Disclaimer: Still not owning anything.

Chapter 20: Molly's secret

Jim was furious. He'd told John how jealous he had been, and the doctor had even reassured him…only to run back to the amateur detective's side right after. How dare him? That amounted to making fun of Jim, and he very much didn't appreciate being mocked. It wasn't like John could hope that his misbehaviour would stay hidden…no, he really didn't care either way.

The tech was tempted to storm back in at John's apartment, and maybe ransack the place, but that would solve nothing. He needed a plan. He needed something that would leave an impression and drive the point home.

But for now, he needed a distraction. He texted his girlfriend. Molly, always accommodating, who invited him to the lab – she had a night shift – promising that they'd have coffee and Jim could rant at her. There wasn't much to do and she'd be glad to see him.

Jim was in dire need of a bit of sympathy, and he heeded over there immediately. He entered the lab holding two cups of coffee, one just as she liked hers, and moaning loudly, "I hate Sherlock Holmes."

"What has he done now?" Molly queried, sighing and accepting gratefully the cup destined to her. She took a little sip.

"John is mine," Jim declared petulantly.

"Yours?" she echoed, surprised. "How come, Jim?"

"He's mine," the tech repeated. "My…best friend, and Sherlock is trying to steal him. Well, he can't!" He crossed his arms angrily.

Molly couldn't really help it – she laughed. "Oh Jim, dear, it doesn't work like that. Nobody can steal friends, especially best friends. They care for you no matter what, and nobody can get them to stop. I promise," she assured him.

"Impossible to steal. Easy for you to say, Molls. You weren't there. You haven't seen the both of them together…how easy it would be for Holmes to become John's whole world. How positively addicted to him our little doctor can become. It isn't only my position as friend that is threatened. It wouldn't surprise me if they hook up in a few days," Jim grumbled, pacing restlessly.

"Hook up? As in become a couple? But that's impossible, Jim. Don't be silly. Sherlock is not gay," Molly objected.

Jim snorted loudly. "Sorry to break it to you princess, but he is very much so. Otherwise he'd have had you long ago, if only for a pity fuck. But he simply can't bring himself to touch a woman like that."

"Liar!" Molly cried out. "Why are you so cruel tonight?" There were tears in her eyes, even if they didn't fall.

"Look, I apologize, love. That wasn't the way to say it, I can agree on that. I am really cranky tonight, that's why I've been so rude to you. Sorry. But it is true. In your heart, you must know it is true. Why would he have ignored one so wonderful as yourself if not so? Hell, I expected you to realize it months ago!" the tech replied.

She sniffled a bit, sad but flattered by his words. "I'm still not entirely convinced that Sherlock is gay. And even if he was, John is not, either. They won't become a couple," she said stubbornly.

"Or at least so he likes to repeat. I wouldn't want to fall for bi-erasure myself, though. You haven't seen the both of them together, Molls. They just click. And that's utterly wrong. It should be us – John and I. Sherlock is only an annoying, entirely useless third wheel trying to steal my spot. Something needs to be done about that. It can't be allowed to continue. I'm sure you agree," Jim complained, voice growing sharp.

"I don't want Sherlock to fall in love with anyone else," she admitted, blushing in shame, "but I don't think we can do anything. Feelings are out of anyone's control, after all."

"Oh, I'll think of something," Jim promised darkly, grinning in a slightly manic manner that gave her the shivers. "Never fear, my dear. Say, I need to check out something for an idea I've got and I've forgotten my mobile phone – yes, I know, so silly of me. Can I use yours, please?" That was a lie, but he needed to distract himself to give his subconscious time to elaborate a good plan, and snooping around in Molly's phone was as good an entertainment as any other.

She visibly tensed up, suddenly going rigid and replying quickly, "I forgot it too. I suppose we really match, Jim," with a weak laugh.

"Now that's odd, Molls, because I can see its outline in your coat pocket," he pointed out with a smirk. "You know you can trust me, right? Whatever dark secrets are hidden in your phone, I won't judge you, I promise. Not if you're silly…and not even if you're breaking the law, which I don't think you're the type to do anyway. I just need it a minute. Come on!"

Blushing brightly at being caught in her lie, she took the phone and handed it over reluctantly. "Careful with this," she warned seriously.

"Of course. Need I remind you that I'm in IT department?" Jim bit back with a shrug. She nodded, acknowledging his expertise. Of course, that meant that he had to investigate much more accurately than just checking her last whatsapp messages. What did Molly have to hide?

Something he would never have pegged her harmless self as, it turned out. There was a blog, with a pink and fluffy kittens background, but not an ordinary one. A foretelling one. Molly was playing the game, too. Jim could have destroyed the phone in his hands before she – caught off guard – would have the time to react. But what would have been the fun in that? he could do better than kill Molly. He could use her. "I'll have to complain with Dyaus for playing favourites," he said. "My blog doesn't look half as cute as yours," he pointed out, smirking.

"You play?" the pathologist gasped, lunging to take back her phone. He effortlessly evaded her.

"I do," he admitted, grinning in delight. "Relax, Molls."

After another fruitless effort to catch him, she had gone to take one of the lancets that were at hand for autopsies, and ordered in a cold voice, "Put my phone on the table. Gently. And since we're at that, put your mobile phone on it too. I promise that I'll just destroy it instead of cutting your throat. There's no way you don't have it on yourself if you're playing. Did you suspect me for long?"

"If I wanted to crush your phone I already would have," Jim remarked curtly, "this is a show of goodwill, dear." He put Molly's phone on the table. She snatched it away quickly.

"As for giving the game up, though…that's asking a bit much of me, love. Yes, you have a blade. And I have a gun," he added, showing it and waving it around a bit before training it on Molly. He'd bought it together with the one he'd gifted to John – they matched, which he liked a lot – and never used it before because it would ruin his beloved's fun knowing he wasn't the only one with a penchant for shooting. "About how long I suspected you…that would be telling," he concluded, winking. Truth was, he'd promised John not to find out the other contestants, and he'd been keeping that promise, so not at all. But any pact he'd made with the doctor was null and void now that he'd been so brazenly betrayed.

Molly recoiled in terror at his mad boyfriend, the lancet falling from her limp hand. "Please, Jim," she murmured.

"Oh baby girl, you don't have to beg – although it's a very nice touch, I'll admit," he reassured her, smiling. "Let me ask you something. You must have suspected that Johnny had a blog. He had the best (or worst, depending how you look at it) timing after all. Why didn't you attack him before?"

"I'm not stupid," she bit back. "John was a soldier…and I'd rather have him take out a few more contestants before I try to eliminate him. I don't doubt that he's better trained for this game than myself."

"Clever, Molls," Jim praised, nodding his approval…but still not lowering his gun. "So you see the usefulness in waiting for the right moment by yourself. I'm making you an offer. I'm not feeling too keen on shooting you tonight. Be my partner – my little helper. I have plans – and while you're not necessary, I'd like very much for you to be part of them. Of course, that means you'd be taking orders from me. So? What do you say?" he proposed cheerfully.

"If I don't help I'm useless – worse, I'm a liability, because I could – should, by all rights – be planning your demise. Not that I think I would be good enough to trick you into either surrendering your phone or dying," the pathologist acknowledged. "I'm not keen on being murdered tonight either, so I'll have to accept, Jimmy. I'll be your partner in the game for as long as you'll have me."

"I don't want you only for the game, dear. You see, I've always been fond of fairytales – I want my own happy end, Molly. I demand it. and you will do whatever is required for me to reach it. you will profit yourself from my plans, I promise," the tech explained, a fire she'd never noticed before in his eyes.

"Of course, Jim," she agreed meekly. "If anyone deserves a happy end, that's you, just remember that only contestants' bodies will disappear. I – and the police, sadly – will have to deal with the others."

Jim laughed. "I know. Don't worry, you won't have to work overtime on my account. Not your regular job at least," he reassured, winking at her.

"That's good. Thank you, Jim," she replied politely. Best to keep on his good side. This was a ruthless and maybe crazy murderer. Happy end? Who said such words? They weren't characters on a movie – and her life was certainly no fairytale. But somehow, he was still not so different from her charming, witty, funny friend turned fake boyfriend. It felt odd to say the least.

"Shall we seal the partnership, then?" Jim proposed, finally putting the gun back in his pocket.

She nodded, extending her hand (she had a feeling that she'd be nodding a lot from now on)…only for Jim to take it and attire her flush against him, kissing her lips. She was used to this, of course, but she didn't expect it then.

"I might have seen too much Supernatural," he admitted, laughing. "But it is a pact with the devil you've just agreed to, so it seemed to fit."

"At least it is a handsome devil," she quipped playfully.

"Clever, Molls. Flattery will get you everywhere," Jim replied, grinning.

"Hey, if I didn't honestly think you were good-looking I wouldn't have used you to make Sherlock jealous," she bit back. Without a gun in sight, she relaxed and decided to forget what she would soon have to do. Pretend this was just the old Jim, and all was fine. Until…

"First order," he snapped, "Do not mention Sherlock in my presence anymore."

"Of course, sorry, Jim," she agreed. It had been so silly of her to mention someone he hated. If she didn't remind him of the man, maybe the sleuth would be forgotten instead of murdered for stealing people. At least Molly dearly hoped so.