Okaaaaaayyyy Well hello everyone!
Here is my first attempt at a Sherlolly prompt. I am extremely excited and honored to be able to do this! :D please be honest and let me know what you think!
PLEASE READ BEFORE READING THE STORY!
Okayyy so before we get started some basics so no one gets confused! :)
Bold! With no italics – Text Messages
Bold With Italics – Are Inner Thoughts
Strict Italics – emphasis on a word and written words or lettes/notes only
Prompt from Mischief~with~Sandra
"What will it take?" prompted Molly, straightening her back, a new boldness and daring attitude surging through her. An unguarded expression gracing her features as she steps towards Moriarty, "Everyone has a price. What's yours? What will it take for you to leave Sherlock alone? To stop this maddening game you continue to try to engage him in, even now. So, I'm asking you, what is it you want that will end this game with him once and for all."
A grin slowly stretched across Moriarty's face. Spinning around and clapping his hands as if he knew this moment had arrived.
"My price, as you so delicately put it my dear, sweet Molly…"
She shifted quietly from foot to foot, a beat passed on as Molly waited for his answer. Then like lightning, he stepped directly into her personal space only to lean his head down next to her ear and whisper the one word that sent fear straight into her bones.
Her eyes widened at what he could possibly be implying. What did he mean byme?She thought to herself.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, sweetheart. I have had you once already and frankly... you're not my cup of tea, if you know what I mean." Moriarty's smile became a wry grin, wicked as it became wider and wider. Molly almost became sick as she remembered when she once found his smile along with the man himself enchanting. What was she thinking? Sherlock was right; she really did need to swear off all future endeavors of relationships.
"What are you suggesting then if not... well if not that?" Molly added the word as if it stuck to her tongue and refused to leave her mouth.
"Well, a variety of things, really. Whether that may entail tampering with autopsy reports, or putting yourself, or those you care about in danger. Oh, we'll get into the details later, love! We'll become gal pals, you'll see!" He said with such a singsong voice, face bright and cheery to only have it drop a moment later.
They were in her morgue. She prayed that Sherlock would saunter in at any moment and see the exchange, she thought of clever ways that she could leave him clues of this encounter, but she knew of none. Would Moriarty take her with him, of course he would. What would she do about work? She had a job; they needed her at Bart's. She was their lead pathologist and Mike was out on family leave. A wave of panic flooded over her, yet the one that seemed to be most apparent, the one that should be bothering her most, staring her right in the face was the last one on her mind.
Jim—no, Moriarty walked back over to her with a frown upon his face.
"I know I can't have you locked up with me at all times Moll doll..." he said to her running his hand through some strands of her brown blonde hair. "Not to mention, you'd be such a bore!" he yelled in her face which caused the young pathologist to flinch back instinctively. He smiled.
"So, I leave you with this, love. It will be your new phone. Don't think of leaving it anywhere. I will have eyes on you at all times, do you understand?" He looked at her, his eyes dark, almost black in color. She thought they once had swirls of brown, but now they seemed to hold nothing. It did nothing for the frame of his face. The paleness that was his features were so drastic, which was possibly the point. His hair a dark brown, almost black cut close to his head. His face seemed quite small, like the rest of him. With him so close, she realized how great he wasn't after all, Jim from IT, heh. Molly wished she could see the cool blue green gray of Sherlock's eyes, look into his face and watch a slight curl just fall right over one of his dark eyebrows. She would smirk at how playful his hair would try to be. He would make her feel safe, but right now all she felt was alone. She nodded slightly.
She had to remember why she was doing this. Why she was letting Moriarty even come close to her, even touch her. She was doing it for the man with the blue green gray eyes, her detective. Sure, he wasn't really hers, but no one needed to know that. Well, everyone knew that. But in her mind he was hers. This man had taken enough out of her life. Moriarty made her lose enough sleep, made her feel like more of a fool than she could've ever imagined. He used her once to get to the man she cared for, and she'll be damned if he'll do it anymore. This time Molly will protect Sherlock.
"Very good!" he said as his voice went up at the end. "You do listen well, don't you, pet?" he asked her as he pet her head ever so gently. She looked him straight in the eyes, her look never wavering. She was frightened yes, but she refused to show any more fear than she already had.
"Don't you?!" Moriarty yelled as he pulled her hair tightly which caused her to yelp in pain.
"I always remembered you liked it rough." he cooed.
"Screw you Moriarty!" Molly yelled. He could see the anger in her eyes and it only made the man fill with glee. It was what he lived for after all.
"Keep talking like that and I just might sugar..." He purred. "I can always make an exception for you." he whispered in her ear and pulled her close. She tried pulling away, but he was surprisingly strong for his size. He licked her ear and the silhouette of her jaw.
Molly clenched her teeth together trying to fight off the urge of conflicting emotions within her. It infuriated her that at a time like this, her body would betray her in such a way, and to a man like him!
How could you?! Her mind seethed.
He finally let go and gracefully put his hands behind his back.
"You will hear from me soon, Molly dear and whatever you do, make sure to answer my calls, yes? A life may depend on it." he made sure to weigh his last words heavily. He said them with such finality as he sharply turned on his heels and walked out of the morgue doors.
"Bye!" was all that was heard.
Molly collapsed to the hard linoleum floor of her lab and let out a shaky breath. She looked at the phone in her hands. It looked quite identical to hers, only someone like Sherlock would be able to tell the nuances of a replacement. She wondered if she could go to him. She wondered if Moriarty suspected if she would go to him. Possibly. He would most likely assume she was too weak to deal with situation and do what Molly did best, go to Sherlock. Well, so much Moriarty knew... she wasn't going to go to Sherlock.
… She would go to Mycroft.
Mycroft was the British government after all, and Moriarty never said that she couldn't have any associates, only that Sherlock could not be involved. Moriarty knew better than anyone that Mycroft was more than discreet when it came to the subject of his little brother. The only issue was how could Molly possibly get a hold of a man she only met once, almost a year ago?
When Molly left the lab she decided to catch a taxi home. She shuffled the phone in her hands. She looked through the contacts and saw that all her previous contacts had been moved to this device, so why was it necessary for her to have an entirely new phone?
Molly dear and whatever you do, make sure to answer my calls, yes? A life may depend on it.
His cold voice played over again through her mind like a sick recording. She involuntarily gulped. Had this phone been rigged somehow? She was not tech savvy by any means, so she had no idea what signs she would have to look out for, but she knew of the man's tactics. From his previous 'games' with Sherlock, he seemed to favor bombs, so possibly he had bombs rigged in particular areas of the city triggered to go off if she did not comply. She looked out the window and sighed. What would she do? What could she do? She felt so helpless, but she wanted to help Sherlock. If he was in her place, he would do the same, and he would figure out a plan, so she would do the same.
She finally reached her flat after what seemed like a ride that could go on forever. She paid the cabbie and said goodnight as she took out her keys and headed to the door of her flat. She walked in and hung up her coat and put down her heavy bag. She made sure to put her old phone some place safe where it wouldn't get mixed up with the one Jim—Moriarty had just given her so nothing terrible would happen, she was in fact forgetful after all.
She went to the kitchen and poured some cat food for Toby who weaved in and out of her legs in appreciation. She put a kettle on and popped a frozen meal from the freezer into the microwave. It was after eleven, and she knew she shouldn't really eat so late, under any other circumstances she probably wouldn't. Yet she felt that after the events of this evening she needed something in her stomach to stop her from dry heaving all night.
She sat at her kitchen table anxiously waiting for her microwave to ding, fiddling with the new mobile in her hand. She looked at it pensively. She never felt such frustration for such an un-offensive object, but she assumed it was probably the association the object had to a particular person that caused said frustration. She finally stood up and fixed her coup of tea, little milk and two sugars and took the meal out of the microwave. She plopped it onto the table and ate in silence. The only thing for noise was the sound of her and Toby eating. She looked out her window and saw the lights of London sprawled out before her.
She didn't exactly live in the worst part of the city, but it wasn't glamorous either. It certainly wasn't Baker street. Sherlock. She thought of him as she forced down another bite of the mystery meal she grabbed from the freezer. Her nose scrunched with each bite. She imagined Sherlock deducing her not enjoying the meal and asking her why she would continue eating it in the first place, then John would interject and tell him to sod off and she would giggle as they would bicker at each other like a bunch of old ladies.
She was doing this for him. For Sherlock. He would do this and more for her if he was in her position, or, she'd like to think he would. She threw away the rest of her meal and walked into her bedroom, Toby following suit. She'd take a shower in the morning. She didn't start her shift until eleven so she could sleep in somewhat. She laid down on the bed after changing out of her khakis and pulling of her button up top. She put on a light pink camisole and slept only in that and her underwear. She took in her room and slipped her old phone into the top drawer of the night stand. She curled her legs and Toby laid inside the half circle it made. She put the phone down that Moriarty had given her but not before it went off with a light beep. She opened it hesitantly and looked at the bright screen eyes hurting from her pupils adjusting to the light.
It was a text and it simply read:
Good night Molly dear, sleep well. I will speak to you in the morning.
She clasped the phone shut aggressively and put it down frantically with a thud. She turned around on the bed and pulled the sheets up top her chin rousing Toby out of his comfortable position. Molly wouldn't sleep well tonight. Tears began falling from her normal rosy cheeks. No, she would not sleep well.
Molly awoke the next morning feeling as if she had been out on a night drinking with Mary. She knew this wasn't the case, but nevertheless, she felt completely drained. She knew it had to do obviously with the fact of seeing Jim—Moriarty again and the emotions that it stirred up within her. Not to mention what had happened through the rest of the evening. She felt completely horrible that Moriarty had used her as a pawn to get to Sherlock in such a way. Using her emotionally as Jim from IT, and her being so gullible as to buy it.
She gathered clothing to take to the bathroom; surprisingly it was early, seven am according to her alarm clock, so she opted on taking a bath. Her body certainly needed it. She pulled out her aroma therapy bath soaps and put her clothes on the bench on the other side of the bathroom. As she undressed she thought of the text that she received from Jim last night
I wonder what he meant by it? Does he have something for me to do already? She thought as she turned off the bath water and tested the temperature. Deciding it was just right; she hopped in and just laid there. She allowed her muscles to seep in the heat of the water and loosen from all the tension that they had, possibly from the last twenty four hours. She let out an audible sigh at how wonderful it really felt to just be able to have a nice long wonderful soak in her tub with no disruptions.
Her doorbell rang. Well it couldn't last forever. She thought. She threw on her light bath robe and scurried to the front door. She looked in the living room and saw a sleek white box that was sitting on the sofa that wasn't there last night and her chest tightened. Her breath came quicker and her intake was much more erratic. Here she was, Molly Hooper standing at the front door of her flat answering her door to a random stranger with a random box in her living room, dressed in her bath robe and no weapon to arm herself with. She grabbed the nearest thing, which just so happened to be her bright purple umbrella and opened the door defensively.
"What do you want?!" She said panic written all over her features. He face instantly fell and her back straightened at the sight in front of her.
"Yes, I have one of those as well. Hello, Miss Hooper." Said the tall man standing in the door frame tight smile gracing his features.
"I—I'm sorry." She began.
"Quite all right, given the circumstances. Not much I'm sure an umbrella could do against Moriarty or his men though." This time he allowed a smirk upon his face.
"Oh—oh right, yes… please do come in!" Molly ushered the man forward into her flat hanging her umbrella on the coat hanger behind the door.
He walked to the kitchen and sat down gracefully as he brought his folder upon the table.
"I believe you know who I am Miss Hooper." He began to say.
"Well yes, you're Sherlock's brother… Mycroft." Molly fumbled as she began making tea for her and her guest.
"Very good. Now, I have been informed you were contacted by Moriarty and given a proposition… is that correct?" He said looking up at her petite frame that faced away from him as she made the tray of biscuits she prepared to go along with the tea.
She looked quickly over her shoulder at him, "Yes." She said and began working at the counter again.
"And? What was his offer? Also… what did you receive in return?" He seemed perplexed as to what Molly's motivation would be in all of this. She brought the tray over and sat it in front of the both of them and poured Mycroft and her a cup of tea. He took it and nodded to her his thanks and took a slight sip waiting for her answer.
"He would leave Sherlock alone if…" Molly began as she averted her gaze from the older Holmes brother and took a quick sip of her tea.
"If?" Mycroft said impatiently.
"If I were to offer myself in exchange." She said plainly as she took a bite of one of the biscuits on her small plate. Mycroft's eyes widened yet only slightly, but she noticed. Sherlock noticed people, Molly noticed emotions.
"And what exactly… does that entail Miss Hooper?" Mycroft asked her, genuinely curious it seemed.
"Molly." She said to him and smiled. "Hmm?" He looked at her passively. "Call me Molly. I don't know what that entails exactly yet to be honest." She said quite nervously. She didn't, she wish she did. She could've possibly lived with maybe being with Moriarty as a partner for a little while, but what if he made her kill? What if he tortured her? She didn't know what to think anymore.
"Well, I'm sure that box can tell us a little more about what your new… association with Moriarty entails." Mycroft said as he allowed his eyes to wander to the white box in question sitting innocently on the sofa.
Molly gulped and stood up from her seat gingerly to walk over to the box in question. She picked the box up and found it rather light. It had a dusty rose ribbon wrapped around it loosely. So it was a gift. She scoffed. She took the ribbon off and gasped at the contents.
Inside was an emerald green silk gown that looked to be very fitting and flattering to her figure. She didn't wonder how he had guessed her size, but she took the dress out and held it to her small frame.
"Well, the man certainly does have taste." Mycroft added lifting his glass up in appreciation. "So, you will be escorting him somewhere, obviously." He seemed to deduce.
"I suppose?" Molly concluded. Would that be it? If that was it, she could deal with that. She hoped. She went back into the dress box and found a smaller box and an envelope inside. She lifted the box and opened it to find a necklace and earring set to match the dress folded over in her right hand. Gold necklace with an emerald stone drop in the middle and emerald drop earrings. She had to admit they were beautiful. She put the jewelry box down and opened the letter.
I didn't want to wake you; you looked so peaceful this morning sleeping!
This dress is for you. I will see you this evening. You will wear this with those gold strap
heels I like. You know the ones I'm talking about. A car will meet you outside your flat no later than 7 pm. You will not be late. Do you understand?
Can't wait to see you, Darling!
Her skin began to crawl. He had been in her flat. He had been there this morning. He had seen her sleep. She looked at Mycroft with the letter in her hand she began to shake. She saw a wave of concern grace Mycroft's features for only a moment and she seemed to almost realize that he might not be as good at hiding his emotions as his little brother may be.
"Something wrong, Molly?" He said quickly. He had not meant to call her by her first name. Doing that showed he actually had some feeling of concern. That he actually cared. Yet, she was putting herself in the line of fire to protect his only brother, so could it truly hurt to show this woman, this petite doctor that he actually appreciated what she was doing?
She walked over to him and handed him the note. He read it quickly and looked at her face as it began to pale. He supposed he never looked at it from Molly's perspective. No one truly had. She had been the closest to Moriarty. The most intimate that anyone had become, yet somehow came out not dead. She somehow came out alive. Why was that? I suppose it would strike fear into her knowing that a criminal mastermind knew where you slept at night, or where you kept your spare key. What your favorite television show was or where your favorite shop was to grab a coffee. It would frighten anyone, yet no one saw it in Molly's perspective. They only saw Molly as naïve. That she made the mistake of being fooled, but truly, who hadn't been fooled by the hands of Moriarty? Even Sherlock Holmes had been fooled by the man, so why wouldn't a sweet young romantic pathologist like Molly be fooled just the same? Yet no one saw how much danger she could be in, from how close she truly had gotten, how close she truly had become with Jim—not Moriarty, Jim the man behind the mask.
He saw that look in her eyes and he knew what it meant. She was waiting for her turn. She was waiting for when it would be her end. She knew herself that it was strange that she knew so much about the man and was still alive. That she grew to know him so intimately and he allowed her to live, so she was waiting for time, her time to die.
The thought pained him looking at it from that perspective, so he refused to. He straightened his back and cleared his throat to try and think of a way of monitoring Molly without too much attention. He knew how Moriarty worked, so he had to be discreet.
"I'll make sure to have my people on you, so nothing happens to you." Mycroft tried to say reassuringly. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He could only do this for so long. He sat up and grabbed his umbrella and motioned towards the door.
"Please… be careful." Molly began. "I wish no trouble to come to Sherlock. That is the point in all of this; do not get him involved under any circumstance." Molly said firmly.
Mycroft just nodded and faced the door. He turned his head slightly in her direction with his hand on the knob, "For what it's worth Miss Hooper, I sincerely…appreciate what you are doing. For I do not understand to the fullest extent of why, but I am almost certain it has to do of your feelings of sentiment towards my brother." At this point, he turned to face her fully.
"I have always said sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side…" Mycroft began looking at Molly stiffly as she gulped trying to avoid his hard gaze, "Yet, you may be the first to prove me wrong." He said lightly. She shot her eyes up to his gaze. She could see the edges of his brown orbs soften. She refused to cry in front of the older Holmes. She could only imagine what that could cause, she pictured him scrunching his nose up in distaste and taking back every word he had just said if she were to react in such a way.
She nodded firmly and smiled slightly. "Good day, Miss Hooper." He said leaving the door. He turned his head slightly before shutting it, "and be safe." He finished. Then he was gone.
Now. Now she could cry.
Work seemed to go by quite uneventfully until Sherlock arrived. Molly had to stop the steady racing of her heart. Not only from the proximity of him, but because of what she was trying to do to keep him safe.
"Twenty four hours and nothing John! This isn't like him! He's up to something." Sherlock fumed as he discarded his Belstaff along with his scarf on one of the workstations in the lab.
"Molly." He said in her direction. Looking at her only for a brief moment before turning back to John.
"He's breaking his pattern. Something has happened." Sherlock said looking around the room of the morgue, but not really. He was looking through his mind palace possibly trying to think of scenarios as to why Moriarty would all of a sudden abstain contact from the detective.
"What is it?!" Sherlock hissed as he threw his hands in the air. Molly didn't know that he would react in such a manner. She viewed it as a relief that Moriarty was not playing a game of high stakes chess with Sherlock's life; but, as always… Sherlock did love the chase. Molly almost became frustrated at this, but knew it was to be expected.
"Anything interesting Molly?" Sherlock finally faced the petite pathologist as she looked at him eyes wide for a moment.
"Oh, well… nothing really I could say. I have a few parts you could look at. I think Greg said he'll be bringing in a body later on today, but nothing that'll strike your fancy I'm sure." Molly said as she began stacking files on her workstation to bust her hands and eyes away from the detective.
"Right then." Sherlock finished as he sat down in front of the microscope. Molly let out a sigh of relief and began walking over to her table of instruments to inspect them for cleaning when Sherlock gave her a side glance.
"Problem?" He quirked a brow at her. He shot her gaze up to him almost immediately in shock and opened her mouth slightly to form a response. "N—no! of course not! What would I have a problem? Why would there be a problem?" Molly began almost franticly.
"Right Molly, no need to stammer any more than usual, just a question. Carry on." He said dismissively as he began looking at samples through the microscope. Molly's face faltered only slightly at his disinterest in her worried expression. Yet truly, why would it be something new? She always seemed frantic whenever Sherlock turned an eye on her. She went to her office after looking over her instruments to see that it was close to six. She needed an excuse to leave. She had to be home in order to be ready for whatever Jim—Moriarty had planned for her this evening. She had hoped that in her mind it was nothing too horrible, but that would be asking for too much.
Molly gathered her things and quickly began shuffling towards the morgue doors.
"I'll see you later. I have to go, have plans, sorry for heading out so quickly! Make sure to lock everything up, okay, Sherlock? Night!" Molly said as she quickly shuffled out the door. Both John and Sherlock raised their heads from their work to see the small woman race out the morgue doors and down the hallway in a flash. They looked at each other as if trying to come up with a sort of explanation.
"Possibly one of her many attempts at a relationship." Sherlock scoffed going back to his work. John and him sat there in companionable silence but found nothing quite getting done. John noticed Sherlock idly looking around the room from time to time as if checking on something, as if something were missing, but just as soon would go back to his work.
They sat there for what seemed to be all night but was only about 2 hours at best before Sherlock heard his mobile go off with a ding.
"Aha!" he snapped his head up eyes bright with excitement. He looked down at the phone in his hand and willed the text to his vision.
Bloomsbury Ballroom, Don't be late!
And look nice, yes? ;)
Sherlock looked to John and his eyes were sparkling. It was a little past eight. He stood up abruptly and grabbed his Belstaff and scarf off the chrome workstation put it on and headed towards the door.
"Come along John, the game is on!" He smiled as he rushed through morgue doors intent on grabbing a taxi to head for Baker street, John not far behind.
The Bloomsbury Ballroom was not a place Molly had expected to be taken, but it certainly explained Jim—Moriarty's choice of attire. The room was modern and chic, London's elite of elite were here this evening, which only made her, and him being here settle uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach. What could he possibly be up to? He would make some sort of display of power presumably? That was unlikely it seemed, since Sherlock would have no part of it, it would be no fun for him.
"You like a drink, my pet?" he purred into my ear. I was here to make him look normal. That was my ploy she thought. Molly hated the man, but she was not stupid, she knew she had to play the game. She smiled and nodded her head slightly in response and watched him walk away to the bar. She stood around uncomfortably taking in her surroundings.
The room was graced in colors of white and champagne, warm lights along with white roses, lilies and hydrangeas seemed to adorn the tables. Lanterns hung from the ceiling while ivory drapes fell from the ceiling in strategic places. In any other situation, she would appreciate being in such a wonderful location with what appeared to be such an upstanding event. She saw Moriarty talking to what seemed to be a few business men laughing and chatting it up. Men were walking round with champagne flutes and she grabbed one off the tray almost too eagerly.
She allowed her eyes to graze across the room when the landed on an all too familiar pair of blue green gray eyes. They seemed to have found her long before she found him. He was in a tux, much like many of the men here, but he wore a French cut, majority of the men wore bow ties. his suit was black, and shirt was a charcoal gray which he adorned with a beautiful plum colored tie. She almost chuckled at how uncomfortable he looked to be. The suit made him stand out amongst the crowd almost like Molly's dress had, possibly Jim—Moriarty's intension she was sure. Sherlock looked at her for a long moment and took her figure in as if truly wondering if it was the mousy pathologist he had seen only a few hours ago. She had blushed under his gaze.
"Moll Doll!" She cringed. She had hoped he had not heard who was calling her name, she looked back and she could see the gleam in his eyes. A slight smile played on his lips beckoning her to him.
So you called him here then. Her mind seethed in anger. She came storming over to him and the businessmen. She dared a glance back at her detective but saw he had escaped back into the masses, she sighed in sadness in his departure. When she reached Moriarty's side, she saw him smiling.
"Come dear, I think we may need to retire early for the evening, yes?" he said almost to charmingly, but the men in the group seemed to not notice. He snaked his arm around the silkiness of her gown to help further with the facade he was trying to uphold. He weaved them in and out of the mass of people and too them to the back of the ballroom. He sent one quick text and chuckled lightly.
"You promised me you would leave him out of this." Molly said sternly.
'You are quite right, darling. I did. And I will. Yet, you must not know Sherlock. I most surely can not leave him entirely out of the game. What would he think of me then, hmm?" he said to the small woman in his arms. To any onlooker they may have looked as if they were sharing an embrace. A small moment of intimacy together away from the large groups to spent moments alone as a couple, yet that was far from the reality.
Sherlock was scanning the crowd when his phone dinged once more. He looked to John and lightly touched him on the shoulder to grab his attention. He pulled out his phone and hissed under his breath to read the message.
You looked wonderful tonight, friend! Love the purple
should wear it more often! See you soon!
"Dammit!" Sherlock almost threw his hone across the room in a fit of rage, yet it seemed Moriarty put him in a place where he knew he would have to keep his temper in check.
"Ah..." the realization dawned on him. "So it was only the beginning." he said quietly as he grabbed John by the wrist and pulled him to the back exit of the ball room sure that's where Moriarty had headed.
"Wha—where are we going? I barely had a bite to eat!" John said upset.
"Later, John." Sherlock seemed to scold the soldier, which only made him scoff.
Molly's pulse began to quicken and a lump formed into her throat as the car stopped in front of a large warehouse not too far from the ball room. She heard screams coming from within, and she could only feel her waves of panic steadily increasing.
"No need for you to worry Molly dear, we're not here for you." Jim—Moriarty chuckled, "I have some business to attend to before we go home."
We go home? she gulped at the thought. She would be going home with him tonight. What could that possibly mean? Would could he possibly imply? He had already stated that he did not truly fancy her, but that he did also make exceptions, and that she was one of them. The dread at the pit of her stomach was increasing at a larger and swifter pace as they came closer to the screams within the room of the warehouse building.
They walked into the dimly lit room. It only had one light which was focused over the man who sat underneath the light perched in a chair head swaying from left to right. Molly's eyes widened from the man's condition. She could tell the man had been tortured and that it would only be worse she assumed. She gulped audibly and tried looking awy, but Jim looked at her almost in surprise.
"Squeamish, dear? You are most certainly the least I would expect it from given your line of work." he smiled at her. His white teeth looking unnaturally stark against the darkness of the room and made him look even more ghastly.
"I work on the deceased, not alive and nearly dead." Molly spat at him and he barked in laughter at her attitude.
"Oh, I knew I liked you." He purred and pulled her closer. She gulped. She couldn't help it truly, she truly had despised this man in front of her. Any image of Jim from IT was gone. She had tried to keep the memory, hoping she could appeal to that side of him but she quickly realized that, that man had never truly existed. She looked to the man in the chair and saddened.
Moriarty walked up to the man and motioned for someone to pull his face up to him from out of the darkness.
"Moriarty!" The man seemed to say in fear. He had what seemed to be an Italian accent.
"Yes, it's me. Hello dearie. But you did have to expect me, no? You have been quite naughty." Jim said darkly as he stalked closely up to the man. His eyes grew wide at his close proximity. Moriarty grabbed his face and forced him to look into his eyes.
"You lost a valuable client for me, Leo. As you know, that's quite bad for business darlin'." he smiled a toothy grin. Sadly Molly could see everything from this angle and it was like watching a car accident in slow motion, you couldn't help, but you just couldn't look away.
"Sir, I—I promise it'll never happen again!" The man called Leo pleaded with him, hoping to appeal to Moriarty's better nature. Molly looked away and held back her hiss and would not allow her tears to fall, because she knew all too well, that Moriarty had n good side to appeal to.
"You're right, dear friend... it won't happen again. Ever again." Moriarty practically threw the man's face from his hands and nodded his head to the man at his side. The man stepped forward and all she heard was screaming and two gunshots. She looked away. When she turned back, Moriarty was by her side, smiling. The bastard.
"Shall we?" He said holding his arm out to her cordially to escort her to where he would whisk her off away to for the evening.
Molly was grateful that she was given her own room and immediately she locked it. She assumed Jim—Moriarty had been expecting her and had clothes for her, when she went to the closet, she was sadly correct. He had chosen, or someone had chosen the most modern and trendy ensembles possible, which was completely out of the realm for the petite pathologist. She grabbed an ivory camisole and a pair f boy shorts, went to the shower and the readied herself for bed. She refused to eat, and she most certainly refused to speak to the host. She barely wanted to sleep in fear of what may happen to her, but she would otherwise be exhausted for work in the morning, and she couldn't allow that to happen.
When she stepped out of the shower, she brushed her hair, put some lotion on her skin and laid down to sleep for the evening. She would try her best to get a somewhat restful sleep, but she was not sure of how well that would come.
the body of Leo DeMarcus came in around one pm the next day. Sherlock wouldn't have taken the case if he wasn't handed it by Moriarty himself. Apparently the criminal mastermind liked keeping himself busy. While playing social butterfly at an elite social gathering, having Molly witness a terrible death of the man she now had to perform an autopsy on, he also managed to leave clues for Sherlock to find the body, if Molly could do anything, she at least had to take a moment and applaud his energy and multitasking skills, in her mind of course.
"Two clean shots to the head seems to be the cause of death." Molly said rather plainly. She felt empty at the man's death. She had never had something so personal come into her lab. It is true, she didn't know the man, but she had just see him not even twenty four hours ago, and the man died of a mistake not of his own, she found it quite unfair. Yet, when was Moriarty known to be fair?
That was the difference between him and Moriarty. Sherlock of course. Was the fact that Sherlock was fair, he was forgiving. He used his intellect to help others, to help solve cases, murders and to help get criminals like Moriarty off the streets and put in prison where they belong.
Molly looked at him quickly from across the room. She had finished her initial autopsy after the body came in as it was well after four pm right now. Sherlock was looking over the body. He was hunched over, his eyes narrowed and his nosed scrunched just slightly that it made Molly smile. She loved watching him think. John was off grabbing a bite to eat with Mary in the cafeteria since much wasn't really going on. Sherlock must've felt eyes on him as he looked up suddenly and his and Molly's eyes locked briefly. He looked at her and she flushed a light shade of pink at being caught. She supposed she was staring for quite a while, but all that was returned, surprisingly was a smile. He looked at her with such sincerity that she gasped out a breath. He chuckled lightly at her response and she smiled widely at him as the hastily went back to their work.
Molly's phone went off and she instantly groaned. She knew who it was, the only person it could obviously be, and she most certainly did not want to leave Sherlock to be with him.
Be out back of Bart's in 10 minutes.
She frowned. She hated this. She did have a job. She ha to remember why she was doing this. She looked across the room once more to the man with dark curls and those blue green gray eyes. The stinging welled up behind her own and a burning willed itself in her throat. She loved this man more than she could describe and she wanted to throttle him for being so clueless. She laguhed lightly at the comedy of it.
"I've gotta dash, got plans I almost forgot about!" She tried smiling while grabbing her bag to head for the door.
"Attempts at another boyfriend?" Sherlock said slightly as he looked up at her apprehensively. She quirked her head to the side. What was that in his voice? She wondered.
"No? Just a friend from out of town has come in for a bit, little demanding to be honest!" she laughed hoping he'd let it go, "But haven't seen him in years." she finished with her hand on the door. She tried steadying the quick pace of her heart. She hated lying to people, but especially to the one she cared for most, Sherlock. Yet it was for his own good.
"Ah, explains last night then." He said absently looking back down at the body.
"Oh, right. Why were you there?" She chastised herself mentally for asking, she truly didn't have the time.
"A case." He just said not looking up.
"Oh, right... of course. Well, good night then! Remember to lock up!" Molly said as she was about to head out the door.
"Oh, and Molly?" Sherlock said quickly as he shot his head up from the body to once again meat her gaze.
"Yes?" she said to him shyly. She looked at him and he looked so innocent so full of life. She never wanted to see that go away. He was important to this world, the world could always get another Molly Hooper, it may not always get another Sherlock Holmes.
"You looked beautiful last night." he smiled to her his normal pale complexion turned a wonderful shade of pink. Molly's eyes widened at his confession she didn't quite know what to say honestly so she ran to the detective and whispered in his ear.
"Thanks!" hugged him and pecked him on the cheek then ran out the morgue,leaving a slightly stunned, yet smirking detective in her wake.
It was almost a month now, 'working' with Jim. She hated lying to those closet to her. She would only go to her flat on weekends so as no to be suspicious so that she could have some semblance of a social life. Mary, Molly's best friend of course had notice whatever her friend was doing was taking a toll. Now it was her hobby of writing. She said she would stay up all hours with new ideas and could barely sleep as it was anyways, so the writing would help her. If it wasn't an old friend visiting from out of town that would take her from work, it was a family emergency, if it wasn't that, it was and emergency in general.
She was running out of ideas, yet she knew, she knew today was the day. She had done so much for Moriarty, paraded around in so many sleek gowns to so many events, seen so many deaths, autopsied those deaths, and yet, Jim—Moriarty still refused to truly keep his end of the deal, if anything he only seemed to drive Sherlock more and more mad by teasing him with the idea of a game he wasn't involved in.
Today was different and she knew it. She came into work with a bouquet of her favorite flowers on her desk, starfire lilies. She opened the note that was inside.
Thank You, Love. Truly.
Meet me at the gym pool at 5 pm sharp. Do not think of leaving this note,
you will bring it with you, Understand, darling? Wear the dress in your
office closet, will you? You look gorgeous in blue, and you must always
look your best for the most important occasions, dear!
She shivered as she went to the closet and opened the door. There awaiting her was a sleek velvet midnight blue gown. It was gorgeous, yet something she would never see herself wear. She began to panic. She had no idea what to do. She knew what was to come and all she could do was face it. She had to face it. She would go through work normally bright and with a smile, as always, she would do the autopsy report for Elandra Romatski, the latest of one of Moriarty's slew of victims, the name left a bitter taste on her tongue as always. Her heart was beating at an unnaturally frantic pace. She had no clue of what to do, she willed herself to calm down for he had to give the outward appearance of being good ol' Mousy Molly, always sunny and bright, the one no one ever noticed, the one that never counted.
She wondered if anyone would care about her death.
She hoped so.
Sherlock would. She thought.
He'd need to find a new pathologist. She almost cried out at how pathetic her own mind sounded.
She went about her day as usual, grabbed her and Sherlock coffee when he came in as usual, stole glances of him working at the microscope across the room from him when she could, as usual. Yet, everything now seemed to bear more weight, have more purpose, more meaning. She couldn't rid the lump in her throat. When Lestrade finally came in to talk to John and Sherlock about the body, Molly rushed off into her office to shove the contents of what Jim—Moriarty left for her in her closet this morning for her to take into her large tote bag.
She looked at the flowers. How fitting. Flowers at a morgue. The original use was to cover up the smell of the dead after all she laughed bitterly at her own death. She was only 33 and never really imagined growing old in her lifetime, why would she? At a time like this she imagined she would dwell on the things that held such purpose, like why she hadn't married, or how she wished she would've lived a little more. Yet all she could do was think about who would take care of Toby, or who would cover late shifts for Mike, or who would get parts for Sherlock, or who would get his coffee.
Even now her mind wouldn't allow her to think of herself.
Old habits die hard I suppose. Molly laughed at her bitter joke of her own mortality and went back into the lab. She went to speak to the three gentleman who seemed to be growing louder and louder as she became closer to their presence.
"I have no idea what is going on with this Lestrade!" Sherlock fumed. Molly looked at him emphatically. She knew it ws driving him mad the way Moriarty was stringing him along.
"Well, whatever this lunatic is up to, he's killing innocent lives in the process, Sherlock! Does that mean anything to you?!" Greg said with his voice rising.
"Actually..." John added, "That's the odd thing, all of them either worked for him, or were affiliated within the network in some way, possibly traitors, or someone he didn't trust? Either way, each victim were far from innocent." he concluded. John smiled at Molly, as if trying to comfort her, yet she already knew, far more than any of them did.
Molly looked down at her watch and saw it was a little past four. She began to panic. She couldn't believe she had almost been so careless! She ran to her office and grabbed her things trying to hold back the beginnings of what may be an onslaught of emotions she may not be able to control.
"Sorry everyone! Gotta dash, dinner date tonight with a friend, can't be late!" she said to the group and they all stopped suddenly to take her small frame in. Molly looked at each one of them one last time and went to them individually.
"Bye, Greg." She said giving him a tight hug and pecking him lightly on the cheek. He was surprised by the action but didn't find it unpleasant. He said good bye as well and smiled.
"...John." Molly knew the two men would be a number o her, especially John. They had grown quite close, especially after the Christmas incident, and with him dating Mary, they had seen each other quite frequently. She held onto him longer than she planned and gripped him tightly. She looked up to him and her eyes were shining as she tried to smile. She pecked him quickly and turned swiftly to face Sherlock.
He looked as if he was expecting his turned which surprised her. She knew he was not one for affections, even of the simplest kind, yet if this were her last day on earth, she will be damned if she will not let him know truly of her affections no matter how small the gesture.
She gripped him tightly like a lifeline begging to not let go. She breathed in his scent hoping it would linger in her thoughts and get her through whatever would be waiting for her at her final destination, since she did not know. He was hesitant to return the gesture but did so quickly. She pulled back slightly and her eyes became glassy. She looked into his eyes for what would be the last time. Those swirling pools of blue green gray and smiled. His eyes widened slightly at her expression. He was not good with emotions, but he knew this was not Molly Hooper, this was not Mousy Molly.
"...Molly..." He began.
"Shh..." she said quietly as she placed her hand upon his forehead and brushed his dark curls from his face. His eyes followed her hands movements almost in awe. Molly didn't care that the two other men in the room were looking at her, and Sherlock didn't seemed to care either actually. He was quite stunned that she was being so bold finally. Finally.
"Look at those toxicology reports for me, would you?" Molly said to the detective breathlessly.
His mouth became quite dry. All he could manage was a nod of understanding.
She came in closer to him, "Thank you." she breathed, and pecked him lightly on the lips then dashed out of the morgue with the doors swinging behind her.
Not too long after Molly had gone, Sherlock had finally gained his composure and straightened stiffly in the stool to only have the eyes of John and Lestrade facing him rather suspiciously.
"What was that all about?" John asked trying to hide the smirk begging to creep up on his face.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, John." Sherlock tried to ay calmly as he walked oer fishing out the autopsy report that Molly had been talking about, thankfully she had left them right on the workstation for Sherlock to easily find.
"Did you delete her kissing you that quickly?!"
"No, of course not!" Sherlock defended.
"Ah, so you liked it." John said cheeky.
"I have work to do, John!" Sherlock said clearing his throat as his face slightly turned red. Lestrade just shook his head as he greeted Donovan and Anderson finally coming back from the cafeteria, they would surly be upset at missing that spectacle.
"Who on earth did the toxicology report?!" Sherlock said fuming as he went through the paperwork and then through the samples by the microscope left in the lab.
"Molly did, who else?" Lestrade said to Sherlock almost in disbelief. Sherlock shot a glance at the DI and John almost had to muffle a laugh.
"Are you possibly suggesting that Molly is incompetent? There is no way that she came up with these results on the toxicology report, Anderson sure, no doubt, but Molly, never. Especially when she had the samples right next to her and they were nothing of what she wrote down." Sherlock said as he pointed to the report and then to the samples.
"Well perhaps she got her reports mixed up somehow?" John tried to reason.
"Not possible." Sherlock said scoffing. "Molly works on one case at a time, to make sure that something like that would never happen. She is extremely careful. Why would you all be second guessing her work?" Sherlock looked to the group suspiciously.
"Well, to be honest Sherlock, we're quite surprised you're not questioning her more." Lestrade added.
Sherlock looked taken aback. "Do you all think so lowly of her?" he said not trying to hide the surprise which was laced with anger in his voice. "As I stated earlier, if it were Anderson, I could completely understand." He stopped to shoot the forensic a snide grin and then continued. "But this is Molly Hooper, Doctor Molly Hooper. She is one of the best, if not the best forensic pathologist in all of London, hell in all of England! You should all be ashamed." He spat out. The whole lot of them looked in every direction but at the detective.
"She wrote these for a reason, yet I have no idea why…" Sherlock mumbled.
John sauntered up behind him "A messaged perhaps?" John said.
"Decided to join the party?" Sherlock shot him a look. John scowled. Sherlock was surprised that John too had not trusted in Molly's skills. Sherlock's confidence, and Molly's constant support and dedication should be enough to make his decision unwavering.
"A message for what then?" Sherlock asked. "It's just elements written on paper, doesn't make any sense."
"Maybe not for what, but for whom." John added finally. Sherlock looked at him and saw a look he was unfamiliar with. He had a smugness to him. He didn't know what he was trying to get at but it bothered him to the very core that his best friend, blogger and flat mate had known something he hadn't. Then it hit him.
"You're doing the face!" Sherlock bellowed.
John's smirk grew even wider. "What face?" He asked simply enough.
"You know what face I'm talking about." Sherlock growled.
"Don't believe I do… sorry. Care to elaborate?" John was trying with great strength to hold back his laugh, but seemed to be failing miserably.
"The…'webothknowwhatsgoingonhereface'…" Sherlock grumbled.
"But we do… right?" John said in between chuckles.
"Oh just shut up John and tell me what you are getting at! You are probably wrong anyway!" Sherlock spat at him as he threw his hands up in the air in frustration. He should've known better that he would never get that man to admit that he never knew anything, or that he was wrong.
"A message to you, you git." John said surprised that someone so brilliant could miss something so simple.
Sherlock looked at him from the side of the microscope as he glanced at the note in front of him.
"What do you mean?" Sherlock inquired.
"Well, for one, are you sure it's from Molly?"
"Yes." Sherlock stated. Looking at the ending of the toxicology report at the bottom of the paper were what seemed to be useless elements written down at the bottom of the sheet. He would recognize her writing from anywhere. Her writing matched her personality, bubbly with a piece of comfort and familiarity. It flowed freely across the paper as if she had written the words effortlessly from her mind, like she had put no thought into them.
They were written in red. It didn't make sense. Even to Sherlock. He tried piecing it together. Maybe Molly knew where the next body would be found and these chemicals were a clue and she was afraid the murderer would find out if she wrote it in some other fashion?
She knew Sherlock was smart and would find out somehow.
"H2O, water, that's simple enough… So the next victim will be found near a body of water." Sherlock began." Sherlock mumbled as began fumbling in his mind palace.
John looked up at him and tried seeing what his flat mate could possibly see in his vast mind.
"You think she's leaving you a clue?" John added.
"Yes. Where is she anyway?" Sherlock added absently still going through his mind palace.
Molybdenum Atomic number 42. Is a solid metal. The human body contains about 0.07 mg of it per kg of weight. So, possibly deficient? No… it has to be something else. Put aside for later.
"I don't know to be honest. Said she got a text… was rather urgent and had to leave. Been doing a lot of that recently, no?" John said looking over the samples.
Rhenium: Atomic number 75. Chemical element. Silvery white transition metal. Nickel based superalloy. Most commonly used in combustion chambers, turbine blades, and exhaust nozzles of jet engines. So… possibly a hangar near a body of water… getting closer.
"I suppose so…" Sherlock said absently. "Wait. What? What do you mean been doing it recently? She's been gone recently?" Sherlock looked at John, his interest thoroughly piqued.
"Well… you haven't noticed? Mary mostly told me. They would be out on the town, or having a girls night and she would just say she'd have to leave." John shrugged his shoulders at the explanation.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at this new information. He supposed he noticed, of course he noticed. He remembered seeing her that one night at the ballroom. Thinking of that now after what happened earlier only made him think of her soft pink lips upon his. He had a case to worry about and her he was thinking about Molly Hooper's lips!
He knew she was gone a lot just never allowed himself to let it sink in. They would work late night, things Molly would normally look forward to, so much so she would even order take out for the both of them. Yet, since Moriarty had been throwing him for a loop for so long, Sherlock had been focused on nothing else. Yet he still found himself coming to the lab to do experiments. Why was that? He didn't need to. He didn't really have any cases, just Moriarty, and that didn't need any lab work really. He set it aside and decided it was because he was bored and it was a good was away of filling his spare time. Yet he noticed when he heard his petite pathologist scurry out of the room, it would not take him much longer to follow suit. He pushed aside why he would decide to leave after she did. He knew he was allowed to stay when she wasn't there. So why didn't he? He looked back at the names on the paper again, shaking his mind of the thoughts of Molly. He'll come back to her later.
Argon. Argon?! Sherlock stopped his thoughts for a moment and scoffed at the woman's words she seemed to make less and less sense as he further went down the list. Yet John was most likely right, and would most likely throttle him if he didn't at least give it a shot at trying to deduce what Molly was trying to put in front of him.
Argon. Atomic number 18. It is a colorless odorless gas. The third most common gas found in our atmosphere. Commonly used in incandescent and florescent lighting. So the possibility of this being in an airport hangar seems to be more likely. Sherlock began smirking.
John looked at Sherlock perplexed. "Found something good in those words I hope?" John looked at him and Sherlock smiled.
"I think so…" His face faltered slightly. "but it's a little far-fetched." Sherlock finished looking back down at the paper.
"Mind if I take a look?" John inquired. Sherlock looked at him sideways and ushered a hand to allow him access to the report and to the note in front of him.
John did a once over and jotted down the note on a pad and moved quickly out of Sherlock's way. He looked at the note Molly left eyes wide at the simplicity of what she was hinting at. He almost looked at Sherlock agape for not knowing what Molly was trying to show him, yet… Sherlock did always seem to like things to have more meaning, that's for sure.
"Now then… what else…" Sherlock seemed to mumble as he shifted back into his mind palace.
Tellurium. Atomic number 52. A chemical element, brittle, mildly toxic. Silver-white metalloid which looks similar to tin, chemically related to selenium and sulfur. Used most commonly in steel and copper products. Airport looking more and more promising. Sherlock smirked at himself.
"Got anything interesting you'd like to share their mate?" John said to the detective smirking.
"Something. Don't want to jump to conclusions." Sherlock said smugly. "You?" Sherlock seemed to ask absently while figuring out the last item in his mind.
Don't need to pay too much attention to John right now. Astatine. Atomic number 85. A radioactive chemical element. Oh, this is getting saucy.
"Yes, I do actually. Figured it out I think really." John said with an air of superiority in his voice.
"That's nice John." Sherlock said not really knowing what he was replying to but figured what he said was safe.
…Only occurs on earth. Is the result of when other heavier chemicals break down after radioactive deterioration… well that doesn't make any—
"Wait… what did you say?" Sherlock looked directly at his blogger who seemed to be waiting for this, smirk already placed on his face.
"I said, I think I already solved it. How about that." John said to his flat mate letting the last word pop on the roof of his mouth.
"How on earth did you solve it, when I haven't even solved it, John?! No offense, but I am quite smarter than you." Sherlock smirked.
"You are quite right. But sometimes Sherlock, you Observe, but do not see." John said throwing his words back at him, but switched them to fit his situation. Sherlock scoffed.
"What on earth do you mean?" Sherlock became impatient at his friend.
"Molly is a simple woman, smart yes, but is simple. She is sweet, talented smart, and straight to the point. Do you think that if she left you any clue, at all… whatsoever, she would bury it so deep that you would have to decipher it to no end?" John said looking at Sherlock with his brow quirked.
John was right. Molly was smart. Possibly the smartest woman he knew. She could slice up cadavers better than any pathologist in all of London. She could know what Sherlock wanted done for a body before the man sauntered in and demanded it. He liked that sometimes, but he did miss being able to bark orders.
But John was right; she was simple and straight to the point. It was rare that Molly would make things complicated, because it would only show to confuse her. Molly had a one track mind and she liked it that way. So when he looked at John and looked at the pad, it hit him like a tidal wave.
"Oh…Oh!" Sherlock said fumbling around with a piece of paper next to him on the workstation. He scribbled sown each element and stopped almost instantly.
H2O – Water
Mo – Re – Ar – Te – At – H2O
Moriatry At Water (Pool)
Sherlock took a sharp intake of breath. Why had he not seen this? How had he missed the signs? The ballroom that night, she wasn't with a friend—his eyes widened at the thought. They both looked at each other and grabbed their coats heading for the doors of the morgue.
"Phone Lestrade, have him send backup, but just him and possibly… three others. Tell them not to come for about thirty minutes." Sherlock said as he buttoned up his coat and threaded his scarf on his neck. John on nodded his head in response.
"So… Molly leaves me a list of chemical elements as a note for me to find her… interesting." Sherlock smirked as him and John burst through the doors and up the stairwell.
"You two." John said shaking his head. Following Sherlock close behind.
"Apparently brainy is the new sexy." Sherlock looked back at John to see his reaction. He was rewarded with an open mouthed expression of shock, which he then responded with a hearty chuckle.
"We're coming, Molly." Sherlock breathed as they reached the doors to leave Bart's and catch a taxi.
It all made sense now. Why Moriarty had left Sherlock alone. He had left him alone because he was busy with an entirely new toy. Molly. Sherlock suddenly had an incredible feeling of protectiveness wash over him, along with guilt, then anger.
The information was coming to him at light speed it was almost too much for him to register, but he would suffer the consequences of his ignorance.
"Why do you think he has Molly?" John asked utterly oblivious it seemed. Sherlock looked to him skeptically mouth almost agape at asking a question with what seemed to have such an obvious answer. Well, apparently not.
"…I don't know." Sherlock said short. "But it explains why he hasn't bothered with us." He said looking out the window.
"Jealous?" John said with the slightest smirk on his lips. Sherlock turned quickly to his companion as anger flickered in his eyes. John looked startled and Sherlock snapped back at him.
"How on earth could you think that? He has Molly John, Molly." Sherlock said her name twice hoping that it may register the importance into the soldier's mind. "Do you honestly think that him dating her for a short time will prevent him from killing her?!" He said voice rising. John's eyes widened. He almost felt foolish for not thinking something like that could possibly happen to their friend. "If anything, it would make her chances of dying far more likely!" He yelled. He didn't care who heard. He was foolish, he had been foolish and was paying attention to everything expect for the one thing he never did, Molly. Now look where that had gotten him.
They pulled up outside the gym, How fitting it seemed. Sherlock waltzed in first to be graced with the presence of his pathologist clad in a sleek form fitting navy blue evening gown. Her hair was thrown up messily and her make-up was smeared. Her mascara ran down her cheeks in black trails and her lips were stained a deep red and swollen So, he forced himself on her. He thought. His eyes softened as she looked at the detective. She was crying, but she smiled weakly and breathed "Sherlock!" weakly into the air her body wracking with fear. He wanted to go to her, but he knew how Moriarty played, and waited for him to show his face before taking another step.
She looked quite beautiful. Minus the look of sheer terror upon her face. The color and shape of the dress complimented her perfectly. It plunged down her chest and stopped at her breast bone giving ample view of the cleavage she did possess. The dress also had a slit on her left thigh that stopped right at the hip that showed off her shapely legs. Sherlock should not be thinking about her in such a way, especially when she is in such a condition, and especially at a time like this.
This is what you get for not acting on your urges when given the opportunity. His mind teased. He forced his urges into submission and pushed them aside for later; he was a gentleman and respected her.
"Well, Helloo…" Moriarty popped out of the back door and waltzed in the pool area wearing a dark gray suit with a white dress shirt and black tie. His hair was sleeked back into his usual style as he sauntered forward and took his place standing next to Molly which he then snaked his arm around her waist possessively.
Sherlock's eyes narrowed at the arm upon Molly's thin waist. How dare he touch her so intimately when he never even had the chance?!
What?! He questioned.
He looked up at the woman and saw her looking directly at him. Her brown eyes looked larger somehow. They were glassy from the constant tears that seemed to flow from them. She cried, yet she remained strong. He was so proud of her. Yet so angry with himself. How could he allow this to slip him by?
"The pool. How… sentimental." Sherlock dripped from his mouth as he lazily looked over to Moriarty.
"I felt we had a special bond." Moriarty drawled as he tilted his head smiling to the detective and John.
"Molly, Are you all right?" Sherlock asked hesitantly. He looked her over and she hiccuped in surprise of the question. She nodded.
"Oh, go on, you can answer my pet." Moriarty said to her popping the last syllable of the word right by her ear, as if he were saying something intimate. He graced her jaw lightly with his index finger and she winced.
"I—I'm fine, Sherlock. You should go, please." Molly pleaded; her eyes began to water once more as she looked into the eyes of her detective. She knew what was coming for her, and she didn't want Sherlock of all the people in her life here to see it.
Sherlock's eyes widened slightly at her response. She wanted him to leave? Then why had she given him a clue that she was here? It didn't make sense. He looked at her and she looked so weak. She looked paler than usual, which was a stretch, she had lost at least 4 pounds and she had bags under those brown eyes of hers.
"What have you done to Molly?" Sherlock asked Moriarty his tone serious.
"Only what she asked of course. She just hated seeing you in the game. She was afraid…for you, Sherlock. Can you believe that?" He chuckled lightly. Molly looked to Moriarty with surprise. What did she expect? Even in her last moments of life she would be viewed as a fool, a fool for loving a man who barely noticed her existence. Sherlock and John both looked at the man in question in shock, then to Molly. Sherlock stepped forward slowly approaching her.
"Is that true?" He said softly. He looked to her between closed lashes almost ashamed to believe that she would do something so self-sacrificing for someone like him. A man who had done nothing but manipulate and ridicule her about the most frivolous things when given the chance. She was his emotional punching bag. He could vent to her, and all she would do was smile. She would hide her pain well, but he knew better. He knew the pain he had inflicted on her, and regretted it each time. Even more so now. Why did she care so much?
How could she care so much?
"Yes…" she managed to scratch out in an uneven breath. He inhaled deeply at her response. Only one other person had done something so honorable and self-sacrificing for him, and that man was John. He looked to the man at his side, and he saw the soldier staring at the woman in front of them in awe. Sherlock was sure he had the same expression upon his face.
John was his best friend, it made sense, and it was a spur of the moment situation what he had done. Yet, Molly thought this out, purposely put herself in the line of fire to protect him. Why?
Why?! His mind cried. He knew why. Of course he knew why. He always knew why, which is what made this situation all the more difficult. She did it for sentiment the thing she held most dear.
"But you see Sherlock, she's boring!" Moriarty screamed into her ear which caused Molly to flinch.
"So, I have no use for her anymore. So I believe our game shall continue. It was fun while it lasted! Not!" He cackled. Sherlock looked on at the situation in front of him.
"You see, you are on the side of the angels, Sherlock… but—"
"She is one." He simply stated. Molly looked up at him eyes wide at his response. John almost mirroring her features.
"So, clever you are… so, so clever." Moriarty said finally letting go of Molly. Sherlock let out a breath he hadn't known he held in. Moriarty looked at him and quirked a brow. He smirked and laughed lightly walking closer to the detective looking up further with each small step.
"Oh, oh no!" Moriarty said in mock fear, "Has Sherlock Holmes… grown a—grown a heart?!" He said as he covered his mouth in shock then laughed as he turned on his heel. Sherlock kept serious, his lips forming a straight line.
John looked at Sherlock then back to Molly who fell to the floor in a crumple.
"Molly!" John said as he began to dash forward.
"Don't you dare!" Moriarty snarled. His face twisted into a wicked grimace and his body was positioned as if he were about to lunge out at the soldier. John stopped steadily in his tracks and looked at the maniacal man between him and the detective.
"She needs help, let me help her." John said sadly sparing a glance at the small woman upon the floor.
"I doubt she wants that from you." He allowed to drip from his mouth as he straightened his posture once more and turned to face the dark curls of the tall brooding detective.
Moriarty smiled, it seemed to look almost genuine, as if greeting an friend. He came close and placed a hand on the tall man's shoulder.
"Go to her, won't you? Old friend." He said deeply as his eyes began to darken. Sherlock's jaw clenched at having to play such an infuriating game with such a maniacal tyrannical man. He took his gaze off of him and landed them to the woman in question. The woman always in question in his mind. He brushed past Moriarty lightly, but swiftly not missing the slight smirk on the vile man's face. He could feel his chest tighten and throat burn from the sight in front of him, the closer he came to her, his pathologist, the worse she looked. She tried to hide her features from him, covering her face with her hands, pulling the dress over her legs. Her curls spilled over her shoulders and it caused an ache in his chest so powerful a sound emitted from his mouth from the intensity of it. So this was caring… he thought. No wonder I had stayed away for so long.
He willed himself to kneel before her. She whimpered quietly and he saw her shaking from the cold or fear he couldn't tell. He could deduce people, not emotions, now that, that was Molly's area.
"Molly." He breathed softly, it was barely a whisper. He willed her to look up at him with his deep velvitone voice. She stopped whimpering momentarily and placed one of her hands on the cement for support. She used the other to brush the curls from her face and finally she looked up into his eyes, and she smiled.
"Hello, Sherlock." She said softly. He took in a breath at what laid before him. She was so beautifully broken if that could possibly make sense. He had never seen a person on earth make looking sad so appealing. He realized that wasn't it when he looked into her eyes though. He looked into her bright brown orbs and smiled.
Hope. She believed in him. Of course she did. She always believed in him. He never knew why, but he knew she would never give up on him, even when everyone else would. He moved closer to her, slowly but surely and placed a calloused hand on her cheek, she pressed into it instinctively. He could not explain the feeling that coursed through him at that simple endearment, because that's simply what it was. It was a simple act of caring, and he enjoyed it and wanted more from the small woman.
"Are you all right? Are you hurt?" he whispered to her almost cradling her face now in his hands. She looked up at him, her mouth slightly parted at his concern.
"I'll manage." She tried to choke out a laugh.
"You don't need to be strong for me anymore, Molly." He said to her firmly. Tears began welling up in her eyes. She hated that he had to find out about her undermining him and taking Moriarty off of him when she knew in her mind logically that it made no sense to do. He was far more capable and could probably handle him much more than Molly ever could, but her heart refused to listen. She loved this man. His blue green gray eyes looked at her laced with concern and all she could do was throw herself into his embrace. He was prepared this time and squeezed her just as tenderly. He found her to be warm and incredibly inviting. Even now, her normal scent was on her. The cleanness she had about her, the floral scent that always seemed to carry with her. He inhaled her hair lightly and pulled her in closer.
"I'm so sorry for lying to you and for being so foolish thinking I could be—"
"Shh now, it's all right. Thank you." He whispered. He pulled her up to look into his eyes so that she could see the sincerity in them. She gasped at the look upon his face and he smiled lightly.
"I am quite impressed at the note you left me, Doctor Hooper. Frankly, I wouldn't have found you any other way, thanks to my own ignorance. For that, I apologize." He said finally, looking away only for a moment as she pulled his chin back to her.
"You would've found me." He looked at her eyebrows raised. "Somehow I knew you would, alive or dead." She said those words so plainly. Alive or dead? The thought struck him to the core. How had she spoken so casually of her own death?
"I knew what this eventually meant for me." she added in and Sherlock looked at her in shock for knowing his thoughts.
"It was him, and I would do anything for you, Sherlock. Always." Molly said finally once again coming closer into his embrace.
"Well, isn't this adorable!" Moriarty yelled an echo throughout the pool. "But I'm afraid I can't let this continue. It's wonderful that you're both here, truly! I love it, makes it almost too perfect, really." Moriarty said in a sing-song voice as he pulled out his gun.
"Now, Mr. Holmes... I suggest you stand away from Moll Doll over there, yes?" Moriarty said playfully with a wicked smile on his face.
He looked down to Molly who nodded her head swiftly. She was prepared. Prepared to do what needed to be done, whatever it may be. If that were to be dying for the man she loved so that he could live another day so that men like Moriarty could no longer exist, than she would know her death would not be in vain. He bent down to her quickly and pulled her into a tight embrace.
"I won't let anything happen to you, Molly Hooper." He said and kissed her ear lightly before letting go as he walked away never taking his eyes off of her. Her eyes began to water.
Jim—Moriarty walked up to her swiftly and pulled her to him and placed the gun gracefully at her neck. She heard him whistle playfully as he called for his second in command—Seb, he called him, short for Sebastian she could only assume. As soon as he came out he ordered him to do his bidding.
"Seb dear, would you mind keeping an eye on blondie over there? I know he's not your type, but he's certainly feisty!" John gave him a nasty look. When Moriarty deemed Molly no threat, he pulled the gun to Sherlock's direction.
John and Sebastian had a gun pointed at one another and Moriarty had one pointed at Sherlock. Molly was trapped within Moriaty's embrace with nothing but her hair and body for protection, what could she honestly do?
What could I do? She thought. She looked on to Sherlock who stood not twenty feet before her. His eyes were trained not on Moriarty, as they should've been, but on her. He was smiling. She gasped.
She had realized just from that look. That one look. That he was willing to do the same.
He would be willing to give his life for her, just as she was so willing to give hers for him. She was trying to plead with her eyes but she could see, he was having none of it. He stood there smug as ever looking at her, happy. He was happy with the decision.
I have to do something. She thought. Either way, in her mind, if it didn't work, she now knew every one was willing to die here, so no loss there, but if it worked, well then, no one would die—well no one she would want to die would die.
She shifted her eyes slightly to Moriarty without moving her head, she tested how much wiggle room she might have had and went for it. After all, she was raised with three brothers, so she knew a thing or two about fighting. She stomped on his foot with her heel, which then got her out of his grasp, then kneed him in the groin, then pinned him underneath her and took the gun from his hand only to quickly slide it in Sherlock's direction. She put her hands around the man's throat and tightened until the detective showed up at her side and knew it would be safe to let go. She quickly stood up and went behind the detective sparing a glace a John. She instantly felt guilty for not thinking of the man, but her worries were alleviated when she saw Sebastian lying on the ground.
"I seemed to have underestimated you, Molly dear." Moriarty managed to choke out. Molly looked down at him prepping herself for a snarky answer when Sherlock answered instead.
" A lot of people have seemed to be doing that lately." he looked at her briefly smiling, then back to the man on the floor. "I'll make sure that never happens again." he finished. Molly smiled.
Not long after did Lestrade show up with Donovan and a few others for back up. They came and hand cuffed Moriarty, along with Sebastian and took them down to the yard for questioning.
"You won't get anything out of them." Sherlock added.
"No need, brother. We have all the evidence we need." Mycroft came into presence from what it seemed out of thin air. They all looked at him almost by surprise, Sherlock almost scoffed at his timely entrance, but Molly seemed to be relieved.
"Have all the evidence I need." he stated. "Even if, I doubt there will be any legality involved with this man brother." Mycroft said almost too darkly.
Molly looked to the older Holmes who had brought his glance upon her and gave her a smile.
"I believe I owe you my thanks... Molly." He said softly as he walked closer to her and kissed her hand lightly. Everyone looked at him in shock, but no one more than Molly. "Nothing I could provide to you could possibly show my gratitude, but anything you may want or need ever and it will be yours." he said simply. "Brother." he nodded and walked off briskly with Anthea following him in the darkness.
Molly stood outside with a shock blanket around her for warmth, all the shock was gone. At this point she was frankly numb and could use some sleep, or relaxation. What she did not expect was a pair of large hands to grace her small shoulders lightly and turn her around to look into the beautiful eyes of blue green gray. They same eyes she thought she'd never see again.
"Hello." He said.
"Hello." she laughed.
"I'd like you to stay at Baker street tonight. I think it'd be safest for you." he said softly to her pulling the petite woman closer consciously or unconsciously he was not sure.
"I have no clothes." Molly pouted.
"We can get you some in the morning. I have clothes you can wear at my flat for the evening." he said firmly. He would not back down. Who was she to decline?
"Oh all right." she laughed out. He was incredibly happy she could be so light. He wanted her to be like this. He wanted this Molly he didn't want her broken, and he was so glad that she had not allowed a man like Moriarty to break her. It made him proud to know, and care for a woman such as her.
Care? Yes. He cared. He cared for Molly Hooper. He knew he cared for her when he decided that he could give his life for her just as she could give he life for him. No. he knew before then. He knew when he sabotaged all of her dates and refused to work with no one but her, because he wanted to be with her and no one else. He could admit it now. He couldn't before, but almost losing her for good could change a man's mind rather quickly it seemed.
Once back at Baker street John had left to spend the night with Mary. He hadn't seen her for a while because of Moriarty, so he supposed it made sense. He brought Molly to his room and allowed her to sleep there, he said she could wear whatever she liked, she simply nodded, grabbed a few things and headed off to the shower.
He had hoped she wouldn't immediately go to sleep. He would make some tea so they could talk about... whatever this is. He wasn't sure that this was even a thing. He would hope it would eventually become a thing, but he wasn't certain. He heard the shower stop, and he estimated it would take her approximately six minutes before she came out to the kitchen to either say good night or fetch a beverage, yet to his surprise, it was only three.
He really should've stopped at her flat for her clothes.
He's really happy he didn't stop at her flat for her clothes.
She walked out of his bedroom in only his plum button up shirt. The color made her skin look so tan and her hair spilled in tendrils around her shoulders. The first two buttons were undone, either on purpose or they were just forgotten, it was quite warm. The shirt was long enough to cover her knickers, but just one bend and he could see whatever lacy ensemble she graced underneath.
Her thighs were shapely and supple and smooth in the kitchen light. He knew she chose that shirt for a reason. Her mind and heart went directly to that shirt purposefully. It was her favorite. She always loved that shirt on him, and now he loved it on her. How fitting. It wasn't just her favorite shirt now, it was their favorite shirt.
"Tea?" He choked out. As he set it on the table gingerly trying not to stare any more obviously than he already had.
"Love some." She noticed. He chastised himself as he observed the crimson color of her cheeks, yet then a wicked grin played on his features.
I wonder how far that blush went?
"Allow me." He said and he motioned the petite woman to sit down as he made her tea. Once finished, he walked behind her and wrapped his arm around her to place the tea cup lightly in front of her not forgetting to observe if she was adorning a bra or not.
No bra then. Such a tease, Doctor Hooper. He smirked.
"Here you are." he purred into her ear.
"Oh!" she let out of her mouth breathy from the close proximity. She was not used to the detective being so... intimate with her, it was daunting to say the least.
"Th—thank you." she managed in between breaths.
"Of course Doctor Hooper. Wonderful choice of attire you have on. My purple shirt..." her eyes widened. She didn't even notice. Her mind berated herself. Of course she noticed. She rummaged the damn drawer for the thing.
"Oh? I hope you don't mind... I could go change if you do..." Molly said nervously as she felt the detective's breath upon her ear and neck. Her pulse began to quicken from his actions and her head began to slightly tilt to the right to allow him further access, she could feel him smirk upon her skin at this.
"Oh no... I believe it looks rather, tantalizing on you Doctor..." he said as he lightly nibbled her neck which caused her to moan slightly. She turned to him eyes wide. Both of their faces mirroring the same expressions.
"What are you doing to me, Sherlock Holmes?" Molly asked him accusingly.
"Do you not like it? Do you want me to stop?" he said innocently. He surly wished she didn't want that, but he would have to respect her decisions either way.
"No, it's just. Please tell me you are not doing this because of everything? That it is not some sort of weird way of you saying thank you?" Molly looked at him eyes pleading wanting to know the truth. Sherlock let out a sigh.
He should've known it would be like this. Nothing was ever easy for him and woo'ing Molly Hooper would be no different, especially the history he had with her. He looked at her and thought aboutw hat he could truly say to her that would convey his feelings and show that what he intended to do, and would intended to continue to do was sincere.
"Molly... when I saw you lying on the ground," Molly looked away almost painfully. "I had never felt anything more horrible settle in my chest before in the entirety of my life." he stated simply. She looked up at him with her solid brown orbs begging him to continue. "You wept, and I wept inside for you, because you wept for me. A man, who had done nothing but treat you horribly, and you have shown me nothing but love." He said voice cracking. He looked away trying to form what was in his mind, and in his heart? He supposed that's what it was and give it all to this one woman, the one woman who deserved it.
"I suppose I always knew the level of caring I held for you Molly. I just refused to let it show. I clouded it with anger and ignorance so as to protect myself, as well as you, I just never knew you would... you would-" he tried saying it, but what could he say? He never calculated that the woman who loved him would risk her life for him? Of course he hadn't, because the concept was so alien to him, just like the concept of someone loving him was alien to him.
She smiled at him and put her hand upon his face lightly. "I love you Sherlock Holmes. I would do anything and everything in this world to have you see another day." She said tears brimming her eyes.
"But then you would be gone." his voice so filled with emotion Molly had no idea how to react.
"Yes, but the world could live without Molly Hooper, the world can't live without Sherlock Holmes."
"I can't live without Molly Hooper." He said in a whisper. She gasped at his confession. His eyes looked so raw from the emotion they held, she pulled him close and kissed him fiercely. He gasped in surprise but adjusted quickly to the contact.
He lifted her light frame easily from the chair and carried her swiftly to his bedroom placing her sweetly on the bed.
He pulled away from the kiss to look down at her smiling face.
"I care for you Molly, I may never-"
"Shh. I don't care what you may, or may never tell me, Sherlock. Show me how you feel." she said to him and he complied.
He lightly grabbed the buttons of his shirt that he was so used to taking off of himself while Molly worked on the shirt he had worn this evening, it was a powder blue. They seemed to unbutton the same ones synchronously, Sherlock pulling the familiar fabric from the petite woman and Molly untucking the shirt from Sherlock's trousers. Molly began working on his belt buckle but Sherlock stopped her and deftly undid them in a flash and watched his trouser drop almost as quick.
He began kissing Molly's neck lightly, then her collar bone nibbling and sucking along the way making sure to elicit moans from the woman. She lightly grazed her nails down his back which caused a low grumble from his throat hitch caused her to chuckle the sound was so un-Sherlockian.
He moved to her breasts and kissed them accordingly making sure to pay them wonderful attention they were soft and supple and seemed to fit perfectly in his hands. He kneaded them as Molly arched herself against him at his motions. He rolled her nipples in between his thumb and forefinger one at a time alternating between left and right. When not doing that he would be kneading the other, which only made her moan louder and breathier for him, he smirked against her neck.
She plunged her hands into his thick curls at the nape of his neck and pulled lightly which she was rewarded with a satisfied moan of approval which only encouraged her to pull a little harder. Happily for her, the detective bit her neck lightly and grinded himself against her, which only caused her to do the same. She pulled him him up so that the were eye level to one another, each one breathless from each other ministrations and smiled wickedly.
"Honestly I do not know how much longer I can tease you dear Molly." Sherlock breathed out against her lips kissing them hard and quick. She pulled back dazed.
"I honestly don't know how long I can allow you to keep teasing me as well, dear Sherlock." She purred. He looked a her and quirked a brow. He honestly did not expect her to respond in such a way, yet apparently Molly was going to surprise him a lot tonight it seemed. She turned him on his back quickly and shimmied her knickers off and tossed them behind her, not without missing a hearty chuckle from the man beneath her.
"For years I have wanted this, Sherlock.. so allow me to enjoy it, yes? So... enjoy." She said quietly as she lightly kissed him on the lips, then his jaw, down to his neck, along his collar bone and on to his chest.
"You truly are marvelous, do you know that?" She said in between kisses. He chuckled. "Many nights I thought of you, you know." She purred. She could feel his erection grow even harder at her confession. "Is that so?" He managed to get out as she sucked lightly on one of his nipples. "Uh huh." she said slowly licking her tongue around his left nipple. His mouth became dry.
"What did you think about?" He asked suddenly surprised at himself. Was he really? No he really wasn't surprised at himself. "Oh, lots of things. I've had years of material." She said looking at him from his abdomen now,she nibbled and licked lightly. "Although, my favorite is you coming into the morgue to be honest. Get's me through the boring days." she admitted. Kissing further down the expanse of his chest. "You think about me sexually while you're working?" he asked surprised. "Well, yes! I think about you all the time." she said. The thought drove him mad that she thought of him at such inappropriate times, well then, Miss Mousy Molly Hooper wasn't Mousy at all, hmm? "Care to share?" he said in his usual baritone voice. He could almost feel her shiver against him and it caused him to smile. He loved that he had this effect on her. "You would walk into the morgue, Belstaff bellowing in the wind making all sorts of outlandish demands and I would sit there and just look at you with my usual look of longing and you would pin me against the wall and take me on one of the workstations." she said huskily.
"Perhaps we'll try that sometim—ah!" He let out a loud moan. How had he not noticed? She was quite the distraction that's for sure. She giggled at his reaction which only made him moan more. The feeling of her mouth around his erection was something other-worldy to the detective. Why had he not done this again? He couldn't help himself, he grabbed a fist full of her now dry hair and pulled lightly which caused Molly to moan around him. He let a breath escape his lips from the sensation. She traced her tongue up and down his length and suck firmly, but gently. She did enjoy this, she especially enjoyed that he truly enjoyed this. She snaked her hand around his member lightly and crawled up to face him.
"Now say, what shall we do detective?" she purred to him, her look nothing but of pure seduction. She looked upon his face and saw nothing but desire and it enthralled her. She never imagined seeing this man, Sherlock Holmes look this way for her and only her.
"I could think of a few things." he said deeply his voice laced with desire. His voice alone caused her to moan with pleasure. He pushed her onto her back and and laid himself on top of her.
"I presume we don't have to go over the-"
"Yes Sherlock, I'm on the pill. Have at it good sir." she chuckled. She swore his eyes lit up like a school boy. He pulled her close and whispered in her ear, "Will do, ma'am." and nibbled on her ear lightly, which then caused her to grind into him.
He playfully rubbed himself against her clitoris until she was nothing short of a mess of moans and squeals for the man, he smiled, a smile of victory, smugly adorning his face as he pulled her close and kissed her neck lightly and thrusted into her in one swift motion. He stopped briefly so that they may get used to one another, but Molly's leg's begged him to move once more. Who was he to argue?
He began a steady pace until they found a rhythm with one another meeting each other thrust for thrust. Sherlock put all the emotions for this one woman that he could not possibly convey into words into every movement he made with every caress, every stroke, every nibble, bite and kiss. He wanted her to know just how much she had truly come to mean to him. He did exactly what she told him to do, to show her. And show her he did.
As they reached closer to their ends their movements became more frantic and faster paced for one another. they could not get enough. Sherlock began to groan and pant loudly against Molly's ear which only made her shudder against him and let out her throw s of pleasure for the man above her. She looked into his eyes and only saw what she would always hoped she could possibly see in those man's eyes. Love. Love for her, Molly Hooper, and only her. the thought made her heart flutter and her eyes sting with tears of joy. she refused to cry, it would only make the situation awkward. he pulled her close and placed kisses on her lips and cheeks, neck, jaw and ears. she let out a content sigh at how careful her was with her, so loving.
She pulled him closer as they were finally reaching the end together, she could feel her walls closing in and she could feel him pulsating inside of her which only urged her on further. their moans sounds of encourage meant to keep each other going even thought their bodies could no longer from shear exhaustion from the events of the day. they held each other tightly and kissed one another passionately and moaned together in sync as they together climaxed for the first time, as one. Sherlock pecked tiny kisses on her lips and felt a smile creep n her face from the gesture, but he didn't care, she pulled him close and laid upon his chest. she listened to the steady beat of his heart constant and unwavering. Always there.
Molly Hooper was not an exceptional woman. She could not deduce who you were by what tie you were wearing, or what you had for breakfast. She didn't have extensive military training or could wield a gun. She didn't have nerves of steel. She couldn't topple entire governments by a single photograph or a clever smile. She couldn't have any man by walking in a pair of three inch heels or carrying a riding crop by her side, she just didn't have what it took to be that kind of woman.
Molly Hooper was more than that. She was the most exceptional woman. She didn't need military training, or skills on how to wield a gun. She didn't need to topple governments with a photograph or wear three inch heels for a man's attention. After all, she had the most brilliant man in all the world in bed with her, so what made her so exceptional then?
She had what no other woman in that one lonely, solitary, naïve man's life could possibly every give him. Love. She have him love and lots of it. So much love that it was so blinding to the detective that all he could do was stop an stare, quite literally. She loved with so much that she was willing to leave this world just so he could live another day, and that thought made a very stubborn lonely man realize just how much lonelier the world could get without the brown eyes of his pathologist gracing them.
They laid there all night in one another's arms afraid of departing and finding out it may not be true. They held on to one another with great strength and affection.
Sherlock be dammed.
The world could not live without Molly Hooper.
Oh my goodness was THAT LONG! Haha I hope you all love it, truly! I worked on it long and hard, but tell me how you feel, HONEST! Haha I look forward to your reviews! :D