A/N- I would like to thank kaz1370 for the idea for this story. You're awesome.
Disclaimer- I do not own Sherlock.
"Molly Hooper." He states, walking into her kitchen as she chops up carrots for her salad. It's a rather large knife that she uses, but Jim Moriarty isn't scared. He can see the gun in the holster attached to her pants, but he doesn't flinch or draw his own. He grins as she jumps in the air and turns slowly, the knife in front of her. He hadn't brought backup or told his people to make sure he came out. He wouldn't need to.
"Jim!" She gasps, backing up into her counter, holding the knife like a shield. She isn't as scared as he thought she'd be, but he pushes on, unwilling to let that disappoint him. Molly tries to back up further into the counter, and Jim's smile grows. He's already forgotten that her phone is in her back pocket. He doesn't notice her wiggling around carefully, not uncomfortably."What... what are you doing here?"
"Thought I'd drop in." Jim says casually. He pulls out a chair from her counter and sits down, gesturing for her to sit next to him. She doesn't move. "Come on, Molly. Take a seat."
"No thank you, Jim," She says cautiously. He laughs, loud and abrasive. She jumps again at the sudden noise. Molly the mouse, he thinks. So jumpy, so little so easily frightened and fooled. Her light brown hair is longer than it used to be, and it's been put up in a high ponytail. Sometime in the past few years, she learned how to properly apply makeup for more than dead people, because she looks nice. Her sweater isn't quite as garish as the ones he's used to. Still, this is still the same little ole Molly Hooper from the past. He likes to think that the gun she carries is his mark on her. That he took away the one thing about her that's different from three years ago. Her innocence.
"Why don't you be a good host and make some coffee?" His tone is almost sickly sweet, but his expression is anything but. She looks at him for a moment and sets down the knife carefully.
"How do you take it?" She asks casually and he stares at her in shock for a moment, before snapping back. Maybe she was still a little bit in love with Jim from IT. God, how he had hated that role, until Sherlock came around. He made things interesting. He always did. Not like Molly with her cat, stupid TV shows, and boring predictability. She had a gun this time, yes, but she would never use it. "I take it with two creams, four sugars."
"Black." He tells her. "I take it black."
"Right," Molly says meekly, looking over her shoulder every once in a while as she makes the coffee.
Jim knows that he made a mistake in not targeting Molly, but in a way, it was her fault. She was just so plain and boring and ordinary. He had forgotten that she was Sherlock's pathologist. Sherlock had brushed her off so easily, how was he to know their relationship was so interesting? Molly Hooper had been a mistake, but it wouldn't have mattered if Sherlock hadn't seen her either.
Sherlock. His enemy. The man who made his life a little less boring. Jim liked the games they played together. Once Sherlock is eliminated, it wouldn't be worth it, nothing would be worth it. Molly Hooper has become one of Sherlock's friends, but he didn't know how. Still, it made things complicated. He should have killed her when he had the chance. Now, he has to use her. A ball of fur rubs against his leg. He wrinkles his nose.
"You still have this thing?" He asks in disgust, picking the cat up and setting it on the counter. Toby isn't human, but Jim notices with glee, that Toby the cat is still smart enough to be scared of him. Molly Hooper, he decides, as she turns to see what he's talking about, isn't scared enough.
"Yes, I still have Toby." She huffs indignantly. " As I recall, you loved Toby."
"I lied. I do that a lot you know."
"I noticed."
"How's Sherlock? What about John, is John's little family doing well? I hear that Al-Mary's about to pop." He says in a menacing tone. He smiles manically as Molly freezes up, her shoulders hunching. Jim knows he's hit her weak spot. Molly Hooper would do anything to protect the ones she loves. "What about Lestrade, how is he, newly divorced right? I bet he would be a far easier catch than Sherlock, Molly."
"I..." She gulps fearfully her hands shaking and her face whitening. It occurs to her, that no matter how this ends, if she makes it out alive, Sherlock's going to insist on her moving in with him for protection. If she's alive that is, and she thinks she will be. Jim, she thought, was making mistakes left and right. He was far more comfortable than he should have been. He may see her now, but he still underestimated her. "... will never tell you anything about them."
"Oh, but Molly, dear," He coos sweetly before dropping his gin and smirking menacingly. "I don't need you to."
"Why?" She asks softly and he's confused for a moment before it all becomes clear. He gives out another laugh. Molly is so easy to play with, she's a puppet, and now that he has her on his string, Jims going to make sure she dances. If she wants the lives of her friends intact. He can't really kill any of them just yet, they're all too close to Sherlock, but Molly doesn't know that. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because," He whispers and stands up from the stool. He walks so he's right behind her and puts his hands on both her shoulders, leaning in so he can whisper in her ear. "Life's a game, Molly Hooper, and I like my games fun. Just like now. I could kill you if I wanted to, but that would be boring. I'd rather just play cat and mouse."
"I don't think that you have the right definition of fun." She quivers and he can feel her tense shoulders, her attempts at holding back just how terrified she really is. He can feel her bravery, barely there and not nearly enough to take action. Jim resist the tempting urge to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze. He could do it right this instant, but, oh, it would be so counterproductive. Anyways, he's never been one for getting his hands dirty. He steps back and the coffee machine beeps, signaling the coffee's ready. Molly breathes a sigh of relief and Jim stops.
"Your definition's just boring." He walks towards the counter and grabs Toby, dropping him back onto the floor unceremoniously. "I won't be needing the coffee Molly dear, but thanks anyways. Just remember what I told you!"
"Okay." Molly whispers. Jim turns and starts to walk out of the kitchen. He thinks that this was the most fun he's had in a while. Molly wonders why it's taking them so long to get here, he's about to leave. Jim hums as he walks through the door.
Molly Hooper shoots him on the way out.
When Sherlock and half of Scotland Yard enter, Molly is sipping the coffee she made, two creams, and four sugars. They look at the body of Jim Moriarty in shock. Well, all except Sherlock Holmes.
"He's dead. I already checked." She says, mostly to Sherlock, who doesn't even blink. "Those lessons you made me take with Mary were a good idea."
"Very well." He announces, picking up Toby, who's been hiding in between Molly's legs since she shot Jim, and stroking him. "I suppose you'll have to move into 221B Baker Street with me, for protection of course."
Wow. I just pumped this one out. I'm on a writing high. Thanks for reading. Tell me what you think. Evie :D