Hello! I've been wanting to write a Howl's AU for so long and I finally got the courage to do so.

I want to thank my beta tumblr user 'mollymatterrs' for looking over my mess of writing and making it presentable. I hope you all enjoy my little story and feel free to tell me so!

I don't own any of the characters or the characters they're based on.

enjoy!

Chapter 1

Molly Hooper, age 23. Occupation: Pathologist—or rather, pathologist in training. The type of girl who liked to be by herself, Molly tended to blend into the background and stay out of trouble. She enjoyed what she did for a living, and she was mostly content with her life.

"Molly!" she heard one of her co-workers shout as she entered the morgue with a group of others.

The young girl looked up from the corpse she was currently sewing up.

"Yes?" she said a little too cheerily.

Meena gave her a look before talking. "The girls and I are going out to lunch; we're going to see if we'll spot Sherlock Holmes!" she said in excitement.

"I heard he steals girl's hearts!" said one of the girls in the background.

Molly covered up the body and snapped off her gloves. "If he steals their hearts, why are you looking for him?"

Over the years she had heard many tales about Sherlock Holmes. He lived in a huge contraption that many people called a castle, but the way they described it made it seem more like of a piece of moving rubbish to her. There were only a few who had seen his castle, or had claimed to have seen it. Molly swore she'd caught a glimpse once, but it was probably her imagination. A series of giggles broke Molly's thoughts.

"We're not looking for him," scoffed one of the girls. "We want to see if we spot him. There's a difference."

"No it's not," hummed Molly in reply.

The girl let out a sigh, causing Meena to nudge her painfully.

"Ouch! What was that for?" the girl asked.

Meena shot her a glare before turning her attention to Molly. "So, are you coming?"

Molly bit at her lower lip before shaking her head. "No, I don't think so, sorry. Maybe next time; plus I have to go visit a friend in a bit."

Meena let out a sigh and urged the other girls out. "Alright, maybe next time. See you."

The morgue grew quiet and Molly could hear the girls talking.

"She never wants to come with us."

"I don't like her very much."

"Maybe she's scared Sherlock will appear."

"He only appears to pretty girls."

Molly frowned as she heard the series of giggles fade away. She had never considered herself pretty or beautiful, but she was smart. While all her friends were going off and dating, that or getting married, Molly was always hidden behind a book. She liked it that way; she liked learning. Knowledge was everything to her. If a man was only interested in her looks and not her brain, then he wasn't the one for her. With a sigh, Molly put away the body and began putting on her coat and scarf, readying herself to visit Mary. This was one appointment she could not miss.

Molly decided to stop by Mary's favorite bakery to get her some pastries; though it seemed as though London was having a festival of some sort. The streets were littered with people who were laughing and cheering, making it a little difficult for Molly to take her usual route to the bakery. Clearly she'd have to take another way. The young pathologist-in-training entered an empty alleyway; the noise of people celebrating was drowned out as she walked further down the alley, which was much darker than she'd originally perceived it to be. Behind her, she heard laughter and Molly's heart began to pound through her chest, for as she turned the corner she had spotted two men dressed in Army uniforms, officious and conversing quietly with each other. Molly breathed out and relaxed a little, but she still kept a cautious eye on them. Normally, soldiers were trustworthy, but these two had a certain darkness about them that unnerved her.

"You just have to walk past them quickly," she told herself and she hurried past them. She almost thought she was safe until one of them called her.

"Hey!"

Molly froze and turned slowly, as one of the soldiers, the taller, blonde one, smiled at her.

"Hey beautiful," he said with a grin. Molly blushed and looked down at her feet.

"You're making her blush," teased the smaller man.

"Oh I think it's cute." Seeing that Molly had begun to look away from him, he placed a hand on her chin. "Hey, look at me," he said as he lifted her head towards him. "What's your name sweet? I'm Sebastian."

Molly pulled her head away. "I have to go."

"Come on, don't be like that! Stay. We can hang out for a bit; we'll take you to the festival. It's dedicated to us you know." he said proudly, "We've been real brave at the war front." He grinned and walked closer to her, almost pressing her against the wall. "Don't you want to hang out with us for a while? We have to go back and fight tomorrow. I'd really like something to remember when I'm fighting out there."

Molly furrowed her brows and shook her head. "I-I-I—"

"Oh, there you are, darling," said a deep baritone voice behind them. Sebastian glanced over his shoulder at the intruder; a tall thin man, he glared at Sebastian and he turned to look at Molly. His gaze was piercing. He pushed past Sebastian and slipped his arm around her waist.

"I've been looking everywhere for you. I hope you didn't miss me terribly," he said smoothly. Molly stared up at the stranger, but he was too busy glaring at Sebastian and the other man.

"I-I-I..." she stuttered.

"Of course, dear," replied the man, though he still did not look at her. "We really must go. We'll be late for our appointment."

Without another word, he tugged her away gently and the two began walking.

Molly was in shock. Or she was at least dreaming because Sherlock Holmes, one of the best wizards in all of England, was currently walking beside her. Her mind whirled. What was she supposed to do? Were all the rumors surrounding this man true? Should she be worried? What if he stole her heart?! She didn't dare look at him—but perhaps she could take a peek. Molly glanced over at Sherlock, and her eyes widened when she saw him looking down at her. Those piercing blue-green eyes looked at her again, and seemed to bore into her core.

"Stop that," he said quickly.

"S-Stop what?" she asked as she turned her head and looked at the road in front of her.

"Thinking. It's annoying."

Molly frowned and looked back at him, opening her mouth to say something, but his grip on her waist tightened.

"Don't panic, but we're being followed," he said in a low, hurried voice.

Molly looked over her shoulder and saw the men from earlier. They were walking rapidly towards them and although she had specifically been told not to panic that was exactly what she began doing. Sherlock must have sensed it because he began to walk faster. The men behind them—who had once claimed themselves to be respectable soldiers—seemed to transform, their bodies twisting and writhing into the shapes of dark, terrifying demons. Sherlock pressed her closer against him.

"Don't look behind us," he warned.

Molly looked over her shoulder and saw that the two men (demons?) had multiplied over and over until they had become almost a dozen. Molly squeaked in horror, but to her surprise, Sherlock let out a sigh.

"I told you not to look!" he scowled.

"I'm sorry!"

"Hold on to me," he demanded.

"What?"

"You heard me. Don't be boring, you heard what I said."

Molly didn't have time to say anything, for she was tripping over her feet as he continued to walk fast. It felt as if she were floating... wait a minute... She was floating!

"Don't look down."

"Oh my God!" she squeaked. "Oh God!"

"Not quite," he replied coolly. Molly's feet flailed in the air and she held on tighter to Sherlock's coat."Don't let go of me!"

Sherlock gave her a throaty chuckle and held on to her tighter.

"Follow my movements," he instructed her, and for a moment she wanted to ask what he meant, but as he began to move his legs as if he were walking on solid ground, Molly found herself mimicking his movements. Soon enough, the two were walking in and on the air—quite literally. Molly let out a laugh of delight. Once she had got past the fact that she was in the wide open air, it was actually kind of...well, nice. The pair walked over the unsuspecting crowd below them, all too busy in their celebration to notice the pair in the sky.

"Who were those—men?" Molly asked after a while, swallowing slightly.

"Wizards," spat Sherlock. "They gave themselves over, and they've become monsters."

Molly knew by his tone that the subject would no longer be discussed. So she instead told him she could see Mary's flat, pointed out the building and gasped slightly as Sherlock deftly set her on the balcony of the second floor. He gave her a smirk as her feet touched at the wooden floor. He on the other hand was standing on the balcony railing.

"It was a delight," he said with a smile, "but I wasn't lying about being late to an appointment."

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Until next time," he said as he jumped down the railing. Molly gasped again and rushed towards the railing, leaning over to see where he had gone, but she saw nothing. Sherlock Holmes had disappeared into the crowd of people and left a bewildered Molly standing on the balcony.

"Molly!"

She turned around, just as Mary trotted out into the balcony.

"Oh," she said softly. "Hello, Mary."

"Mrs. Hudson just told me she saw you fly in with Sherlock Holmes!"

Molly gave her a slight smile but only nodded, causing Mary to place both of her hands on her shoulders and she shook her lightly.

"C'mon, tell me everything!" she said with too much enthusiasm to handle.

"Alright, alright. Let's go inside."

x

Once inside, Molly found herself sitting across from Mary and Mrs. Hudson, who just so happened to invite herself to tea after the whole Sherlock ordeal. Breathlessly, Molly recounted to them the entire event of the soldiers, the flight and how Sherlock Holmes had so swiftly rescued her from a possibly unfortunate state.

"And well that's pretty much all that happened," she finished. Mrs. Hudson and Mary gaped as they absorbed her tale. After a moment, Mrs. Hudson spoke.

"That's quite an interesting tale, dear," she said, taking a sip from her tea.

"Do you think he wants to steal your heart?" Mary asked. "I heard he does that—and that he performs experiments on them!"
Molly snorted and took a sip of her tea. "He only steals pretty girl's hearts."

"Psh, you're beautiful, Molly! You know you are. Stop thinking you're not!"

Molly rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to argue, but was stopped as she remembered. "Mary!"

"What?! What is it!?" replied Mary, startled by her friend's sudden anxiety.

"I was going to buy you some of those little blue berry pastries you like," Molly said with a pout. Mary and Mrs. Hudson looked to each other before they burst into laughter.

"Molly Hooper, you just had an encounter with the enigmatic Sherlock Holmes, and that's all you can think of?" said Mary between laughter. Molly glared at them and finished up her tea.

"Well, excuse me for wanting to bring you a treat," she muttered.

x

"Must you really go?" said Mary sadly as her friend prepared to go. Molly understood her negative mood; it had been months since they had seen one another. With a nod, she brought Mary into a hug.

"Sorry, but I have to go back to work."

"Okay, but I don't know why you like working there, Molly. It's kind of creepy."

"I like it, no one bothers me there. Plus my patients don't complain," she said with a giggle.

"Don't make jokes, Molly," Mary said with a sigh, but she brought her into another hug before releasing her. "Promise we'll hang out soon?"

"Promise."

Mary raised an eyebrow. "You're a shitty liar."

Molly smirked before she departed Mary's home and made her way back to the morgue. She hoped to finish her shift quickly; then she could go home and get the day's insane, exhilarating adventure out of her system.

The morgue was quiet, it was late and Mike Stamford had left hours ago leaving Molly working in the morgue alone. After a while, she decided that she absolutely hated it. Of course she liked the quiet, but she couldn't bare it after a certain amount of hours. It always became so... eerie. Molly continued to fill out her paperwork, hoping to be done quickly. She'd have to probably end up taking the Underground home tonight, since she didn't feel safe walking home—especially with what had transpired earlier that day.

A noise caused Molly to quickly look up. She narrowed her eyes and stared ahead at the dark hall.

"Hello?" she called out, only to be welcomed by complete silence. She let out a sigh.

"It's only your imagination, Molly," she told herself, "just finish this up and you can go home."

As she continued writing out the piles of paperwork, she heard what sounded like the door slamming. Molly stood absolutely still, eyes wide with fear and worry. A woman came into her view and Molly couldn't help but admire her beauty; the woman had reddish brown hair and gorgeous green eyes. Once she was spotted, the woman gave her a dazzling grin.

"Hm. You're rather plain aren't you?"

Molly's brows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

"And so little—you aren't a suitable companion for Mr. Holmes. So then... why you?"

It didn't seem as though she was talking directly at her. The woman seemed to be in her own world.

"You can't have him," she said finally, aiming a look at Molly.

"I'm sorry? Have who?" she asked, frowning. "Now listen Miss—"

"Irene."

She blinked once, before she gave a nod. "Fine. Irene, listen. I don't know who you're talking about, but you're not allowed back here."

Irene checked her perfectly polished nails and smirked. "You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, Molly Hooper."

Molly froze in her place. How did this woman know her name? Irene grinned and looked over at her.

"Oh yes, I know who you are."

She gave her a wink, causing Molly to shudder.

"I want you to stay away from him," growled Irene.

"W-Who?" replied Molly nervously.

"Sherlock Holmes!"

Molly audibly gulped.

"You're going to see him again, aren't you?"

"I think it's time for you to go," Molly said finally, voice stern.

"Standing up to the witch of the waste, that's rather bold of you," said Irene with a grin.

"The witch of the waste?" gasped Molly.

She internally panicked. A witch?! Her father had warned her about witches; he'd told her they could be pretty wicked, especially when they were mad, and this witch seemed pretty mad—at her. This was all Sherlock bloody Holmes' fault! Why would she even go to see him? Even if she did want to see him again (and she wasn't saying she did), she wouldn't know how to even begin to find him. Irene watched her carefully and Molly could see something in her eyes light up. The air in the room seemed to change. It seemed to darken, somehow. Molly didn't have time to react, for the woman had gone, only to be replaced by a cloud of black smoke. The cloud hurdled itself at her, and Molly let out a painful gasp as she felt a sharp pain shoot through her body. She collapsed to her knees, body shivering and let out a gasp. Weak—she felt weak. She lifted her head up weakly, to see the cloud gone and Irene walking away. She gave a horrendous laugh.

"The best thing about curses is that you can't tell anyone about them! Tell Sherlock I send my love," she said as she exited from the morgue, the tap of her heels fading slowly away.

Molly stayed in the same position for what felt like forever. Her body felt different—maybe she had been turned into a frog? With difficulty, she managed to get up from the floor. Something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She fully turned to stare at the person looking back at her. She walked closer to examine the reflection looking back. It was an old woman; she looked around eighty, she looked like...

"Me," she whispered.