"No, I don't. Explain it to me!" Sherlock was at a loss. For the first time ever he didn't understand his friend, and he didn't quite like this new feeling.

"At last… the famous detective asks…" John spoke softly. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything. Just tell me, John."

John remained standing close to Sherlock, sliding his hand downwards, along his friend's neckline towards Sherlock's chest, touching his shoulder briefly, further down his arm, grabbing his hand, entwining their fingers. His lips were very, dangerously close to Sherlock's, but, strangely enough, Sherlock didn't feel the urge to run away and hide. Molly had indeed taught him something!

Suddenly, John backed away, letting go of Sherlock's hand, and seated himself in his armchair, motioning Sherlock to sit down too, crossing his legs.

"Well, Sherlock… I truly had a bet with Anderson, would you believe. When he texted me you were leaving with Molly, I decided to follow you, I hadn't really anticipated that, you see. The pictures, the press, it seemed the only way I could stop you from making one of the biggest mistakes in your life. You don't give a penny for talk, but I know Molly did. I am their source. Mycroft's yours?"

"Mycroft found it out, yes," Sherlock admitted, finally seeing it. "When will you stop this?"

John inhaled and exhaled deeply before looking at Sherlock. "You know when, dearest Sherlock. You know."

John's phone suddenly rang, and he picked up without excusing himself.

- "Yes?"

- "Hmm hmm, I see. When?"

- "More information?" he asked, looking at Sherlock now. "Can be done. I'll look it up for you. I'll call you, when it suits ME!" He hung up and smiled at Sherlock. "Any more questions? No, wait, I'll make tea first."

"Since when?" Sherlock asked, sipping from his tea.

"Oh, since you and I ran after that cab. I loved you, there and then. How could you ever fall for Molly, the grey lab-mouse?"

"Oh, so now I must decide between you and Molly?"

"No. I chose for you. You can pick the hard way, or the easy way. THAT is your choice."

"But what if I love Molly?"

John shaked his head compassionately. "You, loving Molly? Dear me, Sherlock. Dear me."

"You screamed the loudest that we are not a couple."

"We weren't a couple. I couldn't admit it, not without knowing your feelings. Please, Sherlock.. will you tell me," John begged. "I love you, please, say something! Seeing you with Molly was absolute torture, do you understand? I can't live without you, not anymore. The whole world seems to know, except you. Please, Sherlock. Say something." He leaned forwards, eager to hear the long-awaited words, his eyes pleading.

Sherlock remained silent, studying John intensly. "Something is wrong here, John. I don't know what it is yet, but I'll find out."

A little smiled played around John's mouth, inviting Sherlock to play his game along.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "You are punishing me, because I did something. No, I didn't do anything, and that is what bothers you."

"Good, go on."

Sherlock's brain was working its hardest, but he was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell.

Both men waited, and suddenly the door burst open, and Mrs Hudson, Molly, Lestrade, Anderson, Mike, Sally and several others walked into the room.

Lestrade was the first to ask. "How did it go, John?"

"Sorry, guys, You are too early. He hasn't figured out yet."

Sherlock looked from one to the other. "John? Explain. What is going on here?"

John smiled. "Me, proving a point."

"Why - What point?" Sherlock's face was still blank.

"That you are a bastard because you choose to be. You can be loving, and dedicated and caring, if you choose to be."

"And why would you want to prove that?"

John raised an eyebrow, remaining silent.

"Come on, John." Sherlock was feeling irritated.

"You forgot my birthday, you sod!"

"Oh…"

Mrs Hudson brought in a cake, presents were given to John, and some songs were sung. All in all, a very cheery birthday. Well, belated cheery birthday. And his best friend didn't have a gift to give him.

When the guests had left some hours later, Sherlock and John were alone in 221B's sittingroom again.

After a while, Sherlock coughed nervously and asked: "so you arranged all that, just to make me feel like an idiot? I had no idea birthdays were so important to you."

"I did."

"You played well. Being, well, you know…"

"Thanks. In fact, your face had the same impression as back then at the swimming pool. Did you think I was some sort of weird maniac?" John giggled

Sherlock sighed and admitted reluctantly: "yes, I did. Could hardly believe it. You have really made your point, I should pay more attention to you. I'm sorry I forgot your birthday, John."

John smiled. "Apologies accepted."

After a short silence, Sherlock had one last question left. "What about the press?"

"Oh, when I stop feeding them, they'll back off soon. No worries about that."

At eleven o'clock, John made for the door. "I'm off to bed. By the way, it's not just me you should be paying more attention too. I had some very willing participants in my scheme. And no, I am not talking about Anderson." And with a meaningful look, John left for his bedroom, leaving Sherlock pondering his words.

The darkened lab slowly came back to life after a night of loneliness. Molly Hooper clicked on the lights, dumping her coat and back on the nearest aluminium table. She sighed, a long day lay ahead of her.

"You always start this early?" The deep voice sounded like a thunderbolt through the room. Molly started, but when she saw him sitting there, at the desk where they had been the day before yesterday too, she glanced the sleuth's face, looking for signs where they were standing. On friendly footing or not?

"Sit down, please," he motioned.

Molly sat down immediately, looking, almost staring, at Sherlock. He came back, to her. His curls were coal black, his face as if made of marble.

"John told me. You guys did a nice job, fooling me like that."

Molly only nodded.

"I've always said sentiment is the grid in the equipment," he added, scanning Molly's face sharply.

Her complexion went red, she was blushing again.

Suddenly Sherlock smiled, chuckled. "Sod the equipment. Here, fancy a coffee?" he asked, while grabbing the two cardboard cups from underneath the table. "It's Starbuck's I fear, I was in a hurry."

One thing led to another, and soon the coffee stood forgotten on the table. Cold.

"Erm, Molly? The game is over… John told him, you know," Anderson stood in the doorway, looking at the two he interrupted during their kiss, almost laughing himself to death. "Are you still playing John's game? It's ended, freak, but Molly probably didn't understand."

"Hello Anderson, thank you for stating the absolute obvious. As always, you've got it wrong. Please leave," Sherlock answered, closing the door in the forensic's face. Turning back to Molly, his eyes softened, a slight smile around his mouth.

From behind the door, Anderson's muffled voice could still be heard. "Get a room, you two!"

"What do you think, Molly? The lab, will it do?" Sherlock's deep voice was inviting, irresistably inviting.

And what was the girl supposed to do, other than barricading the door, letting down the blinds, closing the curtuins, locking the world out, and murmuring "I am so going to teach you something!"?

Well, guys and girls..

Thank you for staying with me through this one. I hope the turns were believeable, and that you've enjoyed it. I'm afraid this is the end of the Adventure of the Blind Date, but there will be loads of other stories, as my "plot bunnies" (nope, not my term) still haven't eaten me alive :) Please, feel free to leave a comment, any suggestions or requests for further stories will of course be taking in account!