Disclaimer: I own nothing! I claim nothing! I'm just borrowing the characters for my own pleasure and the pleasure of whoever reads this!


Chapter Twelve

A Phone Call

When Molly woke up, she noticed a few things immediately. One, her hands were bound behind her back with something strong and cold, probably hand cuffs. Two, she was laying down on a surprisingly soft mattress. Three, she didn't seem to have any new injuries, though she did have a splitting headache.

The fourth realization came when a sickeningly familiar voice spoke. "Ah Molly, you're awake. Did you enjoy your nap?" The fourth realization: she was not alone.

She scrambled awkwardly to sit out, but only managed to twist until she faced Moriarty. He was in the same clothing as earlier, so, hopefully, not much time had passed. Of course, a few days could have passed, and she wouldn't know. The lighting in the room was dim, but from what she could make out, it was a legitimate bedroom, minus the windows and safe-homey feeling.

"What do you want?" Molly said, still groggy. Whatever drug he had used on her hadn't worn completely off.

Moriarty just smiled, and let out a chuckle. He was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, with his hands resting innocently on his knees. "I'm just playing a game, Molly. You know, I almost regret your involvement. Almost." Still, he looked like a small child, who got what he wanted for Christmas."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

His face suddenly hardened. "I did tell Sherlock if he got in my way, I'd burn the heart out of him. I'm just keeping my promise. And besides, I've always enjoyed playing with you. Didn't you enjoy it too, while it lasted?" he smirked, all traces of a child gone, replaced by more than a little cynical enjoyment.

She paled. "Y-you're wrong. I don't mean anything to Sherlock." she said, even though it hurt to do so. "And I never enjoyed being used by you. At least Sherlock's honest when he uses me." Finally, she was able to lift herself onto her knees, falling back to sit on her calves.

Moriarty chuckled. "Oh, how wrong you are, but it's all right; even Sherlock doesn't admit where his heart lies yet, but he will, before my little game is over, he will."

Then, he pulled out his cell phone. "I have an idea, let's call him!" again, he sounded so innocent and naive. "I'll even put it on speaker phone, so he can hear us both, won't that be fun?"

Molly shook her head, an obvious negative. "No, it's cruel. Why do you have to tease him? Why not just kill me and get it over with?" She asked, thinking that was her only possible fate.

"My dear Molly, my intention was never to kill you." he smirked mischievously. "I only plan to enlighten him. You haven't been completely honest with him, have you? Just a few dates, pish posh. Jim From IT was much more than that." he grinned wickedly before continuing. "I want to hurry along this part of the game. It's going to be so much fun, and doesn't everyone love fun?" With that, he dialed, and waited for Sherlock to pick up.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

By this time, Sherlock had rushed back to the apartment, and had examined everything, which, since Moriarty was involved, was actually. . .nothing.

There were no clues to examine to lead him on the correct path, no traces of what had happened aside from the obvious struggle. He knew where Molly had walked, knew no real violence had occurred, no blood shed, at least not in the apartment.

He was only surrounded by Moriarty's message: IOU.

All he could do was wait, for a call, or another clue to be presented to him. But waiting wasn't good enough. The poem's lines and names flashed through his mind again. If anything happened to Molly before he could fine her. . .

Enough. Sherlock shoved away his thoughts. He could not allowed himself to even think it, no matter how high the probability. Moriarty would not leave an empty threat as big as that one.

He was sitting on the couch, hands pressed together as if in prayer and pressed to his lips as he tried to find some minute detail he had missed, anything to help him find her before it was too late.

Then his phone rang, another blocked number. He answered immediately.

"Where is she?" He asked angrily.

"Oh Sherlock, how are you darling?" Moriarty replied, practically dancing in his seat, though Sherlock couldn't see.

"Where is Molly?"Sherlock asked again.

"Right here, why don't you say 'hi' dear?"

"Sherlock. . .I am so sorry." she said, trying to convey what she couldn't outright bring herself to say.

"That's enough sniveling, there's plenty of time for that." Moriarty scolded like an adult would to a child. "So Sherlock, did you like the poem? Was it as good a read for you as it will be for me?"

Sherlock's jaw went tight. "Moriarty, if you touch her, I will ki-"

"Too la-ate." He said in a sing song voice, not bothering to let Sherlock finish. Through the phone, Sherlock could hear what sounded like Molly begging for Jim to stop, but her voice was immediately covered by Moriarty's. "But I'll tell you what," he continued in that voice, "If you find us in under twenty-four hours, I promise not to do it again."

It took everything Sherlock had for him not to throw the phone. Moriarty would pay for what he did, that, he would make sure of. That thought alone was the only thing that kept Sherlock's temper in check. "What else?"

"Oh, nothing. Just make sure you don't mess up again. Maid Marian only has twenty-four hours before Guy find her hidden amongst Sherwood Forest's Merry Men."

After that, the phone went dead, and Sherlock, for all his control, hurled the device at the wall. It's screen shattered on impact.

Sherlock got up, and began to pace. Twenty-four hours. Moriarty had been generous, he knew. Her perhaps it was just the hard. He had to think. THINK!

He couldn't stay here, Sherlock realized. he had to get back to the subway, get the homeless network on it, now. He sped out the door, more than a little panicked.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Molly gulped as the call ended.

Moriarty put his phone into his pocket, and folded his hand on his knees. He just stared at her. It was disconcerting.

Finally, she asked, "What poem?" She had to know, if she wasn't going to be killed, then what?

He smirked. "Why, the rape of Maid Marian, of course." He checked his watch. "And Robin only has twenty-three hours and fifty-eight minutes left to prevent it." With that, he left the room, leaving Molly in tears as she contemplated her future.

She sent up a quick prayer. Sherlock, please find me.


Finished! Sadly, this is the last update before a two-week long Hiatus, I am so sorry everyone!

Rocking the Redhead: Oh, she has something for protection, she just doesn't know it yet, hehe *Evil smirk* And Sherlock. . . I didn't realize how hard it would be to write a not - OC Sherlolly, and I'm trying to keep things as not- OC as possible, so if he does come off cold, it's not his fault XD Hopefully this does a better job of showing how much he cares, even if he can't easily voice it.

RenaissanceBookLover108: Don't worry, they don't listen to me either XD ((If they did, this would have been M for much funner reasons way earlier on, darn that not-wanting-OC auther! [oh wait. . .]))

Adayuki, Crooney83, Shannon Burns, UltimateOne, and BeNICEeatRICExx: Glad you all like it and reviewed as well! Sorry for the short Hiatus, especially when it's at such a tender spot!