A/N: Another AU/missing scene from 'A Scandal in Belgravia.' I was intrigued by what Sherlock might have said while he was drugged, this is my answer. Hope you enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Loose Lips

"I'll burn the heart out of you…that's what he'd said John, don't you see? He meant her. We have to stop him," Sherlock muttered from where he was slumped against the car door.

"We will, Sherlock," John said, trying to be reassuring, "you need to rest first."

Sherlock drummed his fingers against his knee, "She's pretty; don't you think she's pretty John?"

John shot him an odd look, but Sherlock wasn't really paying attention to him.

"I think she's pretty," he said absently, still drumming his fingers, "burn the heart out of you…" he mumbled, "how did he know? How could he possibly know?"

"You really should calm down, Sherlock," John counselled.

"I can't…he's out there, watching," Sherlock shot an agitated glance out the window, "always watching…watching her…if he hurts her…"

"Why would he want to hurt her?" John asked, genuinely confused, "And why would you care?"

Sherlock shot him a dark look, "She's different."

John raised both eyebrows in surprise, "Women usually are."

"She's not just any woman, she's the woman," Sherlock corrected him.

John gaped at him, "The-? Sherlock, you're not suggesting-?"

"I'm not suggesting anything," Sherlock interrupted him, irritated, "I never suggest anything, I postulate the truth."

"Trust you to use big words when you're drugged," John commented sarcastically as the cab came to a stop and he leant over the pay the driver.

"Easy now," John counselled as he half-carried the other man up the stairs to their flat.

"We don't have time for this," Sherlock grumbled, "we need to get to St. Bart's."

"All in good time," John assured him as he manoeuvred Sherlock towards his bedroom.

"I'm fine," Sherlock insisted as he fell face first onto the bed.

"Of course you are," John agreed sarcastically as he rolled him onto his back and removed his shoes.

"I don't need your help," Sherlock grumbled as John pulled the sheet over him.

"My mistake."

"And I certainly don't want it," Sherlock added, rolling onto his side.

"I got that, but thanks for pointing it out anyway," John replied easily.

"I want Molly," Sherlock huffed.

John froze, "Sorry, what?"

"You heard me," Sherlock grumbled, "I want Molly," he repeated, looking back over his shoulder, "she's much better at this than you are."

John gaped at him in surprise, "What?"

"No offence," Sherlock added, closing his eyes and tugging the sheet tighter around his shoulders.

"Molly? Molly Hooper?" John asked, incredulous.

Sherlock gave a long suffering sigh, "Is there another Molly?"

"No…but…"

"For someone who works with the dead she has excellent bedside manner," Sherlock explained, sounding a little drowsy, "from what I recall."

"From what you-? Sherlock, what are you talking about?" John demanded.

Sherlock's only reply was a loud snore and John threw his hands up in defeat.

"You are impossible, do you know that?" he told the unconscious man, "Absolutely impossible," he muttered, leaving the room.

He sat down with a huff, glancing in the direction of Sherlock's room as he did so.

Whatever The Woman had given him had certainly loosened his tongue; John thought back over their conversation trying to make sense of it. He had been so certain that Sherlock had been talking about Irene Adler but his mention of Molly had confused him, was it unrelated or had he been talking about her all along?

He sighed heavily as he decided that the best thing he could do would be to pretend the conversation had never happened. Sherlock wasn't himself and it wouldn't be fair to try to infer anything from his ramblings.

Besides, knowing his luck, he'd get it wrong anyway.

John glanced at his door again, he was sure about one thing though: Sherlock wasn't as immune from sentiment as he liked everyone to believe.