[YAY, THE PROLOGUE'S BACK UP]
Updated AU; Okay, so, with the release of the new series, I think it's safe to say that this story is now an AU, wherein Molly (and the other characters, ofc) follow a very different route from canon. It was started before the new series, obviously, so some characters might not match up to their interpretations in the show, no matter how brilliant they were in it, *cough*Irene*cough*, sorry!
Anyway, I hope you like it, and don't forget to review :)
Onwards!
Innocence.
Prologue.
He's there. He's always there.
The girl stands, cold and wet from the rain, peering through the darkness to try and get a good look at him. Her hair sticks to her forehead and the concrete floor digs into her bare feet as she squints and stares.
But of course, it's him. It's always him.
More out of hope than anything else, she takes a step forward - just to be sure. And then she sees him clearly.
The grey sheets of rain don't seem to affect him; he's standing, arms at his sides and eyes narrowed, his hair ever perfect and his clean-cut suit pristine. The darkness seems to stick to him as if it were actually of some substance - it pours in around his face, trying to hide his dark hair and pale face, shadows falling across his cheekbones. It clings to him as if it were a part of him. Thin wisps of mist pool around his feet, looking like smoke and giving him a look that's almost supernatural. Taking his eyes away from the girl for a moment, he glances to his shoulder and brushes an invisible mark off his jacket. Then, he turns back to her and he smiles - that cruel, madman's smirk she can't seem to get out of her head, his dark eyes glittering in the dim moonlight with something uncomfortably close to insanity. Terrifying, and yet so familiar.
Not for the first time, the girl turns and runs.
As always, he follows straight away, his smirk widening into a grin as he strides behind her.
Her thin dress billows around her as she runs, her hair peeling from her face and blowing behind her. She runs so hard, her breathing rugged and heavy and her own blood pounding in her ears, as her feet start to bleed from running on uneven ground without shoes. She has to escape.
She dares to look behind her, hoping that for once, she's lost him. But he's there. He's always there.
And then he speaks.
His voice is like caramel; soft, smooth and almost comforting, persuading her to stop. But the girl knows better. There's venom behind his words - hidden poison threatening to strike if ever she slows down.
"Molly," he seems to sing, "you don't have to run from me."
But she does, she knows she has to, and so she keeps running, trying desperately to get away. But her energy is failing and her breaths are shallow - the wind is biting at her skin, it's unforgiving cold fighting with the unbearable heat coursing through her veins as she runs. Tears stream from her stinging eyes - each raindrop feels like a bullet on her bare skin. Her legs begin to slow inadvertently, and the man behind her laughs, tainted with evil and poison, his mask slipping for just a second, revealing the man underneath. He hasn't even broken a sweat.
"You can't run forever, Molly," he says, the pitch of his voice dropping, "I'll always be right behind you."
The girl runs on, now sobbing amongst her shallow breaths, and she knows he's right. She can't run forever - she'll have to stop at some point. And he'll be there. He's always there.
She can hear his footsteps behind her; echoing like thunder across the empty street. Mist rolls across the floor around her, it's thin, wispy tendrils crawling up her ankles, coaxing her, trying to persuade her to stop. They're like tree roots, each another obstacle, trying to trip her up.
The mist is thickening now, her breath shorter than ever. She can't see the floor, but she keeps going anyway, each step a step into the unknown. Her chest heaves, each frantic breath burns her throat like acid. But she has to keep running – he's still behind her, she can hear him breathing. He can't catch her. She has to escape.
There's a crack in the floor. She falls.
Her knees connect with the pavement with a loud crack, and she can feel the grazes and bruises already. She puts her hands out to stop her face hitting the floor, and they take the full force of the fall. Her hands, feet and knees are cut and bleeding and she's cold and wet, shivering in the mist and rain. She kneels up and buries her face in her hands, sobbing so hard her whole body shakes. She daren't look behind her, for fear of what she knows is there.
He hums - the girl hears him. It's almost sympathetic, almost comforting. The girl feels his jacket fall around her shoulders; it's dry, but colder than the air around her, as if carved from dry ice. She freezes when it touches her, she can't move her legs as much as she wants to escape, and fear knocks the breath out of her again.
She lowers her hands and he's there, kneeling in front of her, still dry. His dark eyes seem as endless as the night above them, a window to his true self - empty and dark, with no space for anyone else. His marble face softens as he looks at her, the only trace of his true self the twisted smirk spreading across his face like water.
"Silly Molly," he croons, pushing her hair from her face. She wants to flinch away but she can't, eyes wide as he smiles at her in a way that makes her stomach churn. The velvet mask on his voice slips once more, and his words hit the girl right in her heart, cold, unfeeling, evil.
"I was always going to catch you. It was just a matter of when."
He puts his arms around her and the girl wants to scream, but she can't. She's trapped between his icy arms, held in his possessive embrace. She just stares ahead as he whispers in her ear; she can practically hear the grin in his voice.
"Nobody escapes from James Moriarty."
Molly Hooper awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and her breathing ragged and shallow.
It only began to slow when she heard the cat purring at the foot of her bed.
It was just another dream; he wasn't here. She was alone. Safe.
There were police outside, there always was - they would protect her, they had promised. They were her safety net – a thin web of , always watching, waiting for him to come back to her.
There was a creak from another room – probably the wind, maybe the cat trying to get out of the room, but it was enough to make Molly's heart rate rocket again, her breathing becoming just as laboured as before. She tried to calm down, maybe even get back to sleep, trying to convince herself of what her rational brain knew to be true.
He couldn't get to her, he couldn't hurt her. Not like before.
And yet, the thought of her ex-boyfriend's face scared Molly more than anything else in the world.