To everyone who read Towers and is wondering what happened to me... Writer's block! ;( I had no ideas! (Still kind of don't) Anyway, while I was gone from the LOTR fandom, I became obsessed with the Sherlock fandom. Enjoy!

Sherlock Holmes was bored again. However, this time, it was unusual: he was on a case, but he was a little stuck. The body of a woman, Angela Thorpe, had been found in a ditch in London, but a one-way Tube ticket from Kent was found in her pocket. She had known that she wasn't coming back. She was found completely bald, with no traces of hair anywhere on the ground around her. Her autopsy showed that she had been strangled, but there were no rope marks on her neck, and no possible weapons at the scene of the crime. Her phone was in her coat pocket, so Sherlock had been able to gather some information from the woman's boyfriend. Angela Thorpe had surprisingly few family members - her parents lived together pretty close to her, and her twin sister had died eleven years earlier of breast cancer. Angela had apparently told her boyfriend that she was going to visit an old friend in Oxford for a couple days, and he never saw her again. Sherlock had lots of theories, but no means of trying them out. Therefore, boredom settled in. Sherlock steepled his fingers and rummaged through the cluttered drawer in the lab of his mind palace marked Experiments For Later. One file caught his eye. He quickly scanned it. It involved a pair of human hands. Sherlock lazily opened one eye to check his watch. 5:37. John would be at Baker Street soon, and Molly's shift wasn't over until 8:00. Excellent. He could get the hands from her, and do the experiment at night. That would definitely be the best course of action, because John would be too busy sleeping to scold him. He snapped both eyes open, slipped on his Belstaff and scarf, then sent a text to John.

Going to St. Bart's. Will be back later -SH

Ok, say hi to Molly for me -JW

Sherlock sighed and pocketed his phone. He strode out of 221B and hailed a cab, John's text still lingering in his mind.

Molly Hooper looked up of from her microscope at the clock. 5:44. She sighed and returned her gaze to the fascinating world of cells and tissues, speeding up her note-taking a little. The mountain of slides next to her needed to be done by 8:00 today, and Molly was starting to get lonely and bored. Now I know what it's like to be Sherlock, she thought jokingly, the mental image bringing a sudden smile to her face as she swapped slides. Just then, the door flew open and Sherlock Holmes swept in. Molly whirled around. Speak of the devil.

"Hello Molly, do you have any hands I could use? They have to be a pair," he said brusquely.

To his surprise, Molly didn't immediately stop what she was doing to go get the hands. "I'm a bit busy right now, Sherlock," she said, motioning to the slides beside her. "Can it wait?"

"No," Sherlock said petulantly. "I'm bored."

Molly let out a small noise of exasperation. He was such a child sometimes. "Look, I have actual work to do, and the deadline is today."

Suddenly, Irene Adler's voice popped into Sherlock's head. "I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice." They're autopsy tables, he automatically corrected himself. Wait, what? Sherlock felt himself mentally blushing. Why would he think of that in relation to Molly Hooper and right now? Then it hit him like a blow to the head: he was supposed to beg for mercy. Sherlock frowned inwardly. Sherlock Holmes did not beg for mercy. Not from Irene Adler, not from anyone else, and certainly not from Molly Hooper. His analytical brain boiled the situation down into two outcomes: to get the hands he needed, he would either have to wait (and be bored for the next few hours) or beg for mercy (saying please...). In the short time that had taken for Sherlock to figure this out, Molly had turned back to her microscope.

"Please." The word tasted foreign in his mouth.

Molly froze at the one low syllable. Had something in the universe shifted? Sherlock was being polite and using manners for once. She relented, a new spring of hope welling up inside her. "Fine." Molly got up and walked to the cold storage, where most of the body parts were kept.

Sherlock watched Molly's long ponytail swing as she searched for a pair of matching hands. He was a bit baffled at how well and how quickly the 'please' method had worked. Sherlock kept looking at Molly's hair for some reason. It reminded him of a waterfall, without the annoying noise.

"Found them!" Molly said brightly, handing Sherlock a carefully wrapped package. Her smile fell when she saw that Sherlock was staring at her in a very odd way. Molly could practically hear his brain working.

Everything clicked into place in the great machine of Sherlock's mind. The hair is the key. A broad grin spread across his face at the joy of solving a case.

Now he was grinning like a maniac. Molly started feeling a little freaked out. Suddenly, she felt Sherlock's arms around her in a brief, giddy embrace. His soft lips landed on her cheek like a butterfly, departing as quickly as they had come. "Thank you Molly Hooper," he said, picking up the package of hands. "You just solved my case." He adjusted his scarf and walked out, leaving Molly still confused. She sighed, sitting down to continue her work, mentally reliving the way Sherlock's hug had felt.

Sherlock's phone vibrated as he stepped outside of St. Bart's.

Will not be back at flat until 7:30 -JW

I probably will not be back at all -SH

I solved the case -SH

On an unrelated note, are you ever going to use the mittens Mrs. Hudson made you for Christmas? -SH

No... why? -JW

Good. The hands I'm putting in the freezer will need them -SH

Sherlock! -JW

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