Hey wow! Chapter two! So stoked – so excited. I really do hope you enjoy my writing style and the story. It's so much fun to receive emails and know that my fanfic is appreciated Anywho, enjoy!
"Sherlock, why was Molly there?"
John sat across from his friend, a mug of tea in his hand. Sherlock didn't answer. His hands were folded as if he were in prayer and pressed up against his lips. His eyes were blank, crystal blue and glassy. John sighed, muttering to himself, "And here we go, with the mind palace. Bloody geniuses with their mind palaces…"
John sat and sipped his tea, waiting. Any minute now-
"Moriarty has placed spies on us – he's placed people to watch our every move." Sherlock burst out, lowering his hands. John blinked at him.
"Sherlock, Moriarty is dead. You saw him blow his brains out, right there in front of you."
"I'm not the only one that can, shall we say, play dead."
John stared at him, baffled. "So the criminal mastermind that almost killed me and, for that matter, did in a sense, kill you, is still running loose?"
"He would have had to go into hiding. His name was cleared, but I returned. He's believed to be dead, and he's dangerous. He can't just reappear."
"I really don't know what to do with this information." John stated simply. "Care to go for a walk? Oh, that's a stupid question."
"Stupid indeed."
"I'll be back then."
John strode out the door, shoving his mobile into his pocket and depositing his cup in the kitchen. Sherlock returned to his thoughts, curling into more of a ball and zoning out.
John turned left from 221B, walking down towards Bart's Hospital. He didn't really mean to, but ended up passing right by. He stopped and stared at the doors for a moment.
"John?" A voice said. He turned at the sound of his name.
"Lestrade! What are you doing down here?"
"We were going to deliver the body, actually, to Molly soon. I was just going to chat with her beforehand and make sure things are all good."
John nodded, thinking. "Shall I come? Pop in and say hi to Molly as well? I was wanting to ask her something earlier at the scene – rather, ask why she was there in the first place."
Lestrade nodded and they pushed the doors open into the cold, sterile hospital that always gave John the chills.
They entered the morgue, John lightly rapping his knuckles on the door. Molly spun around, a long black bag in her hands. She gave a quick smile before turning back to look at the slab in front of her.
"Hello! Did – did you need something?"
"Just dropping by. Everything ready for our delivery today? It could come late, but I –"
"Yes yes, setting up now actually." She unzipped the bag and laid it flat on the slab, smiling for effect. Lestrade looked pointedly at John.
"Oh, yes! Right; so Molly, I was just wondering why in the world you were at the scene this morning?"
Molly, with nothing left to occupy her, twiddled with her hair. "I – well Greg sent me to go grab you or Sherlock or, both I suppose and bring you there. It wasn't far from 221B, so…"
"You could have phoned!"
Molly turned a shade of pink and Lestrade laughed. He leaned over and whispered in John's ear.
"I'm trying to possibly set her up. It annoys her beyond all reason and is the funniest thing I've seen besides Sherlock drunk."
John smirked and let out a chuckle of his own. Molly frowned, crossing her arms. "Really now, you two are like children. It's not because of – what Greg just told you."
"So why did you go?"
Molly went from pink to red in the cheeks. John laughed harder, resulting in a smack on the arm.
"Alright, yes I know. You were there for important business."
"Is that what you consider business now? Sherlock?" Lestrade muttered to him. John bit back another giggle spell.
"Well Molly, it's been lovely, but I've got to dash." Lestrade said, smiling at the red head before pushing out of the morgue. Molly stared at John expectantly.
"Oh! Oh jeez, I'm probably getting in your way. I'll just be on my way as well-"
"Oh no! No, I've got nothing right now. I mean unless you have to go!" she answered quickly. John smiled.
"That's good, good. I was just out for a stroll is all." He took a breath. "Is Lestrade really trying to set you up with Sherlock Holmes?"
Molly sighed deeply. "Yes. And because it's Sherlock, he's oblivious and rude."
John nodded. "You get used to it, if you practically live with the bloody guy."
Molly giggled. "You forget I did live with him. Oh no, that sounds – I didn't mean it like that I just…" she put a hand to her forehead. "Perhaps you should go, before I make an even bigger fool of myself."
John chuckled and waved, departing. Molly breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God those two were gone.
"Oh I thought they'd never leave."
Molly froze, every nerve in her body going numb. That voice – it was unmistakable. An arm wrapped around her shoulder in a side embrace.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"Moriarty." Her voice was quiet and squeaky. Moriarty laughed.
"I think Jim will do, don't you? Yes, Jim and Molly, those were the good days." He spun her so that they were facing each other. Molly held his stare, her heart threatening to stop altogether.
"So how's it going, Miss Molly? Doing well? Learning a lot?"
Molly nodded. Moriarty gave a wide smile.
"Oh come now, we're friends, you can talk to me." His hand gripped her shoulder like a vice. "Would you like to share with me how exactly," he squeezed her harder on the word. "How it's going, or would you like me to call Sherlock myself?"
Molly's mouth remained shut tightly. Moriarty sighed loudly.
"Always so stubborn, Miss Molly. Golly golly, Miss Molly, do you have good reception in this nice workspace of yours? May I see your phone?"
Molly didn't move an inch. Moriarty pouted.
"It's too bad. Although, persuading you is always so much more fun."
Moriarty clamped a hand over Molly's mouth just as a scream ripped from her throat. No one heard. Her captor grinned, shoving her against the wall.
"The pretty ones are always so defiant. Pity. Will you be quiet for your dear Jim?" he started to remove his hand, and Molly waited. As soon as his hand was at his side, she opened her mouth to cry out.
But Moriarty did something more terrifying than holding her captive. He pressed his lips to hers, silencing her completely. She stood stock still against the wall, grimacing and shutting her eyes as Moriarty explored her mouth and her body. He pulled away smiling.
"Pity indeed. Perhaps you'll cooperate now? I could always use my third method of persuasion –" he pulled the gun from his coat pocket.
"I'll talk." Molly said, closing her eyes tight and hanging her head.
"Good girl."