Caught
The party stood around, confused as ever.
"She chooses now to run off?" John cried.
"I'll go-" Mycroft began.
"No. I will go," Sherlock said. "You, stay here with Lestrade."
"Sherlock-" Mycroft demanded.
"No, I think that's a good idea."
As Sherlock was leaving, Mycroft grabbed his arm. "You'll never find her…" he whispered.
"Oh?" Sherlock asked innocently. "Just watch me." With that, he tore away from Mycroft's grip and charged down the street.
Molly was running as fast as she could. God, don't let them catch me… She ran until her legs could carry her no longer. She dipped into a clothing store and came out about an hour later completely disguised. She wore a skirt with a blouse and blazer; her hair was put in a tight bun, and she had earrings, other jewelry and small glasses, which she kept on her head. That should do it, Molly thought to herself.
She walked to the side of a sidewalk and hailed a taxi.
"Can you take me out of town?" Molly asked, trying to make her accent sound Scottish.
"Yes, ma'am," the driver responded in a southern American accent without turning to face her.
Molly got in and after she was settled, she started looking about the car. There were no locks in the back, and there was a one way window between front and back seat. Molly couldn't see the driver or anything out the front window, which made her uncomfortable.
"Can you hear me?"
"Perfectly, ma'am."
"You have a peculiar cab, if you don't mind me saying so."
"No worries, I know it's a lot different from the British ones. So why're ya leaving the country, no imposition intended."
"I'm on a sort of escape. I need to get away from London."
"If you don't mind me asking ma'am, why?" the driver inquired politely.
"It's rather a secret mission."
"Your accent sounds both British and Scottish. Any reason why?"
"My mum was from Britain and my father was Scottish," Molly said, biting her lip. She realized that she hadn't had time to plan this part out. "So what's your story?"
"Ma'am?"
"When did you start driving? Where are you from? You sound American."
"I am. From Virginia originally, ma'am," the driver said confidently.
"You know, you don't have to keep calling me ma'am."
"Oh, all right. If you prefer I not, I won't. Don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. Where are you headed?"
"I'm not quite sure… Somewhere out of London, possibly even out of England," Molly remarked carefully.
Suddenly the car stopped. "Where are we?" Molly asked. The driver didn't respond, but one way windows came up in front of the regular window. The window between the front and back seat came down, but the driver didn't look at Molly.
"Molly, I know you're trying to run, but you can't now."
Molly rattled the doors, but they were locked and there were no locks in the back seat. "What have you done? Who are you?"
"I have done nothing; it is you who has committed a crime. As for who I am-" the driver then turned to face Molly and she gasped. Oh no… she thought.