a/n: I never leave a note up top, but this chapter deals with a touchy subject, and while this is Moriarty for godness sake and all rules should be off the table I just hope you all don't hate me. Carry on.

Day Seven

Jim watched her prepare for work in the morning, as he did every morning, with a pressing look etched into his features. He was fighting an inner battle with himself whether or not to warn her about today's arrival at the morgue. While Molly Hooper was well aware of what he did and oddly enough supported him in her own way; she still had…reservations. He couldn't fault her for that, even if his innermost-self wanted to.

She hadn't been bad all her life after all, for fucks sake, he still wasn't sure how bad she was; but he could sense the dark looming inside of her and he had spent a good amount of time drawing it up to the surface. It would be such a pity to watch it sink back down again.

He smirked at the last thought.

"Everything all right, boss? You seem a bit…off this morning," Moran questioned while turning on the kettle.

Jim said nothing. He only sat and watched with his elbows on his knees and his fingertips pressed together in a peak against his pursed lips.

Sebastian sighed after taking a long drag from his cigarette. "She asked about you, you know? How you were and all, why you have me followin' her around."

Jim's eyes slowly closed and when they opened they were narrowing on the tall sandy blonde in the corner of the room.

"Wasn't very gentle with me either…but you know that."

Jim stood, the back of the chair scraping across the wood as he went and his shoes clacking. He stopped in front of Moran and removed the cigarette from his lips, swiftly bringing it down with the lit end upon the man's arm. It made a faint hiss and the smell of burnt hair and flesh flared up beneath their noses. Sebastian flinched, just barely, but didn't make a sound.

"I believe I asked you once before to refrain from your disgusting habit in the flat, the smoke sinks into my clothes," Jim said flatly with a small head tilt. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, you have work to do."

"You could've asked nicely," Sebastian sneered.

"I did, the first time," Jim growled returning to his seat in front of the monitors. "Go on, off you pop," his tone cheery now as he jerked his thumb toward the door.

He would tell her, not completely, she still needed to have that look of surprise after all, but he would give her a slight warning. He'd be paying her a visit soon enough and he didn't want his Molly-bear upset with him.

His fingers grazed over the letters as he opened up a new message box, slowly beginning to type out the letters one by one. He deleted them quickly and exited to the home screen. Why bother with a trifling text when he can have the pleasure of hearing her voice. Yes, he preferred the easy mode of communication, simple and emotionless, but for this he wanted her to be able to hear him.

She picked up on the second ring; such an eager little thing, how adorable, he thought to himself.

"Jim? Is everything all right? Moran is looming outside my building rather early; it's not like you to call."

Yes, adorable, she had been worried something was wrong. "Mornin' love." The words fell from his lips in a thick Irish drawl. "Nothing is the matter, pet; sent him away early is all. Got tired of him being around."

She sighed a breath of relief. "So why the phone call, James? Like I said, it's not like you to call."

Jim's eyes shut involuntarily at the use of his name, loving the way it slid from her mouth; bringing back those intimate memories that he kept safe in his mind. "Listen, Molls," his voice now more serious, "the bodies today," he stopped and let out a breath.

"Jim? Jim, what is it?...Oh god, do I know them?!" she almost yelled. He came into contact with a lot of people it was only a matter of time before he crossed paths with someone she was acquainted with.

"No, no, no," he assured her, "Nothing like that."

"Then what?"

"They're young, rather young, and female-"

"Children, James?!" she scolded, "You can't be serious! For some stupid Christmas…whatever this is!"

"Molly-" he tried to cut in.

"That's taking things a little far, Jim. I thought even you were better than that. I thought just maybe that-"

"DAMNIT, MOLLY LISTEN TO ME!" he screamed into the phone, causing her to go rigid on the other end. He took a deep breath. "Now, if you'll allow me to continue. Young yes, but believe me when I say, Molly, that I had no hand in their deaths."

"Why are you telling me this," she whispered into the receiver.

Jim ran a hand through his short dark hair. "Honestly, I haven't a clue, not in the slightest."

There was a pause of silence on the line.

"I suppose, I wanted to warn you. While heartless I may be, we both know, Molly, yours is quite large, it even has a weak spot for tortured souls such as myself."

Molly sighed, "You're not heartless, James, if you were you wouldn't have called."

Jim smirked, she had him there. Indeed Molly Hooper had wormed her way inside the depth of James Moriarty's soul and lodged herself there, inevitably.

"Until later then, Molly," Jim finalized, abruptly ending their call. He didn't want to give her time to hear the snicker in his voice, the reassurance that she had a hold over him. He knew it was there, but he was damn sure he was going to let her know exactly how tight the grip was.

Not yet anyway.

.


Molly sighed, slipping her mobile into the front pocket of her lab coat. A heartless man James Moriarty was indeed not. Corrupted, insane, a tendency for violence, yes; but heartless? No. He was anything but. His heart could be a cold, cold place if you didn't know your way around it, but if he took a liking to you, and he let you in just the teensiest bit…the warmth that lie within could surprise you. It hardly ever came out in words, and when it did it was absurdly subtle. It was in his eyes, those deep mahogany eyes and the feather light touches that would dance across her skin that sent shivers throughout her core. Someone without a heart wouldn't look nor touch her the way he did, they simply couldn't.

He wasn't lying about the victims that now lied in her morgue. Lestrade had forced Sherlock out once his pestering drove Molly to tears. She would have liked to think they were nothing more than crocodile tears; but no, they were every bit as real as the seven young girls that were at eternal rest in front of her.


"Still denying it, Molly? Only one man is capable of killing children without a second thought," Sherlock had dully remarked once the bodies were exposed.

Seven beautiful young girls; the youngest age ten, the oldest not yet seventeen. Each one was dressed in a pristine white ballerina get up, complete with headdress. They had been found, presumably, forcibly drowned in the fountain at Trafalgar Square early morning by a tourist no less.

A God damned tourist.

Scrawled across the space between the shoulder blades of the eldest girl was the writing, 'Seven swans a sinking.'

"These girls are dead, Sherlock, and all you can talk about is Moriarty!"

Jim had said he hadn't a hand in their death; surely the drowning had been a set up. He couldn't have possibly drowned these poor children. Molly could hardly look at them without her eyes welling up, her thoughts going to her cousin's children.

"The quicker you cooperate, the quicker this is done, Ms. Hooper," he hissed so no one else could hear.

"And the quicker you get it through your thick head that this has nothing to do with me, the quicker you can focus on your job!"

Sherlock's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "My job is to catch the killer. A man I have every reason to believe is James Moriarty; the very same James Moriarty THAT YOU SLEPT WITH!" his fists came down on her desk and the pens jumped from her mug and rolled onto the floor.

Lestrade strode up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "That's enough, Sherlock."

A stray tear had already fallen from each of Molly's eyes and she took her bottom lip between her teeth, resisting an outburst herself.

"But you didn't think of that, did you Molly? Did you think of the repercussions it would have when he came back to start anew? What happens when we track him down and he gives you up, hmm? What then? I warned you not to play with spiders, Molly."

"Sherlock." Greg's voice was firm and his dark eyes were narrowed slits. "I said that's enough."

Sherlock smirked.

"You really don't care do you?" Molly whispered with a hitch in her breath. "About the effects these sort of things have on the rest of us, how it feels to see death on a daily basis and not show emotion. I do it because it's my job; you do it because you simply don't give a fuck."

Molly shook her head and licked her lips. "You know, the funny thing most of it doesn't even faze me anymore, I see so many bodies, broken in some way or form and you follow up with some backhanded comment. Death is just another part of life. I realized that real quick. But then this happens, youth and innocence. Children that have had their lives stolen!" she paused to swallow the building in her throat, "and you still don't care. About them, about me, about anything at all. It's just you in the end, and if you're lucky John will stick around, because lord knows nobody else will ever have the patience."

Sherlock just stared at her and for a second she thought she saw remorse in the detective's eyes, but surely that was impossible.

Lestrade took him gently by the elbow and tugged him toward the door. "I think it'd be best if we leave."

Sherlock glanced between the Inspector and the mortician twice before giving a nod to the greying man and turned back to Molly once more.

"I do hope our little…altercation has not upset your plans to join us this evening, Ms. Hooper. John will be quite upset if you don't show."

Molly drew a hand down her face and sighed. "We'll see, Sherlock."


That had been nearly two hours ago and yet she had still not touched the bodies. The girls still lie fully clothed on their metal tables and Molly sat at her desk simply staring across the room at them. She had done this a thousand times, even children, but this time she knew why they were here and it was beginning to strike a little close to home. Her phone chirped and buzzed against the wood grain of her desk; she didn't have to check it to know it was from Jim.

You still have a job to do Molly-bear, as hard as it may be. –JM

Molly let out a breath and drew her lips in, biting down softly before releasing them.

One of them is ten years old, James! –MH

I'm aware of the ages, Molly; however I can personally guarantee I had nothing to do with their deaths; I already told you as such. Cruel as I may be, killing children isn't in my repertoire. –JM

Molly tugged at her hair. She knew that, but even so he was still behind the act and it still put a knot in her chest.

Never the less, Jim, you arranged to have them placed there. The parents will go through a grief like no other. –MH

His reply was quick.

They had no parents. –JM

Molly drew in a sharp breath as her eyes scanned the words. No parents? Where did he find them? Her phone ringing with a sharp trill.

He started to speak before she had the time to answer.

"You would have known that much, Molly, if you would have simply read the police reports, but instead you decided to have a little spat with dear old Sherlock. Now, if you'd like we can discuss things later, fine; but I really need you to do your job, Molls," his voice softened as he blew out a sigh. "I need you to remain normal, to keep being you. I know you know how imperative that is."

"Yeah, I know. I'll get on with it, don't worry," she forced out.

"Come now, love, I've been working real hard and have waited a long time to see you. I'd hate for our reunion to be spoiled because of this."

She could hear the clear pout in his voice.

"I'm sorry, Jim. It-it's just they're so young-"

"You've performed autopsies on younger," he interrupted flatly.

"Yes, but they weren't connected to you!" she spat back at him. "You may not have been the one to end it, but you still had a hand in their final place. I wish I could say you're better than that," she said softly.

"But I'm not, am I? Poor little Mouse, trembling when things get too frightening," he sneered into the line. "You know what I am, Molly, you knew what you were signing yourself up for! Unless you regret it of course."

She fell silent.

"Do you? Do you regret it, Molly?"

"Regret what?" she finally breathed.

"Me."

Molly closed her eyes and her tongue slowly seeped out to wet her lips. "No, James, I don't."

Jim chuckled.

"But you frustrate me."

"Mmm," he huffed, "frustration, I can deal with that. I have many a ways to deal with that, pet."

Molly rolled her eyes, "God Jim-"

He cut her off again, "None of that now, love, save it for later."

She couldn't help but let out a small laugh, "I need to get back to work."

"Yes, you do. Take care, Molls, and do try to not be upset. I really don't want that to put a damper on things."

She heard a soft mew in the background and the clink of a glass.

"Where are you?"

"Oh…around," he sang with a smile in his voice.

"We'll talk later," she sighed with finality and hung up the phone; letting her head hit the desk with a light thud. It wasn't as if she could stay mad at him for long anyway, of course she wouldn't be upset by the time he showed up. Chances were she was going to be upset with the company that was going to be at 221B though. There wasn't a way to avoid Sherlock's glare for long, nor his impending threats.


It was with a heavy heart Molly stepped back into her flat. Jim had been honest, there was no way he had been responsible for the death of those girls, for ironically they had each been severely dehydrated under the care of a local wayward girl's home. Apparently some girls were more 'wayward' than most and the consequences proved to be dire. At least that is what Molly assumed, she'd wait until she'd spoken to Jim to finish her report. She could put it off for a day; Lestrade had seen her get emotional and she could chock it up to that.

It was quiet, she noticed, more quiet than usual. Where was Toby?

She wandered carefully into the kitchen to find his bowl half full with a chunk of roast beef and on the counter top sat a bottle of whiskey next to an empty tumbler. Molly breathed out a laugh and shook her head, stepping into the living room and coming across a sound asleep tabby cat stretched out along the couch.

"Spoiled," she whispered down at him. "Let's see what else dear old Jim left behind."

In her room she found an emerald green cocktail dress hanging from the door. Strapless, with beads and sequins adorning the top, a pleated bodice and rosettes lining the bottom. A faint smile graced her face as her fingers ran down the silk fabric. There was a note attached to the hanger.

Sorry, couldn't stick around, something came up. Enjoy your time at Baker Street…but not too much so I can't enjoy your company later. I always did love you in the colour green, goes well with your eyes.

See you soon.

-Jim XxX

"Oh, James," she sighed, silently cursing the fact that she still had to go to this damned thing at Baker street at all.

.


She had left her hair down and had decided to pair her dress with a simple pair of black flats. Heels never agreed with her and if she had to be here she might as well look good and be comfortable; and look good she did, judging by the way Lestrade's mouth fell at the sight of her.

"Careful, Inspector, you're bound to catch a bug in that state," Sherlock mumbled whilst sipping from his glass.

"Oh, Molly! Hello dear, how are you?" Mrs. Hudson beamed as John took her coat.

"Very well, thanks. How about yourself?"

"Ehhh, well, can't complain, now can I? Got my health and all," she shrugged.

"Drink?" A voice asked from behind her.

Molly turned to see a flustered Greg Lestrade holding a flute of champagne out to her with a shy smile playing on his lips.

"How's Karen and the kids?" Molly offered with a polite smile, her lipstick leaving a stain behind on the glass.

"Oh, good, good, think we've finally got things sorted, her and I."

"No you don't." Sherlock's voice floated across the room from his seat in front of his computer. "She's sleeping with the P.E. teacher."

He gained a heated glare from everyone in the room.

"So, John," she tried again. Maybe turning the conversation to someone else would help things. "Heard you were going off to your sisters?"

"Yeah," he replied while taking a pull from the beer in his hand, leaning in toward the pretty dark haired girl sitting next to him, Jamie or Janette or something (Molly really didn't care, he'd have a new one within a week or two).

"Sherlock was complaining…or saying," she let out an innocent laugh, passing it off as nerves.

"For the first time ever she's cleaning up her act," John continued, "she's off the booze!"

"Nope," Sherlock popped.

"Shut up, Sherlock," John snapped.

Or perhaps not, Molly thought with a grimace.

"And what of you, Molly," Sherlock mused, finally turning his head from the screen. "Meeting with new boyfriend tonight, or perhaps an old one?" he quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"Not unless I'm taking one of you home with me," she replied assuringly with a sharp tilt of her head.

"Come now, Molly, you hardly dress to fit yourself at all; let alone in a colour that suits both the tone of your skin and the brown in your eyes," he pressed.

"And yet, you noticed. Only the great Sherlock Holmes would be able to dish out a compliment and be able to pass judgment at the same time," Molly sucked her teeth and shook her head with disproval.

"Those were not my intentions, and I apologize if you took offence." His grey eyes were scrunched in concern.

Hah! She thought to herself he had actually felt a twinge of guilt. Of course knowing Sherlock he very well could have been putting on as much of a ruse as she was. Playing the part and behaving for the sake of the good Doctor and his land lady.

"You should leave your hair down more often, it's…"

Here comes the insult-

"…nice," he finished, the words escaping his lips slowly.

Well at least he did know how to give a straight compliment…even if it apparently pained him to do so.

Molly smiled softly and nodded her head, "Thanks," she said simply, stepping around him to get another drink.

It was going to be a long night.

.


It was a damn good thing Moran had followed her to Baker Street because she was in no state to drive after she stumbled out onto the sidewalk. He was surprised that gloomy Inspector hadn't attempted to offer taking her home. Sebastian waited, having already jimmied his way into her car and was in the driver's seat when she opened the door.

Molly scoffed. "Should've known he'd have sent you to babysit me."

"Just get in the car, Hooper," he groaned, fiddling with his phone.

Be back with her soon, boss, going to get some coffee in her before I bring her back to you. –SM

She's pissed? Not that I blame her, lock me in a room with Sherlock Holmes and company I would be too I suppose. –JM

Don't be long, Seb. –JM

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the replies and drove off in the direction of the nearest petrol station.

"My flat is the other way, Moron…Moran," she corrected herself with a snigger. "Does Jim ever fuck that up through text; it is only one letter after all." Her voice switched to a bad low Irish accent. "Do as I say, Moron, do it now, Moron!" She giggled into her shoulder.

He shook his head in annoyance. "Shut it, Hooper. We're gettin' you coffee, I'm not bringing you back in this state to Jim," he said with a harsh laugh. "That's for damn sure."

Moran sat in the car and waited idly for her to down two full cups of black coffee with sugar only; no cream. He handed her two aspirin to prepare her for later and dropped her off in front of her building.

"I'll park it and drop the keys by in the morning. Now I suggest you get up there." He handed her a single key, the key to her door.

Jim's key.

Molly nodded, her eyes already beginning to look clearer than they had when he picked her up not but an hour ago.

"Thanks, Seb," she said with an honest smile and tightened her coat around her before stepping out of the car.


She stood before her door, flattening her hair down and twisting her hands together nervously. She had almost thought about knocking, but it was her flat after all, that wouldn't make much sense. Then again nothing with Jim ever did.

She slid the key into the lock and quietly stepped into the darkened flat, shutting the door behind her with a soft thump and she re-clicked the lock and fastened the chain. A smile immediately found its way onto her face; she could smell his aftershave in the air and the bottle of whiskey had now been moved to the end table next to the couch, on the back of the chair in the living room hung his suit jacket.

She tiptoed further into the room and saw his form lying across the couch. One arm tucked behind his head and the other rested on his chest, his breathing steady. She shrugged off her jacket and let it rest on the back of the couch, crouching down beside him. Her fingers gently drifted into his hair and down the length of his face, softly stroking the stubble on his cheek. His eyelids fluttered briefly before they revealed the deep brown orbs that rest beneath them.

His eyes found hers in the dark and all the anger that she might have had earlier in the day simply vanished.

"Hello, James," she whispered, her hand still caressing his face.

He smiled, the hand that had been behind his head now moving to grab hold the one she had on his cheek and press a slow open mouthed kiss to the inside of her wrist, the miniscule touch of his tongue to her skin sending a shock throughout her body.

"Molly," he breathed with a grin and a glint in his dark eyes despite the dimness in the room.

She gave her head a jerk back, signaling him to sit up. "Come on, you've always hated this couch, said it was the most uncomfortable thing you've ever sat on."

Jim stretched his arms above his head, "That was before that shit bed I'm sleeping on now. That, my dear, beats your couch by far."

Molly smiled and ran a hand down the length of his tie. "I'll put on some water," she said softly, getting up and turning to leave. She was stopped by his fingers wrapping around her wrist, forcing her to turn back to him. He took both her hands in his and stood, pressing his forehead to hers.

"No tea," he whispered. "I'm much too tired for tea." He leaned back, releasing her hands to click on the table lamp and then proceeded to look her over. "I was right," he said simply.

"About?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.

"The colour." He was behind her now, his hands ghosting over her waistline, tracing her form but not quite touching.

Teasing.

"It's perfect on you," his deep voice breathed on her neck as he swept her hair from her shoulder to drop a kiss there.

Still teasing.

"It's after midnight, Molls, I never got my midnight kiss," he murmured against her skin, scruff tickling her neckline. His hands landed on her then, spinning her in his arms, her hands landing on his chest as her fingers began to loosen the knot in his tie. She slid the end out so that it hung loosely on each side of his collar, all while they stood with their heads together, sharing one another's breath. She pulled back slightly, his eyes nearly black with desire and she gave a tug on the tie ends, bringing him down to her. She paused over his lips, allowing hers to graze his only a little. Brushing but never fusing, tasting the remnants of his whiskey and chewing gum. Her tongue swept lightly against his lip when she finally pulled him to her completely and they were both immediately lost within each other.

With an inhale and a shudder she welcomed the familiar heat back into her life, her hands moving behind his head and fisting in his hair while his pressed into her lower back, molding her to him, pulling her deeper into him as they backed up until they hit the wall. She slipped the tie from his collar and began to work at the buttons on his shirt, anxiously tugging it from his trousers. She pushed it from his shoulders and took the time to drape it over the chair where his jacket sat.

It still was Jim after all, the damn thing would have to be ironed and pressed in the morning as well. If he stuck around that long.

She returned to him, her arms slinking around his waist from behind and pressing a kiss to a freckle on his shoulder blade.

"Bed, James. Now."

She grinned against his skin when she felt the flutter in his stomach at the sound of her demand. She took a breath and stepped back away from him, sauntering back into her bedroom, her fingers finding the zip on the side of her dress and slowly beginning to slide it down. Again her hand was stopped by his as he aided her in unzipping and then lowering the dress so she could step out of it.

And being Jim, he replaced it on the hanger on her door.

She rolled her eyes with a smile.

He backed her up until her knees hit the bed and Molly crawled backward until she had reached her pillows, chewing on her lower lip and twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Jim added his trousers to a hanger and hung them with her dress and climbed onto the bed, hovering over her body, his fingertips going from her shoulder to her hip.

"I've missed this." He pressed a kiss to the inside of her neck. "I've missed you," he admitted quietly.

She pulled back, cradling his head in her hands. "You mean it? You're not just saying it to win me over."

Jim's eyebrows arched and then he laughed. "Oooohh Molly, sweet, sweet Molly," he sighed. "Once upon a time, perhaps; but no, as much as I shouldn't have, I did indeed miss you." He captured her lips and she let out a whimper when his hand began to drift down and skim along the waist band of her panties.

"What happens when this is all over, James? If we make it through this?"

"You and I are going to conquer the world, Molly Hooper," he replied huskily against her mouth. "Just you wait and see."

.


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A/N:...AND HELLO JIMBO! So how was it? Did we all enjoy your Molliarty reunion? I wanted it to be a little smexier but I had an argument with my own honey and well...I wasn't feeling so sexy after that. So sorry about that. Plus this is only rated T anyway :D Perhaps in the future we will have a ratings jump...maybe. And yes I totally took the Christmas party scene and converted it to my liking for New Years...and does anyone know Lestrade's wife's name? Was it ever mentioned in Season One?... Okay, well...I'm sleepy so night! and don't forget to leave some lovely words in that box below!

Shelly