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 Fourteen

Time Runs Out

Molly wasn't sure how long she sat on the bed, alone with only her thoughts and her prayers that Sherlock would save her. The cuffs on her wrist chaffed uncomfortably, but there was nothing to be done to fix it.

At some point, a sweet looking old woman that reminded her too much of the loving Mrs. Hudson came in, and gave her some food and water. She wasn't uncuffed, but the woman was patient, feeding her spoonfuls of a warm soup and occasionally lifting the bottle to her lips so she could drink. She was constantly talking and comforting Molly, telling her that everything would be fine, as if she didn't know her fate.

Then she was left alone for another few hours, until another woman, younger this time, and not nearly as nice looking, uncuffed her and dragged her to a bathroom. "Clean up." The woman practically growled at her, "You have an hour." Molly did as instructed, more out of a need to be clean and to relieve herself than a want to obey anything these people asked of her.

When that was done, she was re-cuffed, in the front this time, and led back to the room. The woman shoved her unceremoniously onto the bed before leaving. After that, Molly was left alone for a long time.

Eventually, bored, and with nothing else to do, she fell back onto the pillow, and drifted off to sleep, hoping that when she woke, Sherlock would be with her, and everything would be all right.

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

Molly was woken up by a hand gently shaking her by her shoulder. "Molly dearest, it's time for you to wake up." a familiar voice said in a sickeningly sweet tone. She was wide awake in an instant, and scooting as far away as the bed would allow.

Moriarty gave her a pained look, though she knew it was fake, and went to his seat from earlier. "You offend me Molly, it's not as if I mean you any harm." he said, continuing to speak in the sweet, loving tone that 'Jim from IT' used to use with her.

"Y-you're going to. . . to. . ." Molly couldn't bring herself to say it, still not giving up.

"Yes, well," Moriarty shrugged. "Blame Sherlock dear, he's the one who couldn't even catch the simplest of clues." Finally, he felt the facade fall, giving her a maniacal smirk.

"I don't blame him for anything. He'll find me, I know it." She spoke with more certainty than she felt. Moriarty chuckled darkly in response.

"Oh, you really don't know how little time you have left, do you?"

"H-how much time?" She asked, her throat tight and eyes wide. She hadn't even considered how much time she had slept, or how long she had.

"Fourteen minutes, my dear. He's barely even made it to the vicinity. Even with his brother's help, he won't find this place." He grinned devilishly. "We'll have fun, darling. I promise."

A shiver ran down Molly's spine. Trying to put on a brave front, she asked, "Why do you insist on calling me darling?"

Finally, Moriarty seemed lost for words, if only for a moment. He changed positions in his seat, until his elbows rested on his knees and his fists were under his head, fingers interlaced. "Good question. Maybe I like it, darling." He enunciated the word. "You know, it really isn't smart to break up with the most powerful criminal in the world, especially when he grows so fond of his toys."

She paled at the implications, that he - that Moriarty - might actually have had. . . feelings for her. "B-but you're gay!" she exclaimed, blushing.

Moriarty seemed surprised by her outburst. He let out a throaty laugh. "All a game, for Sherlock of course, really now, if I had been gay, do you think I would have - "

"Don't, please." Molly said, cutting him off. She looked down at the bed, ashamed and embarrassed as memories preferably forgotten came flooding back to her.

Moriarty ignored her pleading. He stood, and approached the bed, grabbing her under her chin and lifting her gaze up to his. "Do you think I would have taken you as you cried my name in ecstasy, if I had been gay?" He watched with glee as her face contorted with shame.

He kissed her roughly then, pressing his lips hard against hers, and forced his way between her lips as she gasped. He thoroughly ravaged her mouth, despite her own lack of participation. She tried to push against his chest, to make him step away, but with her wrists cuffed, and with him being stronger than her, it was no use. When he was good and ready, he pulled away, and looked down at his watch, smirking.

"And, my dearest Maid Marian, you're all out of time."

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

Sherlock arrived in Sherwood forest with only ten minutes left on the clock. He had met up with one of Mycroft's officials in Nottinghamshire, hoping for news in the village, but there was nothing.

He approached his brother, who was waiting for him close to his drop off point. "Has there been any luck Mycroft?" He asked, almost desperately. His brother cocked an eyebrow. He felt genuine remorse for his oncoming response, seeing his brother in such a distressed fashion.

"I'm sorry Sherlock. No sign of Moriarty or the girl yet."

"Molly, Mycroft. Her name is Molly." Sherlock corrected instantly, scowling. "How much more of the forest is there?"

"Still about 200 square miles, I'm afraid. Her time is slipping fast, Sherlock. Are you prepared for -"

"Don't you dare say it Mycroft." He warned, a dark look in his eyes. "Finding her after is not an option. Don't consider it." His voice was almost a growl, holding his hatred, anger, and frustration all in one sound.

"Sherlock." Mycroft said in his controlling voice, "You must view all options, and as much as you wish to deny this actuality, even I can't tear this forest apart to find her any faster."

"I know that." He sneered. "But Molly doesn't deserve this Mycroft, you don't know her."

"And you do?" he countered.

"Yes."

"How do you know her so well then?

"Because she's My Pathologist." Sherlock replied, glaring at his brother.

Mycroft blinked a few times, surprised by the undisguised emotions on his brother's face. He had realized on the phone, but now, seeing it in person. . . His bother had actually fallen to sentiment. Even worse, Sherlock was in. . . Love. "What does that mean, Sherlock?" He pushed, both amused an concerned for his little brother.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "It means she's Mine."

"Sherlock." He used the tone he had learned from Mummy, the one that said he knew Sherlock was hiding something, he just wanted him to admit it out loud.

"Really Mycroft, now?" Sherlock demanded.

"Yes, little brother, now."

"Damn it, she's My Pathologist, and I. . ." He stopped as he heard a beeping; the alarm on his watch had gone off. "And I'm too late. . ." he sounded broken.

Chapter 14, done! Don't kill me for this outcome, please! Things will be righted, promise! (Though, yeah, too late for Sherlock. . . ))

The next chapter will contain the YOU-KNOW-WHAT, Non-Con, Rape, Bad things. If you have a trigger, SKIP IT! Please, don't read it if you could be set off by it, because it will not be pleasant, and I will eternally feel bad if someone gets hurt because of this story. I will be uploading two chapters next time, so you don't have to read it! please please please, viewer discretion is advised!

Renaissancebooklover108 and Rocking the Redhead: That was the point lovely reviewers! I wanted you squirming as you tried to figure out the obvious by thinking like Sherlock, when it was just so simple and in front of your - and Sherlock's - faces. I've always loved Moriarty's overall simplicity, and had to play on it in this story.

Adayuki: Even I feel sorry for Molly. . .Poor baby, I love her so much, and I'm doing this to her! I'm a horrible person! please forgive me when this is over!

UltimateOne: Whoops. . . :(

Kathmak: Exactly! Calling Molly His Pathologist is just like that, and when he says he can't live without his Blogger, AKA John. Only special people get a title like the ^.^

Bekkarific: I'm glad you like the theme, and I'd like to thank you for pointing out proper British English to me! I really do appreciate it, because, like I've said before, I'm trying to keep this accurate! I hope you continue to enjoy this story!

Shannon Burns: Whoot! This author loves you for loving her story!

Until Next time! :*