To buffyslaysedward.
"How fresh?"
"Just in. Avada Kedavra by the looks of it."
Sherlock carefully examined the body of the older man before making his conclusions.
"He's been under the Cruciatus curse done by an experienced wizard. Then killed. Around three o' clock last night, I'd say. But I'll wait for your professional opinion."
Molly shrugged and took her wand out of her bun. "I'd say the same thing."
Sherlock ran his hand through his hair, making his elegantly disheveled curls even more messy, a very thoughtful and distressed look on his face, as if he had been forced to make a life-changing decision.
"It's been awhile... Do you think it's him?" she asked, a worried look on her face.
He looked at her, eyes shining with determination. Without a warning he grabbed her arm and pulled her with him. He took them out of St. Mungo's morgue, Molly was a bit startled, but collected herself quickly. She steered Sherlock away from the lifts, where he had headed and pulled him to the employees' lockers where she pulled off her white hospital robe, replaced it with her casual blue one and grabbed her little purse, while Sherlock impatiently waited by the door, tapping his foot anxiously.
Having taken her belongings, she grabbed his hand and made her way back to the lifts to get to the ground floor. She noticed that Sherlock had pulled out his wand as well, which made her grip his hand only tighter.
Waiting the lift to move, Molly opened her mouth to say something, but Sherlock shook his head, ordering her to wait until they were alone and out of the hospital. Reaching the exit, they rushed out and apparated immediately.
Arriving at their destination Molly looked around, not recognizing the place. She had just held on to Sherlock's hand as strongly as she could.
They were in a forest, that seemed almost abandoned, but she could see a small cottage near the place they were standing. The ivy climbing up the walls had almost completely covered the house.
"What is this place?" Molly asked.
"My grandmother's cottage. Doesn't matter. What matters is that we're safe. Come." He lead her to the house, took a key from a broken flower pot and opened the squeaky door.
You could almost feel the silence and the undisturbed air that came from the inside. The two walked in, wands out and eyes watchful. Sherlock rised his and quietly said: "Homenum Revelio."
Nothing happened. The house was empty.
Molly could see Sherlock's posture visibly relax, but he still held his wand and didn't put it away. Molly stepped back, pulling the front door shut so they were inside. She didn't need to say anything, Sherlock pulled her into his embrace. Molly ran her fingers through his hair in a calming motion, supporting his head on her shoulder, so that his nose was tickling her neck.
"Are you sure it's him?" she asked.
Sherlock collected himself from his moment of weakness and shook his head not to deny, but to clear it.
"I am sure."
The woman caressed her thumb over his cheekbones. "What are we going to do?"
He sighed, taking her hand and leading her deeper inside the house. "We'll notify the Watsons, Mycroft, Lestrade and let them assemble the Order."
Sherlock cast the Patronus charm and the glowing blue light took the form of a large elegantly swimming otter, who floated once around Molly and then disappeared to deliver the message.
The woman sighed, sat down in the sofa in the bright living room and took off her shoes, so she could put her feet under herself. Then she patted next to her, a signal to Sherlock to sit beside her. He blinked and stood at his spot for a moment, but after getting his thoughts more-or-less lined up he followed her gesture, sitting down so that his head was in Molly's lap.
Sherlock closed his eyes as he felt her cool fingers track the lines of his face and run them through his hair in a relaxing way. He thought and thought about their situation, trying to come up with all the outcomes but he knew that with his enemy's cleverness, there will always be something he'd miss. Just like the last time.
He had been so close to defeating him completely. Hell he even thought he had! But the web of the spider had been too flexible and strong for him to catch and destroy it, so he had now resurrected like he'd feared, threatening his family and friends again.
Sherlock felt Molly press her lips to her forehead and something wet touched his cheek. He slowly opened his eyes and saw her silently crying, tears falling down her face.
She sadly smiled down at him, wiping the tears away. "Sorry."
He rose up so he was sitting and facing her now. Taking her face in his large hands, he said: "Don't cry, Molly. This will be over soon. I'll keep you safe."
She looked at her lap, avoiding his eyes. "I'm not worried about myself, Sherlock... I'm..."
He interrupted her by lifting her chin back up and claiming her mouth in a deep kiss. Molly's hands wrapped themselves around the man's neck and pulled him closer like she never wanted to let him go again. If a kiss could be sweet and tender and fierce and claiming at the same time, then that was it. He gently nipped at her lower lip while she closed her eyes, savouring the feeling of closeness. She supported her head against his, noses touching like they were sharing breaths.
Sherlock entwined her hair with his fingers, playing with their ends, feeling their silky softness. Molly placed one gentle kiss on his lips and hid her face on his neck, breathing in his musky scent.
After staying like that for a while, Sherlock rose and left the room, Molly following him with her eyes, missing his warm body already. The man returned in a minute, carrying a book with him.
"What's that?" she asked.
He forced a smile. "Take a look. I'm sure you'll find it interesting."
Molly took the book from him and before she could react and throw it away, she felt the familiar tug behind her navel.
"No! No! Sherlo-"
He watched her disappear, knowing that it could be the last time he saw her. Then he proceeded to build walls around his heart. What he was about to do needed a clear head and his feelings had to be kept at bay. His eyes were dry, head cool and thoughts full of one goal - to keep his loved ones safe. Even if it meant sending Molly away from his side.
He sneered and said the word that would start the fire: "Moriarty."
A second later there was a loud bang outside the house and an ear-deafening voice shouted the one question, which always made Sherlock cringe.
"Did you miss me?"
She was pulled from him, she couldn't do anything, only close her eyes. When she landed on a soft grass, she threw the book as far away from her as she could, curled up in fetal position and didn't look around. Her ears were deaf to the surrounding sounds, she only faintly heard someone calling her name.
A light hand touched her shoulder. "Molly! It's me, Mary. What happened, dear?"
Molly blinked her eyes open and threw her arms around her neck. The blond woman accepted it and patted her shoulder.
"Shh, darling. Let's get you inside." She helped Molly to rise and led her to the house that was standing next to the tiny spot of green grass on which Molly had landed with the portkey. Through her blurry vision she saw that they were at the Watsons' place. Three male figures were standing at the door of the brown small house where John and Mary currently lived.
Mycroft, Greg and John himself, who immediately rushed to his wife to check if everything was okay.
"Molly? Are you hurt?" He switched to his healer mode and looked her carefully over.
Molly shook her head and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her robe, which was now stained green.
"Let's get you inside. Come."
They went inside, followed by the older Holmes and the auror. Mary pushed Molly sitting in the living-room sofa where she could see that they had been planning. Piles of parchment covered the small table, all full of some scribbling.
Mycroft spoke for the first time: "The ministry is compromised. The Order can't be summoned and our only contact is Mrs. Hudson in Baker Street but she is under surveillance and can't reach anyone else. The Dark Lord's name cannot be named and I'm sure you're aware of the spell which notifies him of your exact location if you do, I have no doubt. We need to take him down as soon as we can or else we'll all be dead by tomorrow." He seemed sympathetic. "Sherlock knows it obviously and given your condition he has already taken action. As should we."
Molly could tell that he was especially agitated since she had never heard him speak so much at once.
She nodded, trying to be calm at all costs. "He sent me here with a portkey and I fear that he wants to face Mo-... him alone."
"Brave but foolish," Mycroft said.
"That is just ridiculous! For a man that smart he is really really daft!" John practically yelled. "We need to get to him now. Before he get's himself killed!"
Molly gasped and wrapped her hands around her stomach like she was in pain. "Please don't say that. Please don't."
John regretted his words at once. "I'm so sorry, Molly. I didn't mean to..."
Mary interfered. "Hush it now. Where did you go? Tell us so we could go to him."
Wiping her nose again Molly explained her and Mycroft nodded and said that he knew what she was talking about.
"Let's go then!" Lestrade exclaimed and the three men started walking outside. Molly tried to follow them but Mary stopped her by grabbing her arm.
"You're not going anywhere. Come with me."
She tried to protest but the other woman ignored them and took her to her bedroom where the baby Watson was peacefully sleeping in her cot. Molly's eyes took in the sleeping form and a tear escaped her eyes.
"Tell me, Molly. Does he know?" Mary asked her and took her hands in hers.
Molly shook her head.
Mary didn't say anything in reply just hugged her.
Molly tried to fight her hold. "I need to go with them. I have to be with him."
Mary just smiled bitterly. "Don't you dare! We need to keep my daughter safe and I cannot guarantee that I'll be able to manage on my own if the Death Eaters come."
She didn't say that it was okay, she didn't try to convince her that everything was going to be just fine. She gave Molly a work to do, gave her a task to focus on and told her that she was needed right here. And Molly was eternally grateful for that.
So she hugged her back and whispered in her ear: "Thank you, Mary."
"Not a problem, dear."
You could call it magic but Molly knew exactly the moment the men had returned.
She ran outside and the moment she saw him a fierce anger overtook her. So she went to him and slapped him hard across the cheek.
"If you ever do that again, I will murder you so you couldn't solve your case even yourself," she practically shouted at him.
"Oh I know."
Hearing his deep voice again was enough to push her into his arms, anger gone as fast as it had come. There was a long cut on his forehead but Sherlock ignored it, choosing rather to hold her beloved.
"It's over. For real this time," he said and smiled fondly and caressed her cheek to which she smiled back and leaned in. Sherlock took the cue and kissed her with all his joy and passion, pouring the words he didn't say out loud into his actions.
"I'll never let you go again. I promise."
"And I believe you this time..." She suddenly seemed nervous.
"What is it, Molly?" Worry crept into his voice.
She looked on the ground, avoiding his eyes. "...Because it wouldn't be just me then."
He was confused. "What do you mean?"
"Meaning, Sherlock, that soon there will be two of us who need to be with you. You can't just abandon us whenever you feel like it. You don'-" He silenced her by placing a finger on her lips.
"Two of you? What are you talking about?"
Molly put her hands on her abdomen and looked deep into his ocean eyes, which widened in understanding.
"You mean that...? I am...?"
She nodded, happy because he finally caught on.
Sherlock froze, mouth open, eyes not blinking, just staring at her. Approximately a full two minutes passed and Molly was beginning to feel very worried.
"Sherlock? Are y-?" He didn't let her finish again but crushed his lips against hers again, lifting her up the ground to spin her around in a victorious hug.
"I'm going to be a father..." He started panicking. "Me? A father? Molly I don't think I'll be a good father."
Now it was her turn to shut him up. She kissed his nose. "Of course you will be. Look at John and Mary's daughter for example. She loves you. I have no doubt that your own child will love you even more."
He looked up with his puppy eyes full of hope. "You think so?"
"I know so."
So Sherlock scooped her up bridal style to go into the house where his closest friends who were his family had gathered and announce the news like an overly exited child who just had gained a new toy.
The sadness and danger were behind them now. It was the start of a brighter future, there was no need to remember the old trouble. And so they forgot about the Dark Lord Moriarty as soon as Sherlock's forehead was healed, Mycroft had put on a clean robe and John had made his lecture to Sherlock on the topic of him being a selfish idiot. Everyone was smiling again, the darkness fled from the good news.
So James Moriarty became just a scary fairytale that aunt Mary occasionally told the children about. He wasn't mentioned outside that context and so the memory of his web and the shadow he cast over the world disappeared and only lived in a tale that the Holmes and the Watson children told on to their children who then told it to theirs until someone forgot it completely like he never had existed.
And it was for the good so that the bright light of the magical world could shine without darkness.