Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC.
'Did you miss me?'
Molly Hooper froze when she saw the broadcast. "Molly!" Doors were pushed opened and she was buried in the consulting detective's warm embrace. On his way to St. Bart's, Sherlock suddenly realised that nothing was more important than having Molly in his arms. The pathologist was everything to him and Sherlock would do whatever he could to protect her; he had held back his feelings for Molly for far too long.
The night was cold and windy when she entered the Diogenes Club. "You wanted to talk to me?" The pathologist inquired as she sat down on the offered seat. Mycroft studied her and Molly was getting self-conscious under his intense scrutiny but she did not show it. Instead, Molly waited patiently for the British Government to state his intention. "The broadcast," her back stiffened slightly and the reaction was naturally picked up by Mycroft, "led us to you, Miss Hooper. Do you wish to explain yourself?"
Molly blinked slowly and it was as if another character surfaced and finally resumed her rightful place. The stuttering and timid voice was gone as the pathologist spoke, "I don't think you are interested in my explanation, Mr Holmes." It was smooth, confident and without fear. "What do you want?" Molly smiled at his question.
"The game was momentarily put on hold because of Jim's death and now it will recommence. I'm sure you had already been informed about the infiltration of multiple government agencies. You know better than I that the attack, once launched, will bring down the entire system overnight. The request is simple, hand over Sherlock Holmes. I wonder, who do you love more, Mr Holmes? Your baby brother or your country?"
The British Government ran a finger across his chin. "I can make you call off the attack, Miss Hooper." Molly shook her head and disproved his assumption. "This tactic might work on Jim but it will not work on me so no, you cannot make me call off the attack, Mr Holmes." She glanced around the Diogenes Club, "It would seem that we both had said our lot so I'll leave you to ponder on your choice. You have until tomorrow morning to consider before the attack starts."
The pathologist was about to stand up when Mycroft interrupted her, "Do you think you can just walk out of here, scot-free?" Molly turned to the British Government. "Oh yes, you will let me walk out of here, scot-free when I happened to possess, to you at least, the most valuable object in the world – Sherlock's heart. Caring is not an advantage? You are absolutely right, Mr Holmes. Good day."
Molly opened the door and frowned for a few seconds before switching on the lights. "Would you like to have coffee or tea, Sherlock?" The pathologist made her way to the kitchen and began to prepare the drinks. "Why?" The one syllable, though short, could not mask the hurt in it. The sound of drawers opening and closing continued after an unnoticeable pause. "I'm offering beverages to my guest..."
"Why?" The consulting detective asked again and the pain radiating from that word amplified. "Or do you prefer hot chocolate?" Incensed, Sherlock rose from his chair and shouted, "This is not a fucking game, Molly!" She slammed her Dr Who mug onto the countertop and walked over to the man. "Was I not a game to you? For the majority of times, I was invisible to you, I was nothing to you. You were nice to me only when you needed my help and after I fulfilled my purpose, you threw me away like a piece of rubbish!"
Molly drew herself closer to him, "I nearly blew my cover because every time I saw you, my hands itched to slap your annoying face. Do you know how difficult it was, pretending to be a stupid girl with the silliest crush on the world's greatest git? Do you feel cheated? Are you humiliated by the display of your sentiments earlier on? That's why you are here, confronting me? No one is going to pity you for you deserve it. You are not a hero, Sherlock Holmes and it's not for the lack of trying."
The pathologist could hear his uneven breathing and she was sure he could hear hers too. "You. Repel. Me. You egoistic, manipulative-" Sherlock swallowed the rest of Molly's words with his mouth. He hungrily suckled and nipped at her lips while she was struggling to remove herself from his strong hold. Molly bit on the invading tongue and a loud smack resonated in the living room. All was left, aside from the abrupt and strained silence, were the broken pieces of the consulting detective's heart.
With a disgusted look, she wiped her mouth and said, "Get out. Get out of my house; I don't want to see you. GET OUT!" Without another word, Sherlock headed to the door and one could almost hear the crushing of heart pieces when the consulting detective had to tread on them just so he could leave. The pathologist lowered her eyelids and changed into a neutral expression as a tall man stepped out of her room.
"Do you still want me to call you Tom or your first name?" The sniper answered dutifully, "Tom will do." Molly sighed resignedly. "Only Jim can call you Sebastian huh? I know it must be hard for you to see me taking his place but I'm not replacing him…Never mind, you may return to the Network first. I have other matters to deal with." An unrelated memory slipped out of the pathologist's tightly guarded mind and she smirked softly at it.
"Are you sure Miss Adler is the right player for this round?" Molly questioned the consulting criminal who was going through a report. "Jealous, Molls? Afraid that your darling consulting detective would get stolen by her?" The pathologist rolled her eyes at the immature comment, "Who's the jealous one now, Jimmy?"
The pathologist was resting when someone banged on the door and snapped Molly out of her tiredness. "What exactly are you playing, Molly?" John interrogated her angrily and hot on his heels, was the very pregnant Mrs Watson. "New record for the most number of visitors in a day," she quipped which made the doctor all the more furious but he was stopped by his wife. "Let's hear what Molly has to say, John."
"I have nothing to say to you both. Leave while you can, John. It would be too bad if your child lost her father before she was even born." Shocked at what he heard, the doctor asked pleadingly, "Are you actually threatening me? What ever happened to you, Molly?" The pathologist leashed out, "Mousy Molly is dead! If you have any care for your daughter, you will leave now." She then faced Mary, "I have never forgotten about the promise that I made to you when we were young. Go home."
Mary was punished harshly for attempting to run away. She was too weak to cry out under the assault of raining punches so the girl could only wait helplessly for it to end. "Stop!" Miraculously, the beating did stop and Mary looked up from her crouching position. A girl around the same age as her stood in front of Mary. "Jimmy has Sebastian and you told me that I can have a bodyguard too so may I choose her?"
The girl with pigtails pointed to Mary and she cocked her head at the man standing behind them, asking for approval. "Hmm." He agreed to her request and left, with all the drug lords obediently following him. She squatted down and gently dabbed off the blood that was dripping from Mary's mouth. "I'm Molly. Would you like to be my friend? Don't worry; from now on, no one would dare to hurt you because I will protect you. Pinky promise?" Despite feeling pain from all over her body, Mary smiled when they entwined their little fingers.
I will protect you.
(I will also protect your loved ones.)
"W-what promise? The two of you knew each other a long time ago? How many more secrets are you still hiding from me, Mary?" The nurse was quick to reassure her husband, "No more, I swear!" and Molly added, "Don't blame Mary; I forced her to not say anything about my real identity and our past connections or else I would reveal her true origins. For your child's sake, I advise you to stay out of this. Your daughter does not need a hero; she needs a father and preferably one that is alive."
'Tick-tock, time is running out for you, Molls and so many things to do.'
After successfully kicking the Watsons out of her flat, she went back to the sofa. "Shut up, Jim." The pathologist muttered and propped her head with her fist. Deep in her own thoughts, Molly played with the thumb drive, twirling it between her fingers distractingly. When Sergeant Donovan arrived to work the next day, the thumb drive was lying in her pocket.
"What's this?" Sally eyed the tiny device warily. "Incriminating evidence of my crimes." Molly answered casually and the Sergeant screamed, "Are you bloody insane? What do you think you are doing?" The pathologist grinned, "Everyone seems to be asking me the same question tonight. When Greg introduced you to me, I initially warned you to keep your distance. You managed to escape from the Network, mostly unscathed and there's no reason for you to get involved again unless duty calls. Now, I want you to arrest me, Sally."
The pathologist was putting her Christmas presents away when the Scotland Yard stormed into her house. "Due to overwhelming evidence indicating your participation to a long list of crimes, a warrant was issued for your arrest. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in Court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence." Sally informed Molly on her right of silence as she was handcuffed.
The Crown Prosecutor was eager to start the trial for she was considered a big catch and walking up the stairs leading to the Court; Molly halted and stared at the rare clear London sky. "What are you looking at?" The pathologist gave a little sad smile, "I'm counting time." A bullet then hit her chest and she collapsed. As darkness arrived, the last thing she saw was Sherlock rushing over to her. The sniper expertly disassembled his weapon and retreated from his vantage point, leaving no traces behind.
When the Watsons returned from the hospital with their new-born daughter in tow, the couple were surprised to find a box sitting on the table. Mary cradled the baby while John unwrapped the present, untying the bow and such. The gift was in fact a thick file. The doctor skimmed through the first page before passing it to his wife. John took over little Rosie so Mary could read the documents and tears began to fall as she slowly came to a realisation. "This is my original record. My background, my past assignments…she found it, Molly found it…"
Mary hugged the file and leaned her head on John's shoulder. "It's alright now; everything is alright now, sweetheart." He comforted her and plucked out a small note from the box.
Thank you for trusting me even though I had given you little reason to do so.
As for the documents, do as you deemed fit.
Love, Molly
The British Government was ready for a hot bath after the exhausting six-hour long video conference with the Arabic officials when he saw a box on his desk and for a moment, Mycroft had the horrible thought that Christmas was not over yet but thank Heavens it was indeed over. After visually confirming that the present did not contain any explosives, the British Government started to unwrap it. Mycroft immediately understood what the gift was about. They were names of the moles that infiltrated every corners of the Government and there was a footnote.
I hope this will help you in your endeavours.
"You have a package, Sherlock." Mrs Hudson announced to the consulting detective and he nodded in response. Sherlock did the necessary deductions before opening the box. Inside was a skull, a female skull to be precise and a note was accompanied with it.
Her name is Helen Louise and I think Billy will enjoy her companionship.
The consulting detective shook the skull and he could hear a rattling sound. Sherlock carefully dug out the mini SD card and inserted it into the card reader attached to his laptop. The memory only had one video clip. When he clicked on it, Molly appeared on the screen and she smiled nervously at him. Sherlock could not help but to smile back albeit it was a wobbly one. He missed her, more than he could say.
"Hi Sherlock, I hope you are well. Right from the start, Jim was the appointed successor but he was too unstable. His mind proved too much for him to handle and he lost control of reality. With Jim gone, I became 'next in the line' for the position. I never wanted it but I could not break free from him. He orchestrated the broadcast on my behalf so to force me into joining the game as a substitute player."
Molly continued, "It was true when I told Mycroft that he cannot make me call off the attack because I was not the mastermind behind it. In order to foil his plan, I let myself get arrested hence removing his last line of defence. Without a scapegoat, he would have to call off the attack if he wishes to remain in the dark. I also know that he would make me pay for what I did. He's coming, Sherlock. Sherrinford is coming for you and forgive me for saying those horrible things to you, I didn't mean it. I'm so sorry..."
The pathologist tried to shift the mood and speak in a more joyous tone. "Well, you better like my present as I put a lot of thought into it. Merry Christmas, Sherlock." Molly was full of smiles but the consulting detective knew they shared the same reason as to why their eyes were suspiciously bright by the end of the video.
"I don't give a fig about the public's opinion, Molly was not evil. You know, she once came across my husband being abusive to me and said if she saw him hitting me again, she would cut off his member before stuffing it into his mouth to muffle the screams." Mrs Hudson spoke quietly with a hint of amusement. Sherlock noticed that the landlady was also holding a box. "What did she give you?" She grinned fondly, "The deed to this building."
"Congratulations, Mrs Hudson. I heard your husband was sentenced to death in Florida. I have a building in London. If you don't mind, you can be my proxy and you may decide as to who you want to rent the two other rooms to. It's on Baker Street, rather a prime location so think about it."
"One who walks among angels and demons is called human. That's a unique epitaph." The sniper raised his eyebrows at the tombstone and Molly nudged him. "Hey, have some respect for my grave alright?" He then remarked, "It is well taken care of." Smiling faintly, she agreed, "It is."
Author's note: Just an idea of mine if Molly turned out to be on the same side as Moriarty.
To all readers, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! *hugs and kisses*