjoy her company. A bit."

Mary snorted. "A bit? You asked John for help wooing her! And as far as I can tell, you haven't gotten very far with it."

Sherlock blushed harder and cleared his throat, examining Mary a second before blurting out, "I kissed her."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Did you really?" At his nod, she asked, "And?"

"Her phone rang."

"Oooo, fail."

"Yes, quite."

They sat in silence for a minute before Mary leaned forward, looking Sherlock in the eyes and drew in a breath.

"Sherlock, you are a good man. No matter the image you project. I know that you are just trying to protect yourself when you drive everyone away. Let me give you some advice though. Don't drive this one away. Molly Hooper is the best thing that could ever happen to you. Even better than John, and that is saying something."

 Sherlock gulped and nodded.

"I'll do my best." He got to his feet. "Come on, I'll take you home."

"Before or after you go to Bart's to bother Molly some more?" Mary laughed.

Sherlock gave her an offended look. "Before, of course. Can't have pregnant women in the morgue. Too many chemicals."

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An hour later, Sherlock stood in the door of Molly's tiny office.

The pathologist was completely hidden by the ridiculously tall stacks of papers and books that covered her desk. Sherlock's mouth quirked up as he heard her muttering to herself as she read through a study on liver disease, looking for similarities between the study and an autopsy she had done the previous day.

"Molly?"

There was a muffled yelp of surprise and her head poked up over the stacks.

"Sherlock! What are you doing back here?" Before he could reply she hurried on. "Not that I mind or anything, I just... I mean, what do you need?"

He gazed at her a moment, observing her as her face flushed and her pupils dilated slightly. He turned and looked out into the morgue to hide his self-satisfied smirk and pointed at a freezer on the far side.

"Got any toes?"

"Yeah, there should be a couple in there. Help yourself."

Molly sat back down; chewing on her pencil as she resumed reading and Sherlock frowned. He crossed over and opened the freezer, thinking about how best to get her attention back on himself. Grabbing a jar labeled, "A. Thompson, fingers & toes," he heard a soft ping, indicating an incoming picture message.

He pulled out his phone and checked the message. On his screen appeared the image of a woman.

A very dead woman.

He checked the sender; blocked.

So not Lestrade needing help with a case then. The first puzzle. Sherlock felt giddy. Finally! A problem to solve!

"Molly!" he called out. "Get your things! We've got a case!"

Molly appeared with a confused expression on her face.

"What are you going on about, Sherlock? I'm working."

He strode over to her, holding his phone up too close to her face.

She reached up and moved his hand back a bit and a tremor went through him.

"That's a dead woman," Molly stated, matter-of-factly.

"Yes, I had noticed," he replied, not a bit sarcastically.

He peered at the display again.

"Come on, it looks like she is somewhere on the banks of the Thames. I've got to talk to Lestrade and see what he knows about this." He turned to walk out the door and belatedly realized that she hadn't moved. "Well?"

"Sherlock, I'm staying here. I can't just run out on my job. Besides, you'll need someone to autopsy that body eventually."

Sherlock pouted at her. Come on, Molly. I want to be brilliant for you. Wait, what? He cocked his head to the side and studied her for a minute and she lowered her eyes, a faint pink coloring her cheeks. He grinned.

"Alright, I'll see you here in a couple hours." He swept out the doors of the morgue and headed off, firing messages off to John, Lestrade and Mycroft.

The game is back on.