A/N: I am still struggling with work and life in general but today I made a decisive move to do one thing I loved. I drank a delicious coffee, listened to 'Symptom of Your Touch' on loop and committed myself to finishing a one-shot today. This is that one-shot. I hope you're all well. x

Interim

James Moriarty had not struggled like this in a long time. He was a criminal mastermind whose world was very much his oyster. He could dip his finger into every and any asset pool one could think of – weapons, property, technology, money, information – you name it. Having his own uniquely criminal set of morals also meant that there was never any hesitation to exploit any of these resources for his purposes.

Today, more specifically, this evening – was proving to be the exception.

A small beep started going off, alerting Jim to turn his attention to one of 15 huge screens he had in his office.

Oh. You're back at your desk, he thought to himself, watching the familiar figure pull out her chair before sinking into it. Molly Hooper, pathologist extraordinaire, rolled her shoulders back, obviously knackered, and then began sifting through the papers on her desk.

He had promised not to and yet here he was – watching her every move. With a snap of his fingers, a peon was called into his office.

"The 6:30pm usual, please," he commanded politely.

In a flash the peon was gone. Jim looked casually down at his watch. "20 minutes, tops," he murmured to himself before returning his eyes to the screen. It felt like eternity but 15 out of the 20 minutes eventually passed and just as Jim sat himself straighter and trained his eyes towards the screen, the object of both his affection and surveillance got up abruptly from her desk, checked her watch and began frantically packing her desk.

"Fuck," he whispered.

Before he knew it, Molly had thrown her coat on and left the office, out of range and thereby out of his sight. It took all of Jim's (very limited) restraint not to shoot at his screen when, minutes later, the very same peon strode into her office, delivery uniform in place, with a piping hot takeaway chai latte only to find that the recipient of the gift had left.

Surveilling Molly when they were together had brought her a laugh, perhaps even a little spice, into their time together. When they had agreed to part, he had also agreed not to surveil her anymore. Except, this was proving to be a challenge with each passing day.

With yet another soft beep from a separate device, this evening which had already posed a challenge now introduced a threat.

"Sir, you told us to notify you if–"
"Ready the car." Jim remarked coolly.

As the sleek black vehicle sped him through the gradually congesting London traffic, Jim allowed himself a single sigh. There at his fingertips were all the details he needed to know about this new threat – this new 'face' whom Molly had elected to dine with this evening. If Molly had not forbidden him to, he would have already known their name, their address, their workplace, immediate family members – everything he needed to destroy them just as Jim feared they were about to destroy him.

Feeling vulnerable was most unpleasant. Jim clicked his tongue impatiently and stared coldly out of the window, hoping the light evening rain could distract him from the slow laceration happening inside his chest.

When the car finally pulled up to the destination, Jim barely looked at where he was headed and just barged through the fancy, glass entrance to the restaurant.

"Ah, Mr Moriarty, sir, good evening," greeted the Maître'D, recognising Jim as the elite few who required no reservation to dine at the establishment. Jim nodded, distracted, his sharp eyes darting about the room.

"Your private dining suite is this way, Sir," asked the Maître'D, "Or would you prefer your private rooftop area? We can set that up immediately for you…"
"I'd like a table," Jim interrupted, his eyes still scanning the place.
"Oh, regrettably, our tables are all fully booked, Sir, but your suite…"
"Fuck the suite," Jim interrupted, agitated, "I want a table out here."

The Maître'D had begun to panic slightly when just then, that one flick of the beautiful brown ponytail Jim was looking for came into view. To his surprise, Molly and her exquisite tresses disappeared into the very suite that Jim knew was his.

It was not like Molly to use what was not hers, and even more unlike her to use anything that was his. At least not anymore now that they had separated.

"Sir?" the Maître'D asked, nervously, "Is-is everything all right?"
"I'll take the suite," Jim whispered, finally turning to look the Maître'D in the eye.

With an uncharacteristic roll of his tense shoulders and a sharp exhale, Jim made his way to the heavy ebony doors to his private dining suite. Upon seeing him approach, the two restaurant staff who stood by the doors opened them for him. Jim strode in, fists clenched and his jaw tight, ready for battle.

When the heavy doors shut behind him, Jim felt that aggravating bag of muscle in his chest almost leap out of his throat.

"You made it," Molly remarked, smiling gently at him.

The table was set for two and the nameless, faceless threat he had been trying to pursue was decidedly absent – it had been bait.

"Have a seat," said Molly as she gestured to the space across from her.

Gingerly, Jim sat himself down, his eyes never once leaving her. Had it not been for the overwhelming confusion, Jim would not have been able to control the overwhelming urge to kiss her.

They stared at each other, allowing the seconds to drip by like a slow, leaky faucet. The silence was deafening but was nothing compared to the drumming that threatened to detonate in both their chests.

"I went to the new salon you were telling me about," Molly began, breaking the ice at last.
"I know," said Jim with a smirk.
"So what did you think?" she asked, smiling as she undid her ponytail.
"I thought they did your hair justice," he said, his eyes lighting up as he watched her hair fall delicately around her shoulders.
"They told me it was on the house," Molly continued, "So I suppose I should thank you?"

Jim let out a little chuckle as he moved to pour them both a glass each of their favourite red.

"You know I can't help it," he murmured, deliberately taking his eyes off her and focusing on the wine.
"You shouldn't spoil me like that," Molly replied, amused that he was averting his gaze.
"Well, you can't stop me," he said, looking up sharply.
"I know," she replied, their eyes now boring straight into each other.

A slow smirk crept across Jim's face as he reached for his phone. Taking his eyes off her and looking at his screen, he tapped the buttons he had been itching to tap earlier, unveiling a whole digital dossier of the person Molly had supposedly arranged to meet for dinner.

"Wow, he is definitelynot your type," Jim scoffed in amusement, swiping through the profile of a man who had no idea he had just been used as a pawn in this ex-lovers' game of chess.

"I'm surprised you held out this long," Molly remarked, taking a sip of her wine, "I was expecting to hear about his death or kidnapping on this evening's news."

"Why did you do this?" Jim said, swiping the screen a final time before tossing the phone angrily onto the table.
"Because I know you broke your promise," Molly answered coolly.
"I—"

Jim swallowed hard, mortified that he had just become at a loss for words.

Molly looked back at him, her gaze strong and unwavering. When she saw his wide eyes and the quiet panic they were trying to conceal, she broke into a knowing smile. Slowly, she got up from her seat and walked over to him. Their unchanging synchronicity revealed itself as Jim matched her and stood up right at the moment she appeared before him.

They were but inches apart now, each trying to steady their breathing, keeping their hands perfectly still, parallel to their own frames.

Again, it was Molly who moved first. She raised a tentative hand and ran her thumb gently across his handsome mouth, sending shivers down both their spines. She then leaned in deliciously close and whispered to him.

"If you'd wanted to see me again, Jim…" Molly paused to kiss him lightly beneath the ear. "You should have just asked me."

Jim shut his eyes at the nearness of her cool breath that skirted across the skin of his jawline. Now, it was histurn to lift a tentative hand, placing his fingers so lightly on her waist one would think he were touching a ghost. When Jim had ascertained that this moment was indeed real he tightened his grip, evening out the pressure across his fingers, frustrated at the fabric he felt at his fingertips.

"If I had asked you, would you have come?" he questioned in return, unsure of what appeared to be her change of heart.

His question caused Molly to laugh softly.

"Oh, Jim," she exclaimed, placing two hands against the lapels of his jacket as she stared endearingly into his eyes. "Do you think I'd have letyou keep those trackers on me all this time if I didn't feel differently about things? We bothknow that I could disable them in a heartbeat."

He looked back at her, stunned. It hadbeen a change of heart. Just as his had the moment they had foolishly agreed to part.

"I just hadto see you…" Jim murmured, his other hand now caressing her cheekbone.

Molly sighed into his touch, turning slightly to kiss his palm.

"For a while, I was relieved you hadn't turned the surveillance off," Molly confessed, her eyes soft with emotion.
"You know I would neverbe able to," Jim whispered in return, his eyes glistening with rare sentiment.
"But then I realised…" Molly said, a small, playful smirk appearing on her lips.
"What?" Jim stared back, smirking in return.

Molly moved to kiss him and he kissed her back, both fueled by the torturous months apart from the other.

"I realised…" she said, pulling back breathlessly, the playful glint now in her eyes. "That I wanted morethan your eyes on me…"

There was a catch in Jim's throat as he caught her meaning. Her hand that began undoing his tie confirmed her intent and Jim could not help but grin before pulling her towards him for another kiss.

As they both reluctantly parted for air, they smiled – and properly too – for the first time in months. They both glanced at his undone tie and shared a chuckle.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Jim whispered before moving to kiss Molly again, this time on the side of her neck.

Molly shut her eyes, smiling in satisfaction as she felt the lips of the one she loved against her skin.

"Why did we break up, Jim?" she asked, gently pulling away to look into his eyes.

Jim smiled tenderly, the type he reserved only for her, as he reached to tuck a stray wisp of hair behind her ears.

"Because for a leading senior pathologist and a criminal mastermind," he remarked with a twinkle in his eyes, "We're prettyfucking stupid."

At his words, they both collapsed into each other's arms, laughing and remembering everything that made being together worthwhile.

"Let's promise never to be stupid again," Molly said, reaching for his hand and kissing it.
"Never again," Jim agreed, pulling her into his arms, as they kissed each other to forget all the months that they could not.

END