So the Sherlock/Calvin and Hobbes fic is being written as we speak. But I took a little break to write this.
It was meant to just be a sweet Molliarty one-shot, then morphed into a dark!Molly fic which I think I'll write some more of.
Tell me what you think, I usually go for the more humourous stories so I'm not sure how good this is.
Enjoy!
Bxx
Chapter 1
Molly was bored.
Bored.
Bored.
Bored.
And it was all his fault.
He had left her and gone to intimidate some world leader.
Before Christmas!
Scowling, Molly carried on decorating the tree, trying to put the arrogant Mr Moriarty out of her mind.
He was ruining Christmas, and no one ruined Christmas for Molly.
Even during the years when her step mother was yelling for another drink and sneering at her, or her father was doing another round of treatment.
No one ruined her Christmas.
She would shrug it off and go up to her room, where she could imagine she was somewhere else.
Someone else.
And when they had forgotten to get Molly a present (which was every year) she would wrap up her toys in kitchen roll or newspaper and play with her dolls, pretending that they were alive and they cared.
Molly was good at pretending.
Now, as she was older, she could afford a bit more than newspaper and a hairclip.
But she was still alone.
"I think." Molly spoke to the empty flat.
Because Molly wasn't entirely sure she was alone.
She had Jim.
Or he had her.
She wasn't sure.
Molly couldn't call him her boyfriend, or lover, or partner.
But he was there.
Or at least he used to be.
"Arrogant arse!" Furious, she threw a delicate china angel at the wall, taking a twisted sort of pleasure from the way the angelic face smashed into hundreds of little pieces.
Bloody Jim.
After calming herself and sweeping up the debris, Molly decided that she would not let him ruin her Christmas.
So she left the cold flat and headed to work. It was her day off but she didn't care.
Work was one of the few places where she was happy.
Where she could pretend she was going home to a loving family, not a psychotic git who wouldn't even be there.
After she had paid the taxi driver and shivered in the cold night air, Molly headed inside Barts and down to the morgue.
But as she put on her lab coat and went to see what bodies she had tonight, a familiar voice stopped her.
"I was just about to text you."
Sherlock Holmes.
Another psychotic git. But infinitely more dangerous than Jim.
More dangerous than Jim because Jim knew the evil lurking inside her.
She was still acting for Sherlock.
The easiest way to stop the great detective looking too closely was to be simple.
Not a mystery.
The starry eyed girl who would do anything for her crush.
It was almost sweet how easily he believed it.
But Jim hadn't.
Molly let a cold sneer steal across her face before taking a deep breath and turning around, smiling breathlessly at the detective.
"Sherlock?"
The high pitched voice annoyed her no end, but she had to deal with it.
He'd see if she didn't.
"What can I do for you? A- anything? Coffee? Tea? Wait, you don't drink tea!"
She gave a nervous laugh, this was almost too easy.
Molly was good at pretending.