A/N: Story #2, a bit of a Robin Hood AU. Rated T for some violence and a teeny bit of blood.

"You have no proof!" she cried, tugging futilely at the hard grasp trapping her wrist.

"I have all the proof I need," he said with a leer. "Your name whispered in my ear, your presence in my chamber today - oh yes, Lady Margaret - my dear, dear Molly - I have all the proof I need of your complicity. This so-called 'Robin Hood' will no longer be a threat once I've used you to trap him."

Moriarty's dark eyes, that she'd once found compelling, glittered with evil glee. Molly looked despairingly toward the room's narrow window...and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the dark, hooded figure crouched upon the narrow stone sill.

"Wrong again, Moriarty," the beloved voice called out.

Her captor whirled to face the figure, face flushed with fury. "Very clever, you followed her, or did you arrive here first, to try to thwart her attempts to seduce me into an indiscretion she could use against me? Either way, this ends now...Sherlock."

Molly stifled another cry at the sound of Sherlock's name on their mutual enemy's lips; how had he found out, or had he known all along? It wouldn't surprise her, she thought bitterly, knowing how his lordship enjoyed toying with his prey before making the kill.

Of course, it wasn't usually his own well manicured hands that were dirtied by such doings; no, his faithful guardsman and cadre of assassins usually took care of such things for him. None of them were present now, even though all he had to do was call out to them. But he believed he had the upper hand; he wrenched Molly closer even as her thoughts brought her to that conclusion, and she went absolutely still at the feel of a sharp blade pricking the skin under her throat.

Sherlock stepped into the room at a leisurely pace, as if he had all the time in the world and no worries to speed his steps. He spared only a glance for Molly before visibly dismissing her to focus on Sir James. "Molly is a pawn," he said with a careless shrug. "Kill her or don't, it doesn't matter to me." He raised his sword, pointed it at Moriarty. "All I care about is bringing you down, villain, for the crimes you've committed against myself, my family, and the crown."

"And the good people of Sherwood?" Moriarty sneered. "Don't forget them, 'Robin Hood'."

Another careless shrug. "Caring about the rabble makes a good cover for a man who doesn't want his personal vendetta to be known. By the way, Moran is dead, and my brother's rounded up or silenced the rest of your assassins. Whether I kill you or not, it's over." He gave Molly a cool look. "So sorry about this, Lady Margaret," he added with the most insincere smile she'd ever seen him - or any man - wear. "But you're not exactly the one who matters most."

With a soft moan Molly went completely limp. She dimly heard Moriarty curse as her body slipped to the floor. She remained in a crumpled heap, feeling blood oozing from the shallow nick his blade had caused, heard her heart pounding and the sound of thumps and clashing steel and then, oh! the high pitched cry of a man mortally injured.

The only question was, which man had it been?

Someone thumped to their knees beside her; she heard the sound of a sword clattering to the stone floor beside her, and raised her head. "Molly!" Sherlock cried, lifting her into his arms and cautiously tilting her head back so he could more closely examine her wound. "That bastard, I'd kill him again if I could, for this indignity!"

Molly smiled and threw her arms around him. "Hush, love, it's only a flesh wound, hardly worthy of a bandage. Twas my own fault for not reacting quickly enough to your signal."

That signal had been the message they'd arranged while completing the night's plans. Sherlock had objected to using her, but Mary was heavily pregnant and John was injured and, as Molly had pointed out, Moriarty had no interest in taking either of those two to his private chambers. No, it was Lady Margaret he'd sought to woo and eventually wed, in order to gain control of her family's fortunes.

"You reacted more than quickly enough," Sherlock countered. "I should never have put you in such danger, I'm sor-"

Molly silenced him with a kiss, which he returned with equal fervor. When the kiss ended, Molly said, "Enough talking for now, dearest; there's only a little time left for us to make our escape. Shall we?" She gestured toward the window and the rope that Sherlock had used to descend from the roof.

He smiled down at her. "Practical as always, my lady - one of the many reasons why I, much against my wishes, fell so heavily in love with you." He swept her into his arms for an exuberant hug, then carried her, laughing at his antics, to the window. "Hold tight to my shoulders," he instructed her, "else it will be a very long fall to the bottom of Reichenbach Tower!"

She took position and kissed his cheek. "Then I will maintain as strong a grip on your body as you have on my heart, Sherlock!"

With a cheeky wink, he stepped out of the window and took them hand-over-hand up the rope and from there to the temporary safety of the roof. Moriarty was dead; Sherlock, Molly and indeed the good people of Sherwood could all breathe a little easier now.