-Hey, I wasn't going to continue this story, but someone asked me to, so I figured, Who am I to say no?
Also, I'm flattered. So here you go, more Dark! Molly
Jim from I.T led Molly out of the morgue, helping her take her lab coat off, but leaving the drying blood on her hands. He held the stained fingers gingerly and he walked ahead of her, towards the south side of the city. She should have felt fear, but she couldn't stop her laughter anymore. A few thoughts flickered through her racing mind that she was perhaps behaving in a way that contrasted greatly with sane, mousy little Molly, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
"So, my little pathologist, what's so funny?" The Irish lilt was in full force now, and 'Jim' spoke with almost a sing song voice as he pulled her into a small doorway, shaded over and unseen from the road. She found herself ducking into a rundown flat, with bits of finery strung around as if a rich man had tried to live as a beggar and didn't quite make it.
She forced her voice to stay calm and steady, repressing her laughter enough to answer.
"You are. I told you already. You're so stupid. You and Sherlock both, God, you're already repeating questions." She lost her look of giddy laughter and suddenly had the most passive and blank face that Moriarty stepped back ever so slightly.
"If you're going to be this boring, I'll find other supposed geniuses to play my games with." She said as leant against the wall, her stupid cardigan ripping as it was caught on a hook near to her head. She ignored it, and stared steadfastly at Moriarty as he processed this information.
He was suddenly way too close, and she could almost smell his anger as his eyes rolled over her, his attempts at trying to be more powerful in this situation nearly reducing her to laughter once again.
"I think you'll find I'm less than boring. I'm unpredictable, I'm a good old-fashioned villain, I'm Sherlock's mind, I am Moriarty."
Molly simply leaned in closer, so that he could feel her breath against his neck, she angled her head so she could speak even closer to his face, and said in a falsetto, letting her words ghost around his ear,
"YOU are boring." She pulled back before he could grab her chin, and smirked as he growled at her. She twisted her cardigan out of the hook's grasp, simultaneously moving away from the infuriated man in front of her.
"All of your games, we know the players, we know the acts, we know the aim, the tricks! They are all so dull, so ordinary. Sure, you claim that they're not because they're bigger than what an ordinary person would play, games where all the variables are already known, everything is already solved. It's mimicry of ordinary people's intrigues, their daily lives, and all a great big game that means NOTHING!" She spun so quickly on her heel that Moriarty was taken aback; her frame beneath the mountains of clothing must be smaller and more agile than he had first believed. His rage boiled beneath his skin and he could feel his fingers flicking over the knife in his pocket, a small cut beginning to form on the index finger.
"Oh, a knife, how grand." Molly pouted, now on the other side of Moriarty, leaning against a table that was covered in dust, her arms holding her up, still covered in the now brown, drying blood. She scoffed and stretched, pulling her ripped and dirty cardigan off, revealing a tight button-up shirt underneath. She laid the cardigan down onto the table, and sighed leaning back once more.
"You really are inventive, my dear. How novel, to be knifed in a back alleyway, the poor defenseless woman." She barked a laugh then, so harsh and so loud that Moriarty's fingers gripped the knife, and he hissed as he felt the blade dig into his skin.
"If you were going to kill me, you wouldn't let me keep talking. That was a bluff earlier," She crossed the room, apparently unable to keep still. "The one about finding someone more entertaining. There's nothing more entertaining than you two clowns, acting out their version of the great play, like in Shakespeare's time. I've yet to meet a proper actor, you're all I've got, so please try not to be boring." She turned back to him, a pleading look in her eyes.
Moriarty closed the space between them grabbing her arms and pinning her to him, his knife held in his left hand, lightly grazing her cheek,
"I shall try not to disappoint my dear."
