One-shot from prompt on Tumblr (enamoredwithsherlolly). Feel free to submit a prompt anytime!

"Molly, Molly, Molly…"

Molly groaned as her eyes blinked open, her head throbbing like mad. She could vaguely remember the chloroform and kicking and screaming before blacking out. She was sitting in a chair. However, she wasn't bound. How strange.

"Yoohoo, Molly dear…" the voice continued.

She shook her head, still dizzy, and looked toward the source of the voice, hoping it wasn't him, though she would recognize that lilting Irish voice anywhere.

"Moriarty," she spat, her eyes narrowing. "What do you want?"

"Don't be like that, dear. You loved me so much before, watching Glee with me, cuddled up on your sofa. Of course, you loved Sherlock more, but. Well." He grinned. "That's to be expected, wasn't it? You do have a type."

He walked up to her, pulling her chin toward him, his lips just a fraction of an inch away from hers.

"Don't you, Molly Hooper? You're attracted to sociopaths. Self proclaimed high-functioning ones." His voice turned soft, and his lips turned down in a frown. "I just wanted someone to play with."

In that moment, she could almost imagine him as a child, much like Sherlock, a poor child who just wanted a friend. Her face softened.

"Will you be my friend, Molly Hooper?"

"I…" She nearly forgot herself. Snap out of it!

"You've murdered people. Perfectly innocent people," she spat.

"No." His eyes glinted. "They WEREN'T INNOCENT!" He shouted in her face, his face contorted with anger. "THEY KILLED MY PARENTS."

She looked at him in disbelief. What?

"I just WANTED A FRIEND." He looked at her, his eyes full of agony, as he fell to the floor, his body writhing in what seemed to be remembrance of past agony. She no longer saw Moriarty.

She saw Jim.

She did the unthinkable. She got out of the chair, kneeling down next to him. As he breathed hard, curled up on the floor, her hand reached toward his head. Her fingers buried themselves in his hair as she pulled his head onto her lap.

"Shhh…it's okay now. They can't hurt you. I know you just want a friend. I'll play with you, okay?" She cooed at him, petting his hair soothingly. "It's okay," she repeated over and over again, until she could feel his breathing slow down.

Even with the knowledge that he was a serial murderer, she couldn't bring herself to hate him. It was his vulnerability in moments like these that brought out her sympathy.

He slowly turned to face her, propping himself up on one hand, his warm, brown eyes drinking her in.

"You will? You'll be my friend? Promise?"

"Promise," she smiled at him. "Just don't kill anymore people, okay?"

"Okay," he promised her, leaning closer.

Snapping out of the dream, Molly fell backwards, scrambling to her feet.

"Just…we can be friends, okay? But I love Sherlock. So promise you won't hurt him."

He stared at her, his eyes unfathomable, until she began to fidget under his gaze.

"Yeah, okay." He agreed. "But you're MINE."

"Sorry to break up the party, Moriarty. But unfortunately, she's my pathologist." A voice spoke up from the door, the deep baritone crisp and unyielding.

Jim got up from the floor, brushing the dust off his suit, before turning to face the new arrival.

"Hello, Sherlock," he grinned. "Miss me?"

"Don't be ridiculous. No one would miss a serial murderer."

Jim tutted. "But you're one too."

Sherlock paused.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Anyways," Jim cut to the chase. "Let's make a deal. I get Molly, and I promise I won't touch your three little friends, alright?"

"Let's alter the terms of the deal a bit, shall we? I get Molly, and you won't touch the others anyway." Sherlock smiled at him, though the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Um…" The two turned to look at her. "Jim, you can come visit me if you like. But I've still got a cadaver to cut up this afternoon, so…"

"Oh, no, by all means. Leave! You're free to go!" He waved his arm at the door. "I'll be by sometime. Wait for me."

Three minutes later, Molly and Sherlock were sitting in a cab on their way to 221B.

"That was simpler than expected," Molly broke the silence nervously. "I thought for sure I wasn't getting out of there alive."

Sherlock simply stared at her, his expression inscrutable.

"What?" She rubbed her cheeks. "Is there something on my face?"

"Moriarty likes you." He finally said.

"Uh…" She didn't quite know how to respond. She had had her doubts before the Fall, but she had thought he had used her as a pawn just to get to Sherlock. Now though, she wasn't so sure.

"Moriarty likes you." He sneered, his teeth bared.

She felt the slightest bit offended. Was she so unlikeable that no one, absolutely no one could ever like her?

"Sorry. I believe that's none of your business." She glared at him.

He glared back.

One second later, she found his mouth crushed against hers as she furiously tugged at his curls. Their lips moved in sync as he demanded more and more from her, his tongue pressing against her lips.

A minute later, he pulled back a bit, his forehead still leaning against hers.

"Promise you won't see him again."

She looked at him skeptically.

"I can't control that. You know that, Sherlock."

"Then promise you'll move in with me. I can't risk him taking you away from me."

Molly smiled at him, her eyes twinkling. She leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose.

"I'm all yours."