Chapter 1

Great, you've made it over from The Marriage Sham.

And so the story continues. Again I've started with a T rating but it will change over to M eventually no doubt about it :).

Sherlock has been away dismantling Moriarty's network and this story picks up on his return at the beginning of Season 3.

Disclaimer: I owe it all to ACD, Moffat and Gatiss. Thank you.

It had been eighteen months. Eighteen months since Molly had last seen Sherlock Holmes. Her last view of him was as he had left the bedroom of the cottage they had shared, moments after they had...what...made love, had sex. God knows what Sherlock classed it as. He had told her he hadn't regretted it but he'd been gone by morning and she hadn't seen him since.

Yes, she knew he'd rescued her after she'd been drugged by Moran's puppet girlfriend. She knew he'd made sure she got to the hospital to receive treatment but he hadn't been there when she woke up. Instead he'd left it to his brother to 'break up' with her.

The memory of that conversation with Mycroft left a bitter taste in Molly's mouth. He had been so cold, reminding her that she was nothing more than a convenient tool in their plan and a mere distraction for Sherlock before he got on with the real business of dismantling Moriarty's network.

For weeks after she had lived in hope that he would contact her, reach out to her somehow to let her know that he genuinely did care, that it hadn't just been a physical thing between them. But there had been nothing.

She knew he was still alive, out there, somewhere in the world and for that much she was grateful. She had begged Mycroft to let her know if anything 'happened' to Sherlock, and by that they both knew she meant if he had been killed.

Time had moved on, she had returned to her job at Bart's, happy to be back in the comfort of her own cold and clinical domain. She'd met up with John once or twice pleased to see him move on with the receptionist, Mary Morstan, from the surgery where he worked. She'd met her too, with John, and they were good together. Mary had really helped John come to terms with Sherlock's death and see the positives in life again. She wasn't too sure about his new moustache though. She hadn't said anything but it made him look older, more serious. Maybe that's how he felt now.

She'd even moved on herself. She'd been dating Tom for just over six months. They'd met through an old, mutual university friend and had hit it off from day one. If Molly was honest it wasn't exciting or passionate, he was just a good, honest, caring man and whilst she might not feel for him in quite the same way she had for Sherlock she loved him.

She smiled to herself remembering the moment two weeks ago when he'd proposed. It was all very traditional, he'd taken her out for a romantic meal and proposed over dessert. They'd gone back to her flat and made love and if it hadn't been quite as satisfying as one night in her memory from over a year ago...well, she had tried not to think about it.

She was thinking about Tom whilst she made her way to the locker room at then end of her shift. She was off to the cinema with him that evening and it felt good to have plans that didn't just entail her going back to her flat and curling up with Toby, her cat, and a book or DVD. She finally had a life outside of work.

She opened the door to her locker ready to hang up her lab coat and retrieve her belongings when she saw him...her ghost from the past.

His face reflected back at her in the small mirror attached to the inside of the locker door and for a split second she thought she was seeing things. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him, he looked thinner and paler than he had last time she had seen him and he had a couple of fading bruises as well as a cut lip and what looked like a recently busted nose.

But she didn't care, she didn't care about anything, he was here and he was safe. She felt the bubble of joy rise up in her throat as she turned to face him with a happy smile on her face.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock looked down into Molly's happy, smiling face and felt like a man who had been walking in a desert for a thousand days and had suddenly been offered water.

After John's quite violent reaction to his return the previous night Sherlock had decided to reveal his return to someone he knew would absolutely be happy to see him and Molly wasn't disappointing him.

He'd kept the memory of her tucked away in his mind palace for the last eighteen months. He'd been tempted so many times to go into her room there, to wallow in the calm and the love that she brought him but he hadn't dared. He knew, deep down, that if he'd gone there he wouldn't have wanted to return to the real world. The real world where he was 'dead', on the run, being captured and beaten. He couldn't afford to think about a time where he could be with Molly, kiss her, hold her, make love to her. And yes, he knew he was being sentimental but he had been through so much recently he wanted to indulge, wanted to get back to his old life where he had friends, where he had people's respect and where he was loved by Molly and he no longer cared what Mycroft thought of it all.

He moved towards her, drinking in the sight of her and before she even had chance to say anything more than his name he bent his head down and kissed her.

She smelt and tasted so familiar to him, he felt like he was finally home, back in London where he belonged. She opened her mouth to him, her hands clutching at his lapels. He wrapped his arms around her tiny frame and they fell back against the lockers, his body pressing up against hers. For the first time in months he felt himself reacting to her without having to resort to mental exercises and cold showers to control it.

Her hand made its way up to caress his face and he hesitated for a second when he felt the slide of metal across his cheek. He put his own hand up to cover hers and felt, without doubt, the engagement ring sitting on the third finger of her left hand.

He broke away from her feeling sickness and confusion in the pit of his stomach. He was still holding Molly's left hand and he brought it up between them, looking at her with his eyes narrowed, a wrinkle of concentration between his eyes. This time he looked at her, really looked at her, deducing not just seeing and he saw what he should have spotted before. Molly was no longer his.

MHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly reeled back from Sherlock in shock and disgust at herself. Her left hand was still in Sherlock's grip but she brought her right up to her mouth, touching her lips in disbelief. What had she done? She felt a shard of guilt rip through her at what just happened. How could she have done that to Tom? How could she have forgotten him so quickly and so completely? When Sherlock had bent to kiss her she had thought of nothing but him. He was back, he was here and he wanted her, and in that moment she wanted him too. It was as though her body had a residual memory of him that rose up like a magnet at his touch.

She looked up at Sherlock who looked confused and...and, was that hurt she saw in his eyes. It was so fleeting she couldn't be sure, but as she watched she could almost see the shutters coming down on his eyes. When he raised them to her face again they looked cold, hard.

'I apologise Molly, my actions were inappropriate. It won't happen again.' He paused before continuing, 'I just wanted to let you know of my return, John knows,' at this he grimaced, his hand rising to his face momentarily, ' I am on my way to see Lestrade. I'll no doubt see you in the morgue from time to time.'

With that he turned on his heel and marched out before Molly could stop him.

So I'm really nervous about this sequel, wondering what you will think and hoping that you'll all stay with me, so please, please let me know what you think.

As with The Marriage Sham I'll be posting regular updates.

And to JM (Not Moriarty) who asked for a birthday fic , I do have a little something though it's turned a bit darker and isnt very light and fluffy. Will post sometime tomorrow.