I don't own anything except for my twisted mind but thanks for Moffat, Gatiss and Co to provide me with such wonderful material to obsess over.
Did you miss me? Did you miss me?
When Molly saw the little gimmick invade the ever-on TV at Bart's, she was in the middle of doing herself a cup of tea. Of course, probably as most of British people assisting to the drama, her heart lurched and her grip on her boiling cup of tea tightened. She swore as the too hot temperature made her release the mug and it fell to the ground. She kept muttering curses as she knelt down to scoop the shards of ceramic and clean the mess. This was obviously what every ordinary citizen would have done in the circumstances. However, what was the least of all what any other common people would have done was the following.
"So, did you?" asked an Irish tinted voice behind her, the words taking an almost sing-songy melody to them.
There, most people would have frozen in fright and shock, would have tried to flee or at least broken into a cold sweat. Molly Hooper, on the other hand, flipped her hair on the side as she turned her face toward the intruder, shooting him an aggravated look before resuming her task of removing the shards from the floor.
"Jim, don't be smart." She admonished in a calm voice. She got up and discarded the pieces of her mug in the trash bin. And then, she had the most genuine and happiest smile in her face as she went to take the man in her arms. "Of course, silly, I missed you!"
At that, the demeanour of the most fashionable psychopath changed drastically. A large smile painted on his face, he fully embraced the small woman in front of him, resting his head on the top of hers. Well, he wasn't as tall as one Consulting Detective, but it didn't matter as the pathologist was on the small side of scale and that she had flat pumps as she had to stay several hours on stand. Jim let his psychopathic persona melt away for a few minutes for a more tender, if really tiny, part of him. Molly had always been the one constant in his life and to see that she had forgiven him was like lifting an excruciating stone from his little fragile dark heart. However, they couldn't stay like this. It wouldn't do to have people walk in on them as they surely wouldn't understand how Sherlock Holmes' staunchest supporter would be in the arms of his arch enemy.
Somewhat awkwardly, they disengaged from the hug. Moriarty's colder side took over as evidenced by the way he surveyed his brand new Westwood suit. On the other hand, Molly was composed but couldn't repress a smile as she shot a glance at the TV.
"Thank you." She said quietly, her eyes catching those of the man in front of her. "A little bit dramatic but I guess quite effective."
"Everything for my little sis, of course." Said Jim sweetly. "Do you know on which mission he was sent on?" he asked, curiosity prevailing.
"No, just that he would be dead in 6 months. What was it?" she asked, a sense of dread finally catching up with her. Jim was a lot of things but a fool, surely not. She knew that for him to actually reach out physically to her, he'd need to have a good reason. And for a reason to be good for a psychopath like him, it had to be dire indeed.
"Eastern Europe. Her playground, not mine." Answered Jim serious as he never was.
At those words, Molly Hooper blanched. Another stone piled on her heart as the carefully constructed wall around the darkest part of her mind started grumbling. No, this couldn't be. They'd always been careful, she and Jim. Always managed to stay out of her radar. Even when playing at consulting criminal, Jim had always avoided crossing path with her. And as for herself, well she was a pathologist with a little ripper gig on the side, not something that would interest the criminal mastermind, whom they'd been hiding from for almost all of their lives. And finally, it clicked inside her head. Of course, how foolish Sherlock had been. But mostly, how foolish she had been. Could she have anticipated what would happen when she'd the littlest at all nudged Mary toward John? Once again, she blanched and her large eyes became pensive.
"It's Magnussen, isn't it? All that time, he was in contact with her. Am I right?" Once the first piece had slotted in the right place, everything of the hidden ropes had become visible. Of course. Magnussen had never been the unique player in this game. He'd just been the perfect puppet for a master that was even more intelligent, cunning and ruthless than she and her brother were.
As Molly was deep in thoughts, probably having everything from the past years click in place, Jim finally broke from his unnatural stillness. A dangerous and crazy glint came to his eyes. He loved his sister, truly. Apart from their father, she'd been the one thing that had tethered him to sanity, it seemed. And now, because of her abnormal sentimentality concerning a few people – and yes, mostly because of Sherlock, a man he'd loathed since the moment he saw his sister blush at his name – they might be discovered. So, as every time he felt an anger that he wasn't that great at managing, he returned to his dramatic and unhinged ways, his voice sing-songing words at the strangest times.
"Yes, sis. Mommy has come back for us! And all of this, thanks to your ever so-generous heart!"