AN: First, I apologize for the delay. I know I promised this would be up sooner, but Nephy and I weren't able to work on it when we thought we could.
Second, we may have thrown in a big plot twist...
Thanks for reading, tell us what you think!
-Allie and Nephy
Chapter 7:
Sherlock freezes at the glint of the silver knife. His blood runs cold. No. Not again. No!
It's The Pool all over again in his mind.
But he has to focus. Needs to focus.
He can't let John go back to the hospital because of him. Ever. Again.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He growls at the woman he can barely see.
She has the gall to laugh. "I've waited for this for 8 years. There is no way my revenge will not be fulfilled."
Sherlock tenses as a flood of memories wash over him at the sound of her voice.
Oh, God no. Please no…
The napper says something to Sherlock, but John doesn't hear it. He isn't paying any attention at all to Sherlock. He can only feel the knife against his throat.
The soldier in John knows he's stronger than the woman. He knows he can get away, he knows he can wrestle the knife out of her grasp. But she's holding the weapon so firmly against his neck. The edge stings against his skin, just breaking the surface. If John moves even a little…
So he sits, still as he can, and waits for the moment the napper's grip relaxes.
Sherlock's eyes momentarily flick to John, just like they did back at the Pool, then they quickly move back to the Napper. He needs to buy John time…and distract the Napper.
"Why now?"
"Oh, Sherlock…" She says, her voice sickeningly sweet. "I'm sure you've already figured all that out. You know I'm not nearly that stupid." She moves her face a little, her lips now visible above John's shoulder, red lipstick staining them, her white teeth very close to John's exposed neck.
"Molly Hudson, alias Molly Hooper. Younger sister of James Hudson, Martha's deceased husband. Idolized him. He could do nothing wrong in your eyes." Sherlock's eyes darkened as he deduced. "Then he murdered three men for drugs in Florida. When he was caught he was sentenced to death. Eight years ago, he was put to death by lethal injection."
"Very good, Sherlock." Molly says, her face coming to light.
"But why now? Why Mrs. Hudson? She had nothing to do with her husband's execution."
"Oh no, Sherlock. She didn't." Molly twists John around in her arms so that his face is very close to hers. "And neither did your…pet. Though this is a bonus I must say. No, no, no, Sherlock. This is between you and me. Mrs. Hudson, John, even Jim…they are all chess pieces in our game…pieces to be taken and pieces to be killed…"
For a moment John forgets there is a knife at his throat.
Molly? This whole time, it was Molly?
John can't believe it. He wouldn't believe it if someone told him. But, her face is right in front of him. He can see the gleeful look in her eye. She is ready to kill him.
She's a damn good actress, John thinks. All this time, appearing to be normal, pretending to be completely infatuated with Sherlock. She did always seem a bit… off.
But he can't figure out why. Why is she doing this?
And then John remembers.
"You stopped her husband from being executed?"
"Oh no, I ensured it."
Molly was never seeking revenge against Mrs. Hudson, but against Sherlock. It's all been to get to Sherlock. To get under his skin.
John snaps back into reality as the knife momentarily digs deeper into his skin. But then, the pressure is suddenly gone as Molly twists him back. This is his chance.
His hand grabs her wrist and twists the knife out of her grasp. It falls in his lap. In one fluid motion he yanks himself from Molly's grip and stands, knife in hand.
As if mind-linked, the moment John moves out of Molly's grasp, Sherlock is in motion.
By the time the knife drops into John's lap, Molly's back is pinned to Sherlock's chest, arm behind her back at an uncomfortable angle and his other arm wrapped around her neck.
"You went too far," Sherlock hisses. "John and Martha are not pieces to a game."
Molly chuckles. "For a Sociopath, you care a lot about your…pets."
Sherlock's jaw clenches. He doesn't say a word, but the grip on her arm tightens enough to make her face twist in pain.
"I'm not his pet," John states calmly, but firmly. He's grown rather tired of being called Sherlock's pet. "I'm his friend."
Molly sneers, "You're a fool John. I've seen the way you follow him, like a lost puppy. But one day he'll grow tired of you and-" she stops suddenly and winces.
John glances at Sherlock. Anyone who didn't know him would think his expression was impassive. But John can see the way his jaw is clenched, the cold anger in his eyes.
"Sherlock," John says quietly, to calm him.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoes up the stairs.
Sherlock barely hears John say his name. Blood pounding furiously in his ears.
How dare she! How DARE she say that about John!
His grip on Molly is like a vice when the door to the flat burst's open to reveal Lestrade.
Good. He got the message. Sherlock practically sneers in his mind, his temper still boiling over about what Molly had said.
Lestrade's eyes are wide when they lock on Molly. "Molly Hooper?"
"Yes." Sherlock says, his voice hard and robotic. "More accurately: Molly Hudson. The Palm branch Napper."
Lestrade's eyes darken and his lips thin into a dangerous line. "Can you prove that in court?"
For once, Sherlock knows that his usual brush off isn't going to work. In fact, he doesn't even WANT to brush this incident off. Like with Jim, this has come way to close for comfort.
"Without a shadow of a doubt."
Sherlock's voice is so hard and so furious that Molly legitimately shivers under the sound of it.
Lestrade nods and swiftly arrests Molly Hudson on 6 accounts of kidnapping and assault, and two accounts of murder.
Before they haul Molly away, Sherlock walks over to her, storm eyes raging with a furry so deep that any mortal man would tremble under its wrath.
"Where. Is. Moriarty?"
But Molly Hudson did not say a word. She just smiled and was taken away.