Molly rolled over at the sound of her name. She was lying on the wooden floor. Her side hurt and her mouth felt dry. She looked up to see Jim already dressed looking down at her.

"Molly. Get up, Molly. Sherlock should be here soon," Jim said. "If you hurry you have time to shower first." Molly climbed to her feet and walked slowly to the bathroom. She locked the door.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red and her hair matted on one side. She removed her hair band and wet her fingers in the sink before running them through her hair to straighten it.

Behind her, hanging on a hook, was a pale, blue dress. It was pretty like a princess might wear with a high collar and satin-covered buttons. She knew that it would fit her perfectly. It would make her look the perfect damsel in distress. She decided against wearing it. Jeans and a jumper suited her better. They helped her to remember who she was.

Molly wasn't a princess. She wasn't a victim either. She was a doctor, a professional woman, and a bloody fool. She had released James Moriarty back into the world, and she had better damn well fix it.

She thought of the scars on Sherlock's back. She wouldn't let that pain be for nothing. She had to think of a way to stop Jim. She tied up her hair and washed her face. Then she looked at the door and lost all of her resolve.

"Maybe I should just stay here until this is all over," she said quietly.

A few seconds later, the door popped open, and Jim Moriarty rolled in.

"Did you really think that you could lock me out?" he said.

Molly picked up a ceramic soap dish and swung it at his head but he caught her arms.

"Molly dear, you had all night to bash my head in. Let's not play games now. You can't get out of this room unless I let you out. So put that down and come with me to meet your ...crush."

Molly put the dish down and turned away. "Sherlock Holmes is not my crush," she said. "You almost make it sound like you're jealous."

"I am jealous," Jim said.

Molly turned to look at him.

"I can't understand it. You've always had a thing for that gaunt virgin. How can you want him when you have me? It's the legs, isn't it? What if I cut them both off? Would that change how you think of him?"

"Why did you bring me here? Why didn't you leave me behind in that office? My usefulness is over now, so why not dispose of me?"

Moriarty shook his head. "Oh poor little Molly, you look so cute when you despair. I wouldn't leave you behind. I forgot you once before, and Sherlock used you to defeat me. Now you are mine, my very own good luck charm. I staged this confrontation in part to show Sherlock that I own you now. To show him that he has truly lost."

"Don't hurt him."

"I don't plan to hurt him. I plan to kill him."

"But why? With your resources he can't possibly be a threat."

"Not a threat?" Moriarty said his voice rising in volume. "Sherlock Holmes, not a threat? One man, virtually alone, dismantled my entire network, and you think he's not a threat! No one would believe a word I said if I left him alive. Sherlock Holmes must die!"

He reached for a dial on his chair and lowered the volume. "Don't worry, after I kill him, I'll give you a treat. How about that trip to Paris that you wanted? And for me, I'll give you matching anklets to go with the bracelets that I made for you." He leered at her, and she backed up against the counter just as two men entered to escort them out.

The room that they entered looked like a ballroom. It had a white floor and a high gilded ceiling that was needlessly ostentatious and just a few steps shy of tasteful. What made it even more gaudy was the stage. Jim rolled up the ramp and motioned for her to sit beside him in a chair placed there for the purpose.

One man lifted the gag toward her mouth, but she begged, "Jim. Please don't make me use the gag. It's so uncomfortable."

"But dear, I don't want you distracting me when I talk to Sherlock."

"Please!" She said coyly hoping that she had some ability to manipulate him as well.

Jim frowned at her, but then relented. "If you wish, but if you speak once he enters the room without my express permission, then I will kill Tom."

"Tom!"

"I had planned on killing him anyway, but I know that you have a soft spot for pets."

One of the men pushed her down into the chair and placed her cuffs against the metal surface. Then a muttered noise came over a radio and the men walked off of the stage, one went toward a North door, and another toward the South.

Molly slid her wrist shackles across the metal arms of the chair to find that they weren't attached very tightly. The chair must be made out of the wrong type of metal. She could move! She put her arms firmly against the chair, hiding her advantage until it she could use it.

The men stepped out of the room to guard the doors, and they waited. She was too afraid after hearing his threat to say anything, so they sat in silence for several minutes. Then, Moriarty pulled out his phone and started playing a Beegees song. Molly turned her head to stare at him.

"What?" he asked defensively. "Would you have preferred ABBA?"

The door opened then and Sherlock strolled in, hands behind his back. He glanced around the room briefly before walking slowly toward, what she had begun to think of as the throne. Sherlock stared at Jim's tie and then his eyes flicked over to regard Molly. She realized that Jim was wearing her scarf just as he had the day before. She looked back at Sherlock and blushed.

Jim grinned. "Welcome Sherlock. Thanks for accepting my invitation."

"If by invitation you mean kidnapping my friends and their wives, then you have a poor understanding of hospitality."

"I notice that you don't count Mary as a friend. Realized that she was mine, did you?"

"Not really yours though, is she? Not anymore."

"I suppose you're right. She has gone a bit... independent. But don't worry. When it is proven how she killed a man in cold blood, she'll go to prison for murder. I have the witnesses and the gun all ready. It's not even a lie, although I must say that I don't have much respect for the British legal system if they let you out after killing Magnussen in cold blood. Bravo! on that by the way. That man had no class. And the power vacuum that you created allowed me to accelerate my plans by eight months. You can't believe how fast the money rolled in once I revealed that I was still alive."

"Is that how you were able to buy his flat."

"Buy? Oh this was a gift from his shareholders. This way, the transition of power is seamless." Sherlock had been walking slowly forward, but he stopped about ten feet from the stage. Jim was leaning forward to look down on him, glee evident in his face.

"Did you like my message?" he asked.

"Like?" Sherlock said. "I don't like anything that you do."

"Liar!" Moriarty yelled.

Molly watched the drama unfold while sitting back in her chair wondering desperately what she could do to help. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She noticed John was behind them lowering a larger man down to the ground. Her eyes darted toward Sherlock, but he was carefully not looking behind them, and Moriarty was so engrossed with his argument with Sherlock, that he had eyes for nothing else.

John was here. Sherlock must have gone to rescue him first, and the two of them had come to confront Moriarty. John had the man unconscious on the floor, and he quietly started to close on Jim. Sherlock turned and began walking away to draw Jim's eye while John braced his arm on his knee and aimed his gun at James Moriarty's head.

In another few seconds, John would shoot Jim. But she knew that Jim had concealed a gun in his chair. His hand was on the trigger. He would likely still kill Sherlock even if he was hit.

Molly didn't want Sherlock to die. She didn't want Jim to die. She rose to her feet and slapped her wrist against the back of Jim's chair, then she pushed. The chair rolled off of the lip of the stage, but being stuck to Molly's wrist, the back legs stayed on the stage. The chair tilted over the edge though, so that Jim fell off of the stage and onto his face. A large bang going off as he triggered the gun on his way. Sherlock was in the air leaping aside to avoid the bullet while John was sprinting toward Moriarty.

Molly landed on her stomach, the chair dangling from her manacles until the front wheels hit the ballroom floor. Moriarty rolled to his side and glared back at Molly, but stilled as he felt the cold steel of John Watson's gun against his temple.

"There will be no coming back from this wound," John said to Jim moments before the police rushed into the room.

Sherlock searched the chair removing the gun and a knife before Jim was placed back into it.

"Well, you took you sweet time..." Sherlock began as Greg Lestrade walked up to Molly with a serious expression and said, "Molly Hooper, I am arresting you on suspicion of fraud, attempted murder, aiding and abetting a known criminal..."

John stepped forward, "But Molly was being held by Moriarty!"

"I have my orders," Lestrade said, and an officer took her arm and escorted her to the police van.