Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. Marvel owns Loki and Darcy Lewis. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, and this story is un-betaed, so please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

Previously...

"DID YOU MISS ME?".


"Who took them?". Loki's voice was only apparently calm. His mind was already planning the atrocious tortures he would inflict to the fool who had dared to kidnap his Darcy.

Sherlock stared at the writing on the mirror for a last time, before answering. "He's my nemesis. I saw him falling dead, yet he's still here, threatening the people I hold most dear".

"He will wish he had remained in Hel, because I will torment him from here to eternity. His pleas to end his agony will fall on deaf ears, since I will have no peace until I witness his last breath leaving his body" the God promised, his tone growing darker.

Sherlock could only nod; they needed to hurry, because every second could be vital. Moriarty had not made a move since his announcement on every screen all over the country that he was alive; actually, he was almost convinced that it had all been Mycroft's doing, trying to save him to certain death.

But now...just the thought of Molly in Moriarty's hands made his blood boil, and the memories of his pathologist crowded in his mind. The way she looked when she was barely awake, or the light in her eyes when she was in the morgue, doing her job...the feeling of her skin under his fingertips, the sound of her laughter at her own jokes...

Unbeknown to him, the God was having a similar recollection. He still couldn't understand how he had fallen in love with a snarky, irreverent Midgardian woman like Darcy Lewis. She was not elegant and polished like the Asgardian aristocrats he was used to: she was anything but refined. She was honest, instead, and clever, even more than her boss, Jane Foster. Her heart, so forgiving, and her mind, full of wits, were like a magnet, which had captured him.

The sound of a text arriving on Sherlock's smartphone interrupted their reverie. The consulting detective opened it immediately, waiting for Moriarty's first clue; instead, it was a text from Mycroft.

"I SUGGEST YOU LEAVE THE RESTROOM, AND CHECK THE NEXT ALLEY - MH"

Loki saw Sherlock ran outside, and followed him, hot on his heels. Finally the consulting detective stopped in front of a narrow passage, and the God almost stumbled on him.

"What's going on? Did your archenemy tell you where-". He stopped in mid-sentence, because the sight before his eyes took literally his breath away: his Darcy, and her cousin, were proceeding to tie down two unconscious brute-looking men, and only Sherlock's strangled "Molly!" interrupted them.

"Hey, took you long enough!" Darcy welcomed them. Molly finished to secure them to a pole with her long scarf, and nodded to her boyfriend, who still looked flabbergasted. "Sherlock, I left my bag in the restroom, would you please phone Lestrade and tell him to take in custody these two idiots?"

The consulting detective and the God of Mischief shared an incredulous look, and started to speak at the same time. "How...how did you do it?".

Darcy shrugged. "I managed to take my taser, and I zapped one...then Molly kicked the other very hard where the sun doesn't shine, and delivered a nasty hook just afterwards. Nice moves, Molly, by the way...have you taken self-defence classes?".

"No, just a few lessons from an ex-CIA assassin. Mary married Sherlock's best friend, John and then shot my consulting detective, a while ago. She owed me, in a sense..." Molly said, and finally noticed Sherlock's bewildered expression. Loki was already hugging his Darcy, complimenting her for her bravery.

"Sherlock...are you ok?" the pathologist asked, approaching him tentatively. His possessive kiss took her by surprise, but she quickly melted in his embrace. "Not that I'm complaining, but...you seem perturbed, Sherlock".

"Perturbed? Two morons tried to kidnap you and your cousin, and for a moment I feared I had lost you...forever". Sherlock took a deep breath, and dropped down on one knee. Darcy's squeaking "Oh. My. God!" and Loki trying to hush her with a quick kiss didn't stop him.

"Molly Hooper, I've underestimated you again. I hope you will honour me, by accepting to live the rest of our lives together, in order to let me properly apologise for my failure, every single day. So will you, Molly Hooper -".

"Yes!" Molly half-shouted, throwing her arms around him and making them fall.

"But I didn't finish my question..." Sherlock argued.

"She said yes, I think you don't need another answer, do you, cousin?" Darcy interjected, and Loki smirked, conjuring a bottle of champagne out of nowhere.

Molly blinked once, twice, and then turned to her cousin, her flat tone promising a future scolding. "Darcy...do you have anything to tell me, dear cousin?".

The end

I think this is the crackiest thing I've ever written. Thanks for reading...and be kind, let me know what you think!