And here is the final installment...I'm kinda sad. Enjoy!

Chapter Twelve


Molly had gone to The White Horse one final time. She bid Bianca and the ladies goodbye, and started to walk out. She looked over to the bar, where a tearful Paul stood, a single red rose in his hand. She ran over to him, and pressed a kiss to his wrinkled cheek. He patted her arm, and she smiled down to him. Their exchange was wordless, but spoke volumes to her. Eventually life had gone back to normal, with one slight change. She had Sherlock wrapped around her delicate finger. He was still cruel at times, and often would go days without speaking to her, much in the same way he treated John. But when he grew bored, or when he needed to muddle through the details of a case, she received a lavish amount of attention. He would come visit her at the hospital, sometimes to use her lab equipment or to nick body parts. Other times, it was for far more nefarious purposes. Molly enjoyed the new control she held over the man who had reduced her to a puddle for so many years. She felt more confident, and no longer stuttered when he let his sociopathic tendencies fly harsh words at her. It was a far better partnership for the both of them


Molly had left St. Bart's and headed home one day. When she arrived, her things were being placed into boxes, and the boxes onto a moving truck. She wandered through the rooms, trying to find a face she knew. He stood there, by the window of her bedroom, gazing out to the street.

''Sherlock? What's going on?" She asked as she touched his arm. He turned and smiled at her.

''I told you we would arrange for something. I have taken the liberty of finding you a much more affordable flat with a terrific manager. Much closer to the hospital, as well as to me.'' He said, his chin raising proudly. Molly's eyebrow raised, unsure of this ''marvelous'' location.

''Oh? And where, pray tell, did you find such wonderful accommodations?'' She smirked.

''221C Baker Street. I realize, of course, it is a basement apartment; but I assure you, Mrs. Hudson is London's finest landlady, and the neighbors upstairs are quite keen.'' He grinned at her boyishly. She giggled. The two oversaw the rest of the move, as the workers loaded the things into the truck, and drove to her new home. They swiftly unpacked things, and had set them up to her exact specifications.

''Where did you find such brilliant movers?" She asked curiously. Sherlock smiled from the corner of his mouth.

''Oh, my big brother owed me a favor. Hardly a tall order to deliver upon.'' She pulled him down to her face by the lapels of his coat, and kissed him firmly on the mouth.


It had been a month since Molly's move, and she had settled into the new living arrangement perfectly. She had grown quite attached to Mrs. Hudson already, and she often would visit with her for hours on end. She had decided she missed certain aspects of her old second job. She decided that she wanted to fix that feeling and soon sought out to change it.


Sherlock heard a knock at the door. He called for her to enter, having already deduced that it was, in fact, Molly at the door. She entered, and stood in the doorway.

''Sherlock, there's something downstairs you need to have a look at.'' She said, sounding almost shy. Sherlock grumbled impatiently, as he gazed up from his microscope.

''Not now, Molly. I'm in the middle of an experiment.'' He said childishly. Molly walked over to him, the sound of her high heels drawing his head up to see her. She pulled on his arm from the crook of his elbow.

''NOW. Sherlock.'' She demanded, her face deviously authoritative. Sherlock's eyes lit up, and he soon found himself following her down the stairs to her flat. He loved how bossy Molly had become with him at times, and it quickly became a form of foreplay for them. Molly opened the door to her flat, and guided him in through the door of her bedroom. His eyes widened with excitement at what he saw.

In the corner of the room, stretching from floor to ceiling, was a large, silver pole. It was held in place by tension plates on either end, and gleamed with an unused shimmer. Sherlock felt himself being pushed onto the bed, and he snapped his attention to Molly, who had begun to strip off her coat. She winked at him, and walked to press the 'play' button on her CD player.

Sherlock leaned back and enjoyed the show.


Well, that's it dears! I figured I'd leave the ending kind of open, just in case. As of right now, this concludes this lovely little tale, as all good things must eventually come to an end. If you have a prompt that you'd like me to take a swing at, I'm open for that. Thank you so much for the overwhelmingly awesome support through this one. Love you all dearies!