Chapter 7
It was late afternoon before they got to eat the meal Molly had prepared. Hunger pangs drove them out of bed and they chatted and caught up with each others lives as they dined. Sherlock filled her in on the hunt for Sebastian Moran, and the path that had led him to Quantico, and to her. He told her about Michael and how much he'd helped him, gesturing that he was "out there, with the Americans..." which made her giggle. "'Out there' actually is America, Sherlock", and he set his jaw and sighed exaggeratedly.

"That can't be helped, I suppose..."

"Sherlock!" and he grinned boldly at her.

"I concede they've been rather helpful." He laughed and added, "for colonials.." and she spluttered out an outraged laugh.

"Promise me you won't say that to any of them, and, just a gentle reminder dearest, this is the 21st century, not the 18th!" He frowned as if confused and looked at his watch dramatically,

"Is it really?, I slept a lot longer then I thought," making her laugh again. He loved hearing her laugh, especially now, considering how bleak things had been for her, and he smiled fondly at her.

"Perhaps we should have asked Michael for dinner?" she said, and he gave her an incredulous look.

"You're joking!"

"Well he's here on his own," and it was his turn to laugh.

"Have you met Michael? The man could charm the birds off the trees. He won't be lonely Molly. Anyway, were you not celebrating the fact that we are finally alone just a few hours ago?" She nodded and then smirked at him.

"Well, he is very easy on the eye..."

"Molly..." he growled, and she giggled again.

"I'm aware of his similarity to some actor...," he noted, a tad petulantly. Molly popped her eyes and wiggling her eyebrows, she purred "Mmm, Fassbender..," eliciting a spectacular pout from him. Molly grinned and, placing her napkin on the table, she stood up and walked slowly over to him. He tilted his head slightly as he followed her progress. She sat sideways on his lap, hugging his neck while he tried, unsuccessfully, to smother a smirk. Resting her forehead against his she murmured quietly,

"He's not a patch on you, Sherlock Holmes."

"Obviously," he quipped, giving her a quick peck on the lips, and she giggled again, and then hugged him to her, nestling into his neck. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and she sighed contentedly.

"God, I love you Sherlock," she whispered into his ear and he squeezed her tighter, and kissing her neck, he replied,

"Well, you're only human..." and she spluttered, and then laughed so hard her chest shook against his, and he laughed deeply with her. He leaned back and stroking a long index finger along her cheek he said more seriously, "Michael's sorting out a few things for me."

"Oh!" she said, wide eyed, "he's keeping watch on us from somewhere, isn't he?" and he nodded.

"Among other things, yes."

"Tell me?" and he looked intently at her and nodding, he suggested she go into the living room and stoke up the fire while he made coffee. After carrying in their coffee, he settled on the couch and patted the seat beside him, eyebrow cocked suggestively. She smiled widely at him, and plonked down beside him. He wrapped a long arm around her shoulders.

"Mycroft is putting Mary on a plane," he told her. "She should arrive tomorrow evening. We'll be doing a swap. You are getting on that plane and flying back to London where Aoife or Mycroft will collect you and bring you directly to Mycroft's house. Mary will be disguised, as much as possible, as you. Enough to fool Moran from a distance, at any rate. Then Mary and I are leaving here for a romantic break in a very isolated log cabin in West Virginia. Well, along with a lot of armed CIA and FBI agents, and Michael, keeping a discreet distance. The best way of snaring a sniper, Molly, is to trap him in his own net." Molly sat back and stared at him in horror.

"Mary? Mother of a two month old infant, new wife of your best friend Mary? Are you joking?" He frowned at her.

"She's the best Molly, and she doesn't mind!"

"That's neither here nor there Sherlock, and what about John? I bet he bloody minds!"

"He's hardly in a position to 'mind' Molly." She looked at him and shook her head.

"Oh Sherlock, that's not how it goes. Anyway, they never asked you to shoot Magnussen, you made that choice yourself, and she's more than made up for shooting you." She added more softly, "She took out Moriarty's twin, who was in Aoife's house to kill me, remember?" She sat forward to face him and took his hands in hers. "Anyway, your plan is flawed and you know it." His head jolted to her and he frowned.

"Molly...no!"

"It has to be me Sherlock, not Mary, or Moran will not fall for it. Anyway, even if Mary does take part, that's not where her talents lie. She's the sniper, the assassin, and she should be in the woods, hunting him, not sitting idly in a cabin as bait to lure him. Anyway, if you flood the place with agents, he'll spot them a mile away. You know I'm right."

"Molly, I did not leave you here for all that time just to have you placed firmly in the crosshairs now!"

"Oh Sherlock, it was always going to come to this, to use me as bait, we both know that."

"But that's why Mary's coming." She shook her head gently at him.

"It isn't Sherlock. Mary's coming to trap him in the woods and kill him. Is she even fit enough?" He grinned wryly.

"You're not the only one who's been running. She's been lapping around Hyde Park for weeks." Molly smiled.

"See darling? She's been training for this." She paused and then added quietly, "We both have." Sherlock set his jaw stubbornly.

"Not going to happen Molly."

"Well, then your plan won't work Sherlock, and this will drag on and on. You and Mycroft will have to keep on moving me around, and he'll keep on chasing me. It could go on for years, and that is pointless, and I won't be party to it." She sighed and gripped his hand tightly. "Even if I did agree to that, it will ultimately come down to this, to use me as bait, and you will agree to that in the end, because I am right, and there is no other way. So let's not waste any more time Sherlock. I promise to do everything you tell me. Don't worry, I wont be standing at any windows" He dropped his face in his hands and sighed deeply. When he looked back up again his face was the picture of agony.

"I can't Molly. I can't lose you."

"You won't Sherlock. There's four of us and one of him. He'll be tired and he's emotionally involved. He will make a mistake and we will get him. I know it. He is no match for you but you have to snap out of this. If I was any other client you would choose this path. Accept I'm right and start planning accordingly. Please darling!"

"But you're not 'any other client' Molly," Sherlock said firmly, "you are my woman, and you are precious to me. What kind of man uses his own woman as bait to catch a killer?" Molly sighed deeply.

"A pragmatic man, Sherlock." He shook his head though, unable to countenance putting her in harms way. They went back and forth with the debate until he got frustrated and bit out,

"Enough Molly, leave it. I have to think...," so Molly retorted curtly,

"Fine. You do that. I'm going out for a run." She walked into the bedroom and changed into her running gear and he did not follow her. When she returned he was deep in his 'Mind Palace'. 'Ah well', she thought, 'he's thinking about it at least'. She grabbed her keys and her phone and as she pulled out of the drive she contemplated which direction to drive in. She disliked the athletics track intensely. Running around and around an athletics track was boring as hell and it was always packed with other runners. She loved the woods, and its natural running tracks, and she was feeling a little worked up, so she decided to throw caution to the wind. They'd estimated that it would be days before Moran could breach Quantico and she was sick and tired of being told what to do. So, decision made, she drove off towards the site of 'The Body Farm' and the woods.

Michael frowned as he watched Molly pull out of the driveway. Sherlock had not informed him that she was leaving or where she was going. He'd based himself in the house across the street and had almost missed her departure, because he was in the loo. He was just about to turn away from the window to check with Sherlock when he noticed a young man in a track suit jogging by on the footpath, with a German shepherd dog in tow. As the dog ran by a car parked on the road a few houses up, it pulled up sharply, nearly tripping it's owner, and then barked insistently at the car boot. Michael bolted out the door, grabbing his keys and his revolver. "What's the matter with your dog?" he roared at the dog owner, flashing his Interpol ID. The young man looked at him in genuine alarm and his words chilled Michael to the bone. "He's a cadaver dog, man. He's trained to respond like that to a dead body!"

"Call AD McBride right now. Tell him Moran's in the compound. Have you got that?" Without waiting for an answer he turned towards Molly's house. Sherlock flew out the front door and the two men ran to Michaels car. Michael floored the accelerator and the car screeched in protest and then took off at speed, but there was no sign of Molly's car. Reaching a crossroads he jammed on the breaks. "Which way Sherlock? where's she gone?" Sherlock gripped his forehead with his fingers, breathing deeply and trying to control his racing heart. "Sherlock?" Michael shouted.

"The woods Michael, she's gone to the woods," and Michael stared at him incredulously.

"Of course she fucking has!" He tossed his phone at Sherlock as he floored the car again, burning rubber. "Call McBride now! We need all the help we can get!" Sherlock dialled the number but there was no answer. He pulled out his own phone and called Mycroft.

"What's wrong Sherlock?"

"He's in, and I can't reach McBride. Molly's gone to the woods for a run, near the Body Farm and target range. Get a swat team Mycroft, quickly."

"Right. Get after them. Help is coming."

Sherlock hung up the phone and then tried Molly's phone, but it too rang out and he hissed in frustration. She'd put it on silent while he slept. He rapidly fired off a text to her.

'Moran right behind you. Run fast, don't stop. Weave around trees. I'm coming Molly.

Minutes later Michael screeched to a halt behind Molly's parked car. Sherlock flew out of the car and scanned it rapidly and his heart sank in his chest. The boot of the car was ajar. Turning to Michael he said grimly, "he hid in the bloody boot. She actually drove him here. I checked that car this morning and it was empty." Michael nodded as they sprinted towards the woods.

"He must have got in while I was with McBride." Sherlock grunted in agreement. Their path ahead diverted into two. Sherlock pointed right to Michael and as he veered to the left path, he said rapidly,

"Be careful Michael, he's highly skilled, but he's approaching fifty years of age so we have more then a decade on him, and he's carrying a rifle, stupidly, but he is, because he's habitual." Michael waved in acknowledgement and ran into the woods. Sherlock ran with long and rapid strides, deliberately blocking the deep anxiety seeping into his heart and mind. He listened intently for any sounds indicating Moran's position and then his heart clenched in his chest as he heard a rifle shot echo through the woods.