Hello, this is the Queen speaking.

This fic takes place after 'A Scandal in Belgravia' after the Christmas party. Sorry to Irene fans but you won't be seeing much of her in this fic, so I'll apologise now for the absence of Adler.

Review and tell me what you think! Thank you for giving this fic a chance.

...

Molly couldn't feel the cold weather around her. She couldn't smell the sweet aromas of food from the pubs as she past, nor could she smell the fumes from the cars as they sped away down the busy streets of London. She couldn't hear the cars on the roads, her feet hitting the pavement or the happy friends and families laughing together in holiday celebrations. She was numb. Numbed by Sherlock's cruel words, and cutting deductions. His words had left her cold.

Stumbling along the pavement, trying and failing to gain the attention of a cab, she tattled on, her heels clacking in the almost deserted streets. So caught up in her attempts to hail a cab, Molly failed to notice the black car slowly pulling up beside her. The vehicle slowed completely coming to a stop quite near her. The headlights went of as the car doors began to open. The sudden change in light caused Molly to stop. Something was wrong.

Before she could turn around an arm curled around her waist, holding her in a steely grip, lifting her of the ground. Molly screamed and kicked, clawing at her attacker with her hands. Just as she drew in a breath to scream again another gloved hand slammed down over her mouth, muffling her yell for help.

The two men dragged the thrashing Molly and all but threw her into the car, slamming the door behind her. As she raised her hands to bang on the glass window she stilled. There was someone else in the back seat with her.

"What a lovely dress, Molly Mouse!" Came a smooth Irish voice. "Did you wear it for me?"

...

John was already furious at Sherlock for the way he had berated Molly, but then he then had the nerve, the nerve, to scurry of to his bedroom and sulk like a child, as if he had been the one who had been insulted.

Poor Molly had left an hour ago. John had asked her to call him when she got home, to tell him that she was safe, but over an hour later and still no sign from her. Weird, she should be home by now. John decided to put it down to having forgotten to call and texted her instead.

Hi Molls. Just texting to make sure your alright. Call me when you get home. Or if you are home, call me when you read this. Or just text me. Merry Christmas.

John

Now all he could do was wait. Jennet had left a little while after Molly, and Greg had followed a half hour after that. Now it was down to him, Mrs Hudson and Sherlock to clean up the aftermath of the party. Or more accurately, down to him and Mrs Hudson seeing as Sherlock should no signs of leaving his sulking for a good long while.

After the clean up was over John checked his phone again. No massages, Missed calls or any sign of life from Molly.

"Sherlock!" John called to the bedroom. "I think something might have happened to Molly."

"Oh, she's fine!" Sherlock called back "She'll get over it. She always does."

...

"What a lovely dress, Molly Mouse." Came a smooth Irish voice. "Did you wear it for me?"

Molly slowly turned her head, breathing heavy. No one's voice could turn her to stone like his. She didn't even need to turn to now who it was. There sitting next to her in the back of the car was none other than James Moriarty. A sickeningly sweet smile curled along his lips, contorting his face, but never reaching his eyes.

"You do look stunning as always. Sherly can really be so blind can't he." Jim said, his hand snaking out from his lap to the top of her shoulder. Cold fingers brushed her skin as he pulled down the fluffy coat that protected her from his villainous eyes, peering at her as if she were a present, waiting to be unwrapped, played with, and then broken.

"Please don't..." her voice came out in an uneven whisper, but she didn't move, she couldn't move, not with those soulless pools glaring into her.

"Oh you don't need to be scared Molly Mouse. You know Daddy would never hurt you." He cooed, his hand sliding around the skin at the base of her neck. Suddenly his hand shoot out and snaked around her neck, pressing her to the back of her seat. "But he will if he has to. You know that. Don't you, Molly Mouse?"

...

Well then Molly's in trouble, but will Sherlock be able to pull his head out of his ass long enough to save her?

Thanks and review.