So I'm back with another new story. This one is a winter fic so although I drafted most of it out in Spring it just felt wrong posting it over summer so it had to wait until now. I hope you enjoy it. We'll start out on a T rating and see how we go on though I suspect it will move to an M rating eventually or I'll do as I've done in the past and highlight the M bits or post separate T and M chapters.

As ever I own nothing but owe it all to Arthur C-D, Steven M and Mark G. I am forever grateful that they share(d) their talents with the world.

Chapter 1

Sherlock couldn't quite pinpoint the moment it had happened; his normally impeccable mind palace letting him down for once. It was like a virus in his mind and he couldn't root it out. He had thought that if he could fix on the moment, the hour, the second, it had started he could delete it and everything would be OK. So he had spent hours, sometimes it felt like days, in his mind palace back tracking over every interaction, every conversation trying to find the start of it, but it was all to no avail.

At one point he had thought it had started with jealousy over Tim...Toby...Tom, well whatever his name was, but no it was earlier than that, he'd trusted her, he'd always trusted her, so before then, before the fall. Jealousy over Moriarty? Maybe. He felt that had definitely had something to do with it. She was his, the thought of him being anywhere near her made his stomach turn and his blood boil. It hadn't bothered him at the time though, but then at the time he had just thought 'Jim' was a gay guy from IT looking for 'a beard' for some reason. He had known it wouldn't last, there was no threat there. No the feeling of possessiveness had come later when he'd realised who 'Jim' was.

Trouble was now he knew that the virus was there and try as he might he couldn't eradicate it. He had finally recognised what this feeling was when Molly had slapped him across the face following his foray into drug use for the Charles Magnussen case. He had known deep down that he felt disgruntled over her engagement when she had refused to have fish and chips with him shortly after his return. He'd chalked that up to his own ego being piqued at her choosing to spend time with someone else over him. Then he'd met him...Todd, Ted...whatever, he had met him and seen an element of himself reflected back and although he'd been irritated at first he was soon strangely happy, because that meant she still wanted him, she was still his and somehow that was important.

Then had come that day when John had found him in the drugs den. He'd known deep down that what he was doing was stupid and risky, he'd justified it to himself that there was no other way, that making drugs his weak spot would work to his advantage later with Magnussen. But on reflection he had been lonely and bored and the lure of the drugs had been too strong. It hadn't been worth it though. The look of disappointment and disgust on Molly's face had almost broken him.

He hadn't shown it though. No, he'd typically hit back with a barb about her failed engagement but that was only to cover the pain he'd felt at failing her and that was when he knew he felt more than friendship for her.

He'd ignored it at first thinking it would go away but she had been the first person he'd thought of at the moment that he'd been shot. It was her he trusted and her he'd wanted to hear. He'd wanted her face to be the last he saw as he faded into blackness.

When he was recovering he had half hoped she would come to him, nurse him, but when push had come to shove and he'd awoken to find her quietly sitting by his bedside he'd lashed out once more, throwing her own compassion and caring back in her face. He regretted what he'd said and done quite quickly, but he'd been scared, scared of what he might say in a moment of vulnerability and where that might lead and he hadn't been ready.

He still wasn't sure he was ready but he couldn't get her out of his mind, out of his heart and it was becoming unbearable.

The worst time had been Christmas, not because of the 'holiday season' or any other mawkish nonsense. No Christmas had been when he'd shot another man dead in cold blood. He'd gone over and over it in the time since and he was satisfied that there had been no other way but it had almost had him sent on a one-way mission that he would never come back from.

Even his brother couldn't help him this time and he had got on that plane thinking he would never return, never see her face again. He hadn't been able to say goodbye to her, he had known that no matter how stoic he could appear to John, Molly would see right through him. She always had. He was surprised she hadn't yet seen how he felt about her but he put that down to her innate lack of self-belief when it came to him. She didn't think he would ever love her so she couldn't see it even when it was right in front of her.

When the call had come through, mere minutes after the plane had taken off, signalling his return the one thought on his mind was Molly. He could no longer do nothing, he had to be with her, but how, when? Was it safe for her if Moriarty were back? These were the thoughts that plagued his mind and yet he knew if he prevaricated that there would always be something, some reason for them not to be together. He knew being with her was selfish, he wouldn't be a good partner by any stretch of the imagination and on top of that she could become a target but not being with her was now more of a distraction than the alternative.

So what should he do now? Walk into Barts with a bunch of flowers and ask her out? Apart from the fact that it wasn't his style, after all these years of rejection from him she would probably laugh in his face, let him see what it was like to be humiliated and rejected for once. Whilst he agreed he probably deserved it he couldn't quite bring himself to actually suffer it.

No he needed to be more subtle than that, to lay out the groundwork more carefully, work himself into a position where it just happened naturally without having to debase himself into making some embarrassingly sentimental speech. He just needed to wait for the right opportunity to present itself.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

It took a few weeks but present itself it did. Normally this type of case wouldn't have even warranted a second read but Sherlock immediately saw the potential.

John was gobsmacked to say the least. 'This case! This is the one that interests you. It's barely even a five.'

Sherlock was keen to not let John realise the real reason but it was easy enough to pull the wool over his eyes, 'as normal John you see but do not observe.'

'Well I hope you realise that I can't and won't come with you. Mary only had Elizabeth two weeks ago and it's far too early for me to be leaving them for any substantial length of time. You'll have to go alone.'

Sherlock frowned, 'you know I can't do that, I need an assistant. Anyway you wouldn't be appropriate.'

John tilted his head, 'why?'

'I need to be undercover and whilst we could pose as a gay couple I'm not sure you would be able to be convincing enough.'

John narrowed his eyes at this, thinking through the implications of Sherlock being able to carry it off but before he could say anything Sherlock continued.

'There's only one person suitable, it will have to be Molly.'

John spluttered, 'Molly...Molly Hooper...'

Now it was Sherlock's turn to look confused, 'yes, Molly Hooper. I fail to see why that is amusing you...and I do wish you would stop repeating what I'm saying it makes you look even more idiotic than normal.'

'Right, well, thanks for that Sherlock!'

Sherlock stood up and made his way over to where his coat and scarf were hung up.

'Where are you off too?' John stood watching him.

'Off to Barts, no time like the present John, there's a case to be solved.'

John picked up his own coat and started putting it on. Sherlock frowned as he looked at him, 'where are you going?'

'Oh, I'm coming with you. I wouldn't miss this conversation for the world.' Sherlock just huffed but led the way out.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

They found Molly behind a pile of paperwork in the lab, she almost looked relieved to see them; giving her a chance, as it did, to take a break.

'Hi John, Sherlock. What do you need?'

John leant on a nearby table, arms folded and a smirk on his face as he watched Sherlock walk up to Molly with his hands clasped behind his back.

'I have a case and I need you to accompany me Molly, it's based up on Saddleworth moor which is just outside Manchester. Obviously with Mary having recently given birth John doesn't feel able to assist.'

'What? No, Sherlock I can't just up and leave everything. In case you hadn't noticed I have a job, a life, not to mention Toby, my cat, would need looking after.'

'You have plenty of holidays owing to you; I overheard Mike only last week reprimanding you because it needs using up. I've already arranged for Mrs Hudson to look after Toby, she's quite keen, as for you having a life...'

Molly held up her hand, 'for the sake of our friendship Sherlock I suggest you stop right there.' She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed, 'Well, when are you looking to go and for how long?'

'We would need to leave tomorrow. It should only be for a couple of days but pack for a week just in case. I spoke to Mike on my way in and he's agreed. Be at Baker St. with Toby by 9.00am.'

Molly rubbed a hand across her face trying not to feel to frustrated with him, 'you spoke to Mike...yes of course you did...OK fine, send me a link to where we're going so I know what kind of things I need to pack.'

Sherlock took out his phone and started tapping on the screen, 'doing it now. I'll see you tomorrow then Molly.' He turned to walk away but John intervened, 'hang on, you haven't told her the best bit yet.'

He grinned at Sherlock's angry expression and Molly's bemused one as she looked back up at the two of them.

Sherlock cleared his throat and swung back round, 'yes, I forgot, we'll be undercover so you'll be posing as my wife.'

You know what I'm going to ask now don't you? I'm needy and insecure, I need your review so I know that you like it...please, pretty please.