He'd forgotten what it was like to be just James and, honestly, he never thought he'd enjoy this part of the charade, he hadn't ever indulged in the mundane tasks of ordinary people. It was a strange sensation to feel a twinge of guilt as she laughed in earnest at a joke he told. Most chuckled awkwardly, realizing the morbid joke their leader had made. But she had no reason to, no reason to appease him or earn his favor. Molly Hooper just enjoys him, well, she enjoys Jim from IT. But the only difference between Jim from IT and James Moriarty is just a teensy bit of murder and mayhem.
His arm loops tighter around her small waist and he feels her sight under his touch, her head coming to rest on his shoulder.
NO, he screams internally, seething and boiling at his own actions as his fingertips brush down the expanse of her arm and he takes in the scent of her shampoo. He sings very quietly along with the song he knows from the American sitcom she's picked out. It would be better with more blood, but the musical numbers are fine. He makes a list in his head of which ones he'd mark off first, even while he continues to sing cheerful the melody under his breath.
"You're good." Molly says, smiling up at him, her large brown eyes shining like the Crowned Jewels. His gut clenches and his smile tightens.
"I'm really not." He feels the corners of his mouth twitching in fighting a frown. It takes physical effort to not just cave under her gaze
She would take it as a lack of self-confidence, like any other ordinary person would. He expects teasing and back and forth debate which would end in him tickling her sides while she swatted at him playfully.
But something flits across her expressive face as she pulls away from him and whispers, "Everyone has something good inside of them, Jim."
At that, he wants to take her from the life she knows and immerse her into his world, keeping her by his side in the darkness, to bring him comfort that he has never known.
He's heard about beings like her, but had never seen one, undeserving of such visions because of his life choices. He had mocked them from a distance, but inwardly feared their wrath.
"You're an angel." He mumbles, brushing a piece of her hair back behind her ear, caressing her neck gently, and feeling her pulse under his fingers. He could break her right here, under his hands before he had the chance to truly taint her. To take away that glorious pure shine.
Molly doesn't say a word as she leans into his touch.
So willing, so trusting in his hands.
Her eyes close and he knows his fate is sealed for her. James Moriarty can not break her now.
The rich furs stroke his cheek as he waits for the authorities to arrive. He knows they will, his message could not be clearer. James glances at the scepter in his hand and realizes that he was wrong.
Molly shines much brighter than the gold that's glinting in his hands. He hums to the tune from his ear-buds and his foot sways to the beat. Jim smiles as an image of Molly dances in front of him, much like she had in her living room with him.
It is his fall because he knows that she will save him in the end. He will lose because he has let himself be weakened by trembling lips and an iron stomach.
At the trial, he makes the mistake of catching her eye. Moriarty gives her the most horrendous smile he can manage. Molly only blinks sadly and tilts her head, he reads the sign. You could still be good.
He really can't. He'd like to think that he could have tried for her, but that would be a lie. The only good he's ever done in his life was walking away while leaving her untainted by his blood soaked hands. Inspecting his finely trimmed nails on his way out the door, he has the air of confidence. His men do not know the hole that he has backed himself into thanks to the mousy woman in the corner, and if they did, they would not have hesitated to kill her. Then he would have killed them.
Everything goes according to plan, down to the Tee, and for a split second James thinks maybe he will be saved.
But as he dances around the roof top of St. Bart's, lovely Bart's with it's little ordinary people inside, Moriarty seethes as he realizes that Sherlock has cheated.
A gun. How idiotic!
But even still, as he goads and mocks, he knows the truth. She'll do it because he's good. Good just like the ordinary people inside. Might as well just be one of them.
"No, you talk big. But you're ordinary. You're on the side of the angels." He says, eying him up.
"I maybe on the side of the angels, but don't think that for one second that I am one of them."
Idiot man, how dare he say that could be on the same level of purity as wonderful Molly?
Molly will save him, and Moriarty will be dead. Because she is an angel and only wants the good in people. He draws it out, as much as he possibly can, because really he doesn't want to die. He wants ten more minutes as Jim on Molly's couch, with the annoying tabby and all. He sees a future of her behind the storm ridden eyes of the man in front of him and feels rage that he can no longer contain. Because this idiot in front of him has wasted his godsend to be nothing more than a pawn. He'll get to see her become gray and wrinkled, but will fail to appreciate it at all. Just like all the ordinary people, Sherlock Holmes does not see the angel. He's seen the angel of man, held her tender in his arms, and did not taint her very being the same way Sherlock Holmes has. And for that he must suffer. It is with this thought that he pulls the trigger. Because he's won.
Sherlock Holmes has prayed to the angel he must atone his sins too.