Molly was awake, but she kept her eyes closed because she sensed something was wrong. 'Why am I tied up?' She heard voices. Three males were talking with hushed, fierce, and cool tones a few yards away. 'Who's talking?' Molly lightly sniffed the air, 'Where's Alexander? I can't smell him',she sniffed the air again, 'the smell is very familiar, but...but I can't place it.' She slightly moved her head, in order to figure out her surroundings. 'So, I'm on a sofa—not a very comfortable one—it's sounds like I'm in London, central to be exact...and I'm on the second or third floor of a building, judging by the distance of the sounds of the streets below. Now who am I with?'

"Shut up Sherlock", a voice hissed. "This isn't the time for your suggestions."

'God—god damn it', Molly thought as she carefully shuffled her body to loosen the bounds. Her breathing became shallow in anger and her eyes flickered with tears brimming on the edge of her closed eyes. 'Calm down, Molly, calm down', Molly took a deep breath to compose herself, 'you can kill Sherlock once you're untied—until then...cool as a cucumber.' Molly took another deep breath and she was still, 'Okay good.'

..."Okay, okay, okay", someone said in a low, rushed voice, "first we need to untie her and wake her up, and then we can take it from there", and then he added, forcefully, "slowly and peacefully."

She recognized the voice; a gruff but calm voice, 'Lestrade? How the hell did Sherlock pull Lestrade into this?' Molly heard three sets of heavy footsteps heading to her. She held her breath in anticipation as two sets of hands gently—and awkwardly—released her from her bonds. "Okay", a male voice from above her stammered out once she was untied, "what do we do next?" She assumed that it was John for it wasn't as stoic and cold like Sherlock's or husky like Lestrade.

"Wake her up", Sherlock said, frostily. She could hear him step towards her and could see him motion to Lestrade to shake her awake. "Wake her up now", Molly silently sighed in contempt.

"Um", Lestrade hesitated and Molly held her breath again for two seconds before a firm hand gently shook her shoulder. "Molly, wake up", Lestrade cooed softly.

Molly played dumb as she woke up, "Wha—?" she sighed mellifluously, and her eyes fluttered from the sunlight, as she stretched herself awake. When she opened her eyes completely, she saw Sherlock, John, and Lestrade all staring down at her. "Uh", Molly paused, "hey", she said in a short and uncomfortable tone.

"Looks like she fine", Sherlock muttered, callously, as he strolled away from her to the kitchen.

"Sherlock", John said, firmly like a mother to a child, and sighing in embarrassment.

"What do you want me to say?" Sherlock asked, callously and then faced Molly to say in a practiced, sarcastic tone, "'Oh, Molly, we're so glad that you're alright'." Both Lestrade and John sighed in annoyance and mortification as they looked at each other, before standing up and stepping back.

Molly laid there, with a blank look, before standing up, rather quickly, and almost falling; Lestrade and John caught her by both of her arms, "Thanks", she mumbled as she combed her fingers through her hair. She walked towards the door, trying to get away from the three men in an attempt to have some fresh air. "What—what am I doing here?" Molly asked her arms in the air in question.

Molly was responded with a vacant look from Sherlock, an open then shut mouth in mid-thought from Lestrade, and an embarrassed look from John who was trying to hide himself from her eyes.

"Y'know what? I really don't care", Molly said nonchalantly leaving. "I have my honeymoon to go on", she paused and looked back to point at Sherlock, "When I come back Sherlock, I'm going to kill you", she slowly moved her hand back, smiled sweetly at Sherlock, and then continued to walk away, "Arrivederci", she yelled and waved over her shoulder. She was at the stairs before she stopped and, with a bewildered look, glanced back, asking in a faltered voice, "By the way, does anyone know where Alexander is?"

She was responded with the same expressions. Molly's face fell and slowly walked back into the flat, "Where's Alexander?" she asked carefully, not sure whether or not she wanted to know. "Alexander Oliversson...my husband."

Same response as before.

"Where's my husband?" she asked again, but this time with a stern tone and face. She tried to keep her gaze to the chair in fount of her and the men, but her eyes flickered momentarily to Sherlock, who seemed really uncomfortable in his skin. "Lestrade?"

Lestrade's gaze waned, but he said nothing, although his face said that he had bad news.

"John?"

John sighed, and moving his eyes around the room, said nothing.

"Sherlock?" Molly said in disgust.

Sherlock focused his gaze on Molly, but his usually intense stare was softened and had a hint of pity in it, and he held his breath in eagerness, predicting what she was going to do next. 'She's going to fall and cry...and then I'm going to be trapped in a mausoleum of feelings I can neither understand nor reciprocate.'

Molly entered the flat and started shouting, "Where's my husband! Where's my husband!" By this time, she was leaping and jumping around the room, throwing and tossing papers into the air, and screaming and yelling like a madman (or in her case, a madwoman). She stopped jumping and stared back at the three men; she was breathing heavily, her face was thin and discolored with rage and sorrow, but she wasn't crying, and she was shaking like an old car. The papers behind her fell to the floor like snow.

The three men stared at her in disbelief and shock, "Mm... Molly?" John finally stammered out, his eyes closed and his face turned away from Molly. "We...need to talk", he said quietly.

Molly stiffened her jaw in fear, the hair on the back of her neck rose, and her breath hadn't evened out yet. Off in the distance, a siren wailed.

Q&A

From wawa: "And , what , Moriarty is in love whith Sherlock or is it just irony ?"

—No. Moriarty is mocking Sherlock. The best way I can describe Sherlock's and Moriarty's relationship is to compare it to Batman's and the Joker's relationship. The Joker always "plays" and makes some jokes with Batman before he tries to kill him or whatever. That's the way I see Sherlock's and Moriarty's new dynamic. (And, seriously, the comparison between Batman and Sherlock and the Joker and Moriarty is unnerving.)

(If you have questions, but you don't have an account here, I'll try to answer your questions on following chapters...or you could just create an account, but whatever.)