Sorry that I took a long time to update, been away! Hope you enjoy it...
Chapter 2
The warmth that was being emitted by Sherlock became almost unbearable. "You're welcome." She smiled weakly at him, taking a few small paces back, before turning her back to him and scampering off to her room. She shut the door and leaned against it, allowing one small tear to free itself from her eye.
Sherlock was rooted to the spot. He thought Molly would do something. He didn't know what, but it would have been something. Now he was just stood there, staring into nothing, alone.
He sat on the couch and steepled his hands under his chin and thought. He thought about what had just happened with Molly, what it meant, what she might be thinking. It was starting to distract him from developing his plan to break the web that Moriarty had so intricately spun. He pushed these... feelings to the back of his head and tried to concentrate.
...
Sherlock was up early and walking down the cool, crisp streets of London. He knew a particularly good cafe where he could buy himself and Molly some breakfast. This would be his last display of his appreciation for her help.
Molly stirred slightly, the light from the window seeping into her bedroom. She flung her legs over the side of the bed and breathed in sharply as her skin came into contact with the cold wood. She fumbled her half unconscious body into the bathroom, where she showered reluctantly.
She let the cool refreshing water cascade over her thin frame, before stepping out and roughly towel drying her hair. She strung it up loosely in a bun and wandered into the kitchen to make herself some coffee. It only registered to her that Sherlock wasn't present when she poured a second cup.
"Sherlock?" she called out into the empty apartment. A nagging voice started to grow louder in her head. He was just using you. Did you really think he might change? For you? You really are stupid. He doesn't care. He will never care. She tried desperately to shake the unwelcome thoughts from her head, but it was to no avail.
She sighed heavily and leant over the sink, dropping her head and inhaling deeply though her nose. Why do I always trust the wrong people? The steam rose from her cup and started to moisten her cheek with the vapour.
"Am I disturbing you?" Sherlock asked from the doorway.
Molly turned around to face him, her smile widening every second.
"I brought breakfast," Sherlock held up the brown paper bag triumphantly.
"That's very kind of you. I can't stay though; I have work in half an hour." Molly felt a small pang of guilt strike her inside as she said the words.
She joined Sherlock in the front room with their coffees, and ate a bacon sandwich. She gave him a quick smile before disappearing.
...
The morgue was quite for a Tuesday morning, she had logged the body that had been left over from the previous night, and had filed all of the paperwork away. She at her desk and tapped her pen repeatedly on her temple.
"Your hospital really needs to work on its security," came an alluring voice from the shadows.
Molly froze where she was, placing the pen slowly on the desk before spinning round to face the man she had feared would show up.
"J-Jim, what are you d-doing here? You were dead?!" Molly couldn't stop shaking.
"I know honey, but I'm not now. And I'm here to let you into a little secret." A menacing grin spread itself over Moriarty face, illuminating the psychopath within.
Molly gulped but didn't look away. Her eyes were almost glued to his, not daring to move; as if one flicker of fear would make him attack.
"You should stay away from Sherlock, Molly dear. He isn't good for you. He will use you. He will take what he wants and sooner or later," his voice sang the last words, as if mocking her, "he will leave you."
Molly tried to protest, but was cut off by his next statement.
"Put it this way: if you don't leave him, then I will find him. And I will stay true to my word Molly. I will burn him." He giggled a little at himself, as if amused by his thoughts, before sauntering out of the morgue.
"Choose wisely, Molly!" he called after her, before the door shut and the lab was plunged into a deafening silence, the tension unbearable.
...
Molly returned to her flat to find it in a mess; paper all over the floor, several liquid dripping off the kitchen surfaces, and various items of clothing flung over the furniture.
"Sherlock!" Molly screamed.
"Yes?" he appeared from behind the armchair.
"What. Is. This?" She punctuated every word with a new breath.
"It's not going to be permanent, Molly. I'm just running a few experiments, that's all. I should be-"
"I don't care what you are doing Sherlock. But this is my apartment, not yours. You are to respect my house and keep it the way you found it. Now, clean this up!" she turned boldly and walked to her room, Sherlock's confused gaze following her.
She shut the door behind her, a little louder than the should have, and exhaled.
She went to grab a comfortable pair of trousers when a figure caught her attention. She went to scream but her throat was dry.
A deep grumble of a laugh came from the corner of her room, and something was twisted around their hands. Molly couldn't move; she was too scared to.
"Jim did warn you. I guess you didn't listen..."
Thanks for reading the next chapter, sorry for the long wait! Next chapter up in a week, reply if you want and let me know what you think! Much love xo
AN: If you want me to write a fan story about you, or around a story idea that you have in mind, message me! And I will do it J