Sherlock was tired. Completely and totally exhausted with heaps of self-loathing and fury piled on top for good measure. He had stopped fighting futilely at this point, and had resigned to sitting back in his mental prison and watching Belial miserably. He felt a little better knowing that Molly was safe from Belial at the moment, since she had barricaded the door to John's room with a line of salt, but he knew it was only a temporary solution. He didn't want to think about what would happen when Belial managed to get through…

Click.

Oh no. If Sherlock still had control over his lungs, his breath would have hitched in his throat. His head turned toward the door in surprise.

Wait.

His head turned toward the door in surprise? But he didn't have control over his body anymore. Belial did. But then that would mean Belial was as surprised at the door unlocking as he was. Sherlock mulled over this new information for a moment.

'If I didn't unlock the door,' Sherlock thought, 'and Belial didn't unlock the door, then who…oh.'

Sure enough, Molly was standing in the doorway, a calm anger radiating off of her. She stepped toward him, her step confident and her gaze fierce.

'This is weird and not like Molly at all.' Sherlock thought, concerned. 'What happened in these past ten minutes?'

Sherlock felt his face contort into a sadistic grin.

"Ah, Shekinah! It's been too long," Belial said through Sherlock's voice. Not-Molly narrowed her eyes at him.

"Save it, Belial. Leave these two alone. You have nothing to gain from harassing them," she said in a smooth voice that sounded really weird coming from Molly's mouth. Sherlock could only assume that this "Shekinah" person had possessed Molly. His hopes sank even further. If Molly was gone, then what prayer did they have of making it out of this fiasco alive?

"Oh, but Shekinah you know as well as I that Sherlock here is very special indeed," Belial said, stepping closer to Shekinah.

"Not in a way you can take advantage of."

"Oh really now? I beg to differ. Everything can be taken advantage of."

Belial was less than a pace from Shekinah now. So close that Sherlock could see the flecks of tan in Molly's dark brown eyes; could count the faint freckles on her cheeks. He was sure that if he still had control over his limbs, he'd have reached out to touch her face. In that respect, he figured, it was a good thing he couldn't move his arms.

"Interesting hypothesis, Belial," Shekinah said suddenly, snapping Sherlock out of his Molly-induced reverie, "Let's put it to the test, shall we?"

"What are you talking about?" Belial narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Shekinah smirked.

"It wasn't very smart of you to stand so close to me."

Belial's eyes widened, but before he could react, Shekinah closed the gap between them and backed him against the wall, chanting in Enochian. A fiery wave of pain coursed through Sherlock, and he screamed in unison with Belial. He couldn't see anything anymore. Everything was totally eclipsed by light brighter than the sun at noonday. It felt like he was burning from the inside out. He tried to scream again, but no sound came out. There was nothing but an intense humming that threatened to burst his eardrums. Sherlock could feel the tears he hadn't even known he was crying streak down his cheeks. Fatigue was beginning to overtake him. The pain was simply too much to bear any longer.

The light faded to blackness.