A/N: Hello, everyone! Thank you so much for all of the reviews, favorites, and follows. I can't believe there are so many people who like this story. This chapter is a bit different from the rest but I hope you'll still like it. Also, if you like this I have a Sherlolly one shot that you might want to check out. Thanks for reading!-thefaultoflegend
Tom never expected his life to turn out like it did. He had a normal childhood. He grew up with his mother and father in the countryside. He had a dog, which he loved dearly. He liked to read and play games. He went to school, made good grades, and had lots of friends. He was completely ordinary. And then university came and the story changed. He got involved in the wrong crowd, a group of law breakers and hot heads, people who did whatever they could to get their own way. He stumbled upon the group, really. He often wondered what his life would be like had he not met a certain man. He was taking a law class and had to do a group project. That's when he first met James Moriarty.
James was always off-putting. He always had a glare in his eyes that shook Tom to his very core. He was intimating; there was no question about that. He took Tom in, said that he was easily moldable and he could use him to his advantage. They didn't end up doing the group project, instead blackmailing the teacher into giving them an A. It was the first taste Tom got of control and manipulation, and he couldn't say that he hated it. He had always been a bit of a nerd, preferring to play trading card games instead of sports in his younger years. Yes he had a lot of friends, but they had always been bullied. Now here was this person who held power, could get anything he wanted done at the snap of his fingers, and Tom was dazzled by it. He had the opportunity to become the bully. He moved to Moriarty, taking in everything he had to teach him. They worked on cases together, being hired by various clients to do their dirty work. He never liked the killing, never that part, but Moriarty made him feel like he was important. It was lucky that he looked like the man's worst enemy.
The road to taking down Sherlock Holmes through Molly Hooper wasn't an easy one, and started soon after the man took his jump. Moriarty knew that there was only a slim possibility that he actually died. When he found out that it was Molly Hooper who helped him accomplish the feat, he knew she had to be eliminated. He couldn't have anybody going against him. But then again, he could use her. Without her knowledge, of course, but she could easily become a piece to his game.
It took time and skill and preparation and charm, something that Tom had a lot of trouble with. But Moriarty taught him; he molded him into becoming a great criminal. The first step was seeking out Molly Hooper's friends. That one was easy, as she didn't have that many outside of work. He put on the long coat, the scarf, and the shoes, and he pretended. He acted like a good man, one who would make a good boyfriend, maybe even one day a good husband. Moriarty had taught him all sorts of acting skills, things that he could use to his advantage. Her friends let him in and he became one of the group. He was out to lunch one day with his new 'friends' when Molly walked in. She was a little bit shy at first, but she warmed up eventually and fell for Tom quickly. Moriarty was right; dressing like Sherlock would work just fine. He smiled when he shook her hand, not because he liked her, but because the plan was finally falling into place.
After that it was easy. He tried his best to act like Sherlock Holmes, coming up short he knew, but Molly still stuck around. He could tell that she was bored with him, but he didn't dare think she would leave. This was probably the only opportunity she'd ever had to settle down with someone and both Moriarty and Tom knew she wouldn't let it go to waste. So of course, when Tom proposed she said yes. After all, Tom was the next best thing if she couldn't have Sherlock.
When Tom first met Sherlock, he saw the smile that the consulting detective threw to his 'fiancée.' He saw the way he looked at her, the longing in his eyes even the man himself didn't know it was there yet. And he also took note of the way he sneered at Tom, how he hated him upon first meeting. And he knew he succeeded. He had, in some way, affected the consulting detective.
The plan was working. Molly Hooper was slowly being extracted from Sherlock Holmes' life. John Watson was already married off and away. And Sherlock was feeling isolated, retreating back to his former state from before he had friends. The next step was to kill Molly Hooper right before the wedding; she wouldn't be needed anymore and Sherlock would have to deal with the pain of losing her for good. It was a good plan, Moriarty coming up with it himself, of course. He said that the only way to destroy Sherlock Holmes was to go through the things that held the most importance to him. And Molly was over looked the first time.
And in the end, she was overlooked the second time. The woman was like a sneak attack, coming out of nowhere; nobody expected it from the mousy Bart's pathologist. But she broke it off with Tom and went running back to Sherlock. But this time it was different. Sherlock was caving into to her. The plan had to be changed. He started calling Molly, trying to win her back, but she wouldn't budge now that she was at least good friends with her consulting detective.
The murders were never supposed to be part of it, but it ended up working better anyway. They scared Sherlock Holmes. They watched as he became more anxious. Slow was better, they realized. Slow was working.
Tom was out that day looking for his next victim. His eyes searched for women in their mid-30s with small frames and long brown hair. He chose the market that day, hoping he could scout someone out. Moriarty had been on his back, constantly bugging him about who was next, that they needed to find someone else. The problem with targeting Sherlock's patience is that it also targeted Moriarty's. The two men were very much alike, Tom realized.
He stood in the soup aisle with a plastic basket in his hands. He never expected what would come next that day. So far, he had been able to avoid any personal run-ins with Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper. But when they turned the aisle, a basket in Sherlock's hands he wondered how it hadn't happened yet.
The consulting detective was adorned with his usual long coat and scarf, looking a bit bored but still listening to Molly as she chattered on about some book or TV program, Tom was sure. Neither one of them were paying attention to the man who was standing next to a display of chicken noodle soup. He turned to face the cans, trying to look inconspicuous. But when he reached for a can and instead dropped it on the ground, the pathologist was right there at his feet, picking it up for him. Typical Molly. She looked up and handed it to him, gasping and taking a step back in the process.
"T-T-Tom." She stuttered and her face turned red, her eyes hitting the floor, her shoes, anywhere except for on him. Tom was startled at first. All of his encounters are ones that he always has time to prepare for. It's like an actor getting into character before going out on stage. And right now he's the sweet single guy who wants to take the pretty girl out. He's not the ex-fiancé who's supposed to look like the consulting detective that is still standing in front of him. He panics for a second, realizing that his attire is not what the two people are expecting. After the plan changed he got rid of the coat and scarf, opting for a more normal and relaxed look. He quickly got into a different mind-set, the mind-set of Tom- Molly's not good enough ex-fiancé, and greeted the two of them.
"Hi, Molly. Sherlock." He nodded at the detective and he nodded back. Tom could feel Sherlock's eyes all over him, surely deducing everything about him. He desperately wished that he didn't deduce the most important thing, his affiliation with Moriarty. If Sherlock found out, James would kill Tom this time for sure, it wouldn't just be an empty threat. "It's weird bumping into you guys here. Together," he said to Molly who blushed deeper.
"We're just doing a bit of shopping. Sherlock seems to have more fingers in his refrigerator than food." Tom knew they were living together; Moriarty had people keeping an eye on the two of them, but he didn't expect it to be as serious as Sherlock Holmes, the man who never even thought about doing anything remotely domestic, going grocery shopping.
"Well, yes. Can't have that can we?" He noticed Sherlock eyeing the two of them, and took it as an opportunity to stir things up a bit. "You know, I've been trying to call you, Molly," he said as he took a step closer to her and dropped his voice low. "I wish you would just talk to me."
"There's nothing to talk about, Tom. We're over," she said simply and strongly.
"But we don't have to be. We can work through this." He took another step forward and she took one back, bumping into Sherlock who, to Tom's amazement, rested a hand on the small of her back protectively.
"I said no, Tom," spoke Molly. Tom went to protest but Sherlock, who had kept quiet up to this point stepped in front of the pathologist, putting himself between the ex-fiancés.
"She said no, Tom. And I suggest you quit contacting her or else you will have not only me, but also my brother to answer to. And I assure you that you don't want that. You've changed your look, I see. This means I know you're looking for other women. Carrying around an empty shopping basket and you've been here for an hour, judging by the fact that your clothes are dry and it's been raining all day. You surely would have found something within an hour of shopping, but no, that's not why you're here. You've come here to meet people, women to be specific. And I don't know why you're still after Molly when she obviously has no interest in you and has never had any real interest with you. Stay away from my pathologist." With that Sherlock grabbed Molly's hand and towed her away from the soup aisle, leaving Tom there with a devilish smile on his face. Oh yes, this plan was going to work just fine.