Disclaimer: I own nothing! I claim nothing! I'm just borrowing the characters for my own pleasure and the pleasure of whoever reads this!

"I refuse." Molly said, glaring at the man in front of her, who had, to put it plainly, abducted her. Of course, even if she did report it, nothing would happen. After all, when the British government kidnaps someone, normal law enforcement tend to turn a blind eye.

Mycroft sat across from her, sipping from a tea glass. He had offered her some, but she was disinclined to accept, for obvious reasons. It was all rather pompous, in her opinion.

"You surprise me Miss Hooper. I didn't take you for a cold woman."

Molly narrowed her eyes at him. "And I don't see why you constantly butt into your brother's business." Even though she had been the one to mention him, her throat suddenly grew tight. The last time she had seen Sherlock had been a month ago, after seeing him with that disgusting drug in his hands. She forced her heart to harden. She could not allow him to trample on her any more than he already had.

Mycroft didn't say anything during her own mental argument. Molly knew he was watching her, deducing her just as his brother did so many times before. She held her head high, almost daring him to speak his findings.

"Three months, Miss Hooper."

The time confused her. Molly's eyebrows scrunched together. "Three months?" She asked warily.

"If Sherlock does not stop the course he is currently on, he will be dead in three months." Mycroft clarified, his face scarily blank in a way that meant this mattered to him a hell of a lot more than he would ever be willing to show.

Molly wasn't sure which part struck her more fiercely, his words, or his expression.

She swallowed, looking down. She had to close her eyes. "Then he's killing himself, Mr. Holmes. It's his choice. I didn't make him do anything." Even as she said it, she felt responsible for everything. Maybe if she had done something differently... maybe if she hadn't gotten scared when he kissed her... maybe if she had gone to him earlier... but no. There was no place for maybe's here. She saw him with that damned drug in his hands. She didn't do that.

"I think you'll find, Miss Hooper, that even you don't believe it. This is at least partially because of your rejection of him."

Molly jerked her head up. He might as well have slapped her with his words. "I didn't - "

"No, Miss Hooper, you didn't. You didn't do several things. Including wait."

Mycroft's hand brushed over a small button on top of his desk. It was well disguised. Until he pointed it out by using it, she hadn't known it was there. It raised a small television screen from inside the desk.

"Watch these, Miss Hooper. I promise, they have not been edited."

Molly looked towards the screen. It was his flat. She recognized it well. The camera actually had a good angle. She thought about asking why he had cameras in 221B in the first place, and what else he had seen - memories of some of their activities flashed in her mind. They would have been visible here - but then he came into view.

Sherlock, in his usual - well, it used to be usual... She didn't know what he wore now - loose fitting clothes he wore when he was lounging. She recognized the outfit well. He was wearing it the last time she went to his flat. When she ran away from him in disgust. In shame.

She swallowed as he went to his chimney, and removed one of the bricks. She almost asked what it was, until he pulled out a little vial, a spoon and the syringe. Molly pursed her lips. He sat down on the couch, laid the items out in front of him, and sat there, staring at them.

"What -"

"Patience, Miss Hooper."

She shut her mouth and watched. The screen fast forwarded, but according to the time signature, three hours passed in which Sherlock simply stared at the items. Then, he picked them up, and walked out of the camera's viewing, into what she knew to be the kitchen.

A second camera's view came on. It had the door way in view, and him, standing in front of the table. He was back to staring at the items. He looked almost... lost.

And then, resolute. He picked up the vial, and his hand hovered for just a second away from his body.

She heard her own voice seconds before she came into view. It was strange, watching it.

Her own words were the slap in the face this time.

"You bastard. You horrible man. Stay away from me Sherlock." The quality was perfect. She could hear her own heart breaking with disappointment and disgust at his actions. Only... he hadn't done anything.

That left a big sinking feeling in her stomach.

She watched as he prepared and injected the heroin before stumbling back to the living room, leaving the used needle on the kitchen counter.

The camera switched again in time to watch him collapse onto the couch. He turned in on himself, facing the cushions. The camera paused, and Molly looked up at Mycroft.

She swallowed. "He wasn't going to... before I came. Was he?" she asked softly.

"No. He was throwing it away, if his actions were read correctly." He didn't need to say that he had read them correctly. Molly had seen the resolute set of his jaw before she came, and the pain as she left. The sense that, in that moment, he had given up... and then hit up.

She swallowed again. "Why didn't he come to me? Explain things?" She asked. She thought she already knew the answer.

"If my sources are correct, Miss Hooper, he didn't come because you, I believe the term is, safe worded, out of the relationship. He was waiting for you, because he was under the impression that he had to earn your... favor, shall we say."

Molly felt sick. She knew she had paled considerably since watching that video. His words were true. She knew it. She had panicked when he kissed her. It had terrified her, how much emotion he had put into the gesture, emotions she was sure he would never feel for her, no matter what happened behind closed doors. She was just a means to an end.

"Since you left, he has been in an almost constant state of intoxication, Miss Hooper." Mycroft continued, after he deemed a long enough silence had passed in which she could think. "He is, it seems, trying his best to forget you. It's not working, of course, and he increases his doses when his mind slips up. You realize, I'm sure, where this will lead."

Molly nodded. She had seen it before. An overdose. They weren't pretty by any means.

Oh God, what have I done?

Molly stood quickly, and gathered her purse.

"Going somewhere, Miss Hooper?" He asked stoically.

"You know exactly where I'm going."

"One more thing, Miss Hooper."

"What?" She paused, looking half over her shoulder, still heading for the door.

"Don't cause him to enter this sort of state again. I won't be nearly as hospitable."

The threat was clear in his words. Molly didn't respond. She just headed for the door. No one stopped her.

I have two alternate routes this story can go from here. I don't know which one I'm using yet. Might post both. We'll see. Either way, there is one part left :3

Thank you, readers and reviewers of the last two pieces, and of this one.

And thank you to the best beta a girl could ask for, Cumberburch :)

Until Next Time! :*