Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC.
The crisp cold air welcomed Molly when she stepped out of 221B. It was barely daybreak so there were not many people on the streets. "Fresh milk for the day!" The milkman exclaimed in a jovial manner. Molly smiled courteously. "Thank you." But she was stopped when trying to carry the milk back into the house.
"Pardon me, Miss but I did not recall seeing you in this neighbourhood before or else I would have noticed." The man questioned with a blush. "I'm a maid, just recently employed." She answered. Remembering that there were still many orders to fulfil, he replied hurriedly. "Well then, hopefully I would see you more often. Good day, Miss." The milkman tipped his cap towards her and ran off.
Molly and Holmes broke their fast quietly so the doctor filled up the silence with his mostly one-sided of conversation regarding the weather, progress of the investigations and politics. Watson might not be a consulting detective but he could clearly feel the slightly abnormal atmosphere yet unable to put his finger on it and it continued right up till breakfast ended.
After sending the duo off, Molly called out to Billy. "Do you know how I could contact Mycroft Holmes? It's urgent." The little boy thought about it for a while. "You had been very nice to me, Miss so I would tell you but if others asked, do not say it was Billy who told you so. Master Holmes did not have a good relationship with his brother. You could try your luck at the Diogenes Club but only gentlemen were allowed in."
"I would think of something, Billy. Thank you, you are an angel." Molly kissed his forehead and gave him a sweet.
Molly adjusted her moustache and outfit before walking up to the entrance of Diogenes Club and handed Holmes' calling card to the attendant. Molly explained in a low voice, "I'm on behalf of my master to pass an exceedingly important message to Mycroft Holmes." The man stared at Molly for so long, she thought that maybe her moustache was pasted upside down, before he went in with the card and said to her, "Wait here."
For what seemed like an eternity, the attendant finally came back and begrudgingly led the way for Molly. Inside were men sitting in groups or by themselves either reading the newspapers, smoking cigars, drinking brandy or talking. The British Government was found to be sitting alone at the far end of the club and reading The Guardian. Sensing someone standing in front of him, Mycroft Holmes lowered his newspaper. He merely raised his eyebrow at Molly's disguise and waved to the chair next to his then nodded at the attendant, dismissing him.
"Moriarty…he's not far away and the consulting detective is extremely close to danger right?" A flicker of anger lit up in the British Government's eyes. "If I really wanted to harm Sherlock Holmes, I would not have informed you, would I? I know you do not trust me but take my word for it when I say I love him very much and just like you, my only intention is to protect him. Look into my eyes and tell me if I'm lying, Mr. Holmes."
"You are a remarkable woman, Miss Hooper, that I would give you due credit." He leaned back into the chair comfortably. "Go on then, share your thoughts on how to deal with Moriarty which I assumed was the reason you came to me."
"Discredit Sherlock Holmes; let everyone believed he was a fraud, that the cases he solved were actually staged by him and throw him into jail. Holmes would be safe there with you watching over. Moriarty would never stand for someone else to destroy the consulting detective because only he could do it. For that, he would make a mistake and yours to capture. Sherlock Holmes would then return to society with his reputation intact after letting the world know of Moriarty's crimes that included his latest and unsuccessful attempt of ruining the consulting detective by framing him with false allegations."
"Pray tell how could you be so sure that Moriarty would err?" Mycroft Holmes probed cynically.
"He would, one way or another." Molly spoke with such certainty that the British Government decided to give her the benefit of doubt.
The same night Watson was called away to a home visit in Leicester where the patient was the doctor's captain when he was in the army so, "It was vital for me to go post-haste and I would expect to be back about a week later, Holmes, depending on his condition which based on the telegraph was not too good." The remaining residents in 221B were Molly and Holmes as Mrs Hudson also happened to be away, visiting her daughter and grandchildren in Bedfordshire.
She was impressed with the British Government's efficiency. Within three days, the consulting detective was accused as a fake. To prevent Watson from coming to Holmes' rescue, the press was suppressed for the time being. With the 'evidence' against him quickly piling up, it was clear to Holmes that it was just a matter of time Scotland Yard would arrest him. The world could well believe of what they wanted to foolishly believe so long he knew the truth and that was all it mattered, at least that was what he told himself.
Everything was going according to plan and it hurt Molly more than she could ever imagine because she knew very well it was hurting him even though the man pretended otherwise, like nothing was wrong. Molly was essentially gambling on Holmes' life so if things went wrongly, his demise would be ensured and that knowledge kept her awake throughout the nights.
Insomnia was making Molly edgy so she walked out of her room, wanting to take a respite from the oppressing situation but stopped herself when Molly found the consulting detective staring into space in an almost wistful manner that strangely reminded her of Peter Pan.
"I once…saw a friend of mine with that same expression on his face. He looked sad…"
"Miss Hooper." Holmes tried to interrupt her but Molly disregarded his warning tone and pushed on.
"You looked sad." The consulting detective then turned to her, daring Molly to continue. "If you need anything, anything at all, all you have to do is ask."
"I appreciate your kind gesture, Miss Hooper but I have no need for anything." Even at this stage Holmes was still so stubborn and Molly was frustrated but she did saw it coming. "Of course. Good night then, Mr Holmes."
She was already in her night clothes, preparing for bed no matter how futile in getting any sleep. "I apologized for my rude behaviour earlier on, Miss Hooper. You were right, I am far from well. I feared that my reputation had been tarnished."
The sense of déjà vu overwhelmed Molly as she turned around to better see Holmes in the fairly dark room. "What do you need?"
"You." Then the consulting detective shall have what he asked for.
Molly closed the distance between them in three steps and crashed her lips to his. She poured out all her emotions and translated them into actions. Neither disguised the abandonment, urgency and desperation found in their body languages where instead they embraced the presence, not willing to be swallowed up by it. Moments later, they were both naked and walked back to the bed.
Panting and perspiring, Molly looked right into Holmes' eyes when he entered her. "I wanted you from the moment I saw you." She confessed. "You fascinated me when I first laid my eyes on you for I could not deduce anything about you." He admitted. The dam broke loose and during the process, Molly and Holmes were successful in finding themselves and each other. They were finally complete.
It was dawn when a succession of knocks was sounded. On her right, Holmes was sleeping soundly which was rare for the consulting detective so Molly got up from the bed as quietly as possible in hopes of him getting more rest since it was still early and went to answer the door.
It was Greg except this version of him had sideburns. Massive sideburns. If the situation was not serious, Molly would have laugh out loud on the spot. "Is Sherlock Holmes in residence? I am Detective Inspector Lestrade of the Scotland Yard." He introduced himself reluctantly.
"You require of my presence to follow you back to Scotland Yard for further questioning, Lestrade?" Out of nowhere, Holmes appeared fully dressed and asked calmly as he had expected for this day to come. Lestrade gravely nodded and unwillingly signaled to his subordinates to take the consulting detective away but chose not to handcuff him out of respect then Holmes left with them without a backward glance.
Molly looked down at the doorstep and frowned when she realized that the milk had yet to be delivered.
Unlike Baker Street, it was not a high class residential district. Molly pushed open the tattered door and walked up the stairs where each step creaked under her weight. The room was sparsely furnished and a man sat on a well-worn chair, whistling and looking out of the broken window, waiting for someone.
"You never told me of your name and I wondered how to address you." Molly sat on the only other available chair. "Perhaps I should call you Mr Moriarty, Jim Moriarty to be exact."
Moriarty snickered. "Trying to frame me by setting up Sherlock Holmes? How very twisted of you, Miss and I applauded you for it. But that was where you were wrong about ME!" His chair was knocked down to the floor and Moriarty came right up to Molly's face.
"I could destroy Holmes' career and reputation at any given time but where's the fun in that? No, no, no. I am far more interested to ruin him in a more personal level. I promised that one day I would burn the heart out of him and then you came. Nothing stood out about you yet you were able to grab Holmes' attention. You were good, better than Miss Adler, I must say. The chink in his armor and you arrived at my doorstep." Moriarty began to walk in circles around the room.
"You thought sending Watson and that landlady away would keep them safe, not to mention dear Holmes in jail right now. That was your second mistake; nowhere is ever safe from me. Let's make this game a little bit more interesting, shall we? You have to kill yourself or else Watson, Mrs Hudson and of course Holmes would die. And the best part of it all is that you have to do it in front of him. Don't worry; I assisted in making Holmes' escape from his cell easier for he would escape."
Moriarty checked his pocket watch. "You have two hours before they all dropped dead like flies. Also, no one could catch me when I'm already dead. Good day, Miss." He drew out a gun, placed it into his mouth and fired. Molly recoiled and blood spluttered everywhere in the room. She sat back on the chair to gather her thoughts quickly.
The view from the rooftop of St. Bart's in Victorian times was definitely different from the 21st century but just as incredible. People did look like ants from up here. Molly thought it would be befitting to end everything at the same venue. She left a note to Holmes in 221B, asking him to come here. Molly guessed he would go straight there after his jail escape and she was proven right. Holmes walked slowly towards the ledge where Molly stood.
"Stop. Here would do, Mr Holmes." For once, the consulting detective did as he was told.
"I'm…Moriarty. I faked my amnesia so I could stay close to you. I planned everything, from stopping in front of your carriage right up to your arrest. I wanted to destroy you once and for all and I did it. The great consulting detective had become both a fake and a fugitive. How ironic. Your brother was right about me, you should never have trusted me."
Molly pointed to her tears cascading down her cheeks. "See? They are tears of joy that I finally had defeated you! With my dream been achieved, there is nothing left for me here anymore. Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes." She fell backwards and Holmes anticipated her move, leaped forward and managed to grab Molly's hand while the rest of her body dangled in the air. "Let go of my hand, Sherlock. You need to let me go!"
The consulting detective's face was flushed from the exertion and veins from his forehead were becoming visible. "No, Molly." Trust him to call her name only when she was about to die but better late than never. "I love you. I really do, Sherlock." She murmured, not sure if he could hear it. Molly then hardened her heart and resolutely pulled her hand out of his grip.
She now understood that history would forever repeat itself if we did not learn from our previous mistakes. Molly's mistake was falling in love with the consulting detective therefore the outcome would never change. If that was the case then it was one mistake she would never regret and always commit. Molly would gladly let Sherlock Holmes be the death of her.
Author's note: I would try to explain everything in the end of this story (sort of) *running away cowardly*
**To DD, not sure if you remembered me but you left two reviews before in 'Not Quite A Couple' and I'm so happy that you came back :D Hope you would not hate me after reading this chapter...