"The name is Sherlock Holmes and I am the new footman." Sherlock replied smoothly, the moment his name had been said Molly's eyes widened with recognition as the memory of that fateful night returned to mind.
"I am in no need of your service, now if you would kindly lea-"
"He could be my footman." Molly interrupted, shocking both Moriarty and Sherlock out of their small glaring competition.
"Pardon?" Moriarty asked frowning. Molly walked around Sherlock studying his physique and facial features in the process, all of which were damn attractive.
"Think of it as a late wedding present, my love." Molly said seductively, eyeing a slightly troubled albeit pleased Moriarty.
"One doesn't wish to argue with one's queen. Very well, Lestrade!" Moriarty yelled gruffly at a pissed captain who walked up to James and saluted in reply.
"Take Mr. Holmes to the servant quarters to meet Mrs. Hudson and arrange his sleeping area." Bowing Captain Lestrade walked briskly passed Sherlock, muttering, "Come along, then."
Once the two were out of sight Moriarty turned to the table of still confused dignitaries.
"And now I feel it is time we bade you all goodnight. So, in other words," He chuckled mirthlessly, "Get out." His eyes narrowed darkly and the party goers wasted no time in removing themselves from the hall. Though a few did humph loudly while walking past him.
Without another word Moriarty lashed out and grabbed hold of Molly's wrist pulling her towards the main corridor and up the flight of stairs leading to the west wing of the castle.
"Wh-what are you doing? Where are you taking me, Moriarty?!" Molly spluttered angrily, her free hand trying desperately to unhinge his tight grip.
"To where all newlyweds eventually find themselves. You didn't honestly think I was going to marry you and not get something out if it?" He laughed harshly, cruelly even. He jerkily pushed Molly's bedroom door open and flung her carelessly on the bed, his eyes raked over her heaving body with obvious hunger.
"And don't even think I won't use you to my entire advantage." He hissed his hands pulling crudely at his neck tie. Loosening his shirt a little more he advanced upon Molly who crawled as far away from him as she could until her back hit the headboard.
"Don't make this hard darling, you'll only hurt yourself." He purred huskily. His right hand reached to cradle her face but she slapped it away harshly, curling herself from him. Moriarty snarled and whipped both hands out and grabbed both her shoulders and pushing her down until she was beneath him. Molly's brown eyes widened in fear of the beast that lay atop her, his teeth gnashing in rage.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," He growled warningly. Moriarty lifted her up once more and twisted her away from him until she was facing the headboard. He didn't bother with the ribbon Mrs. Hudson had spent an hour tying and cinching around her waist. His fingers were now claws as they ripped the satin from her skin and flung it upon the floor before his mouth attacked her neck and bare shoulder. She could feel the large bulge between his thighs and stomach pressing into her with every thrust.
Moriarty quickly removed his pants as well as Molly's petticoat and stockings, his strong arms lifted her placed her before him as she was looked him in the eyes with fear, hatred, and disgust.
"Oh, don't look at me that way, Dear Molly. Be honored that I'd even look at someone as foul as you." He sneered, Molly's temper snapped and she scraped her finger nails across his face, drawing blood.
"You bitch!" Moriarty swore his hands freeing themselves from her to cradle his wound. "You'll regret that." He snarled, thrusting himself into her.
Molly's mouth was opened in a silent scream Moriarty took her name, her innocence and her being into his own, forcing her to come to him as her body betrayed her and the girl she once was remained no more.
At some point he left her, once it was all finished, most likely to have someone look at the cuts on his face. She quietly lay staring at the ceiling once he'd left, she still was unsure whether she was dosing or in shock. When all remained silent, she extricated herself from the bed and gently felt over herself, wincing when she came across a bruise or injured area. Luckily there was nothing broken or as serious as what she had given Moriarty.
Molly shivered; even thinking his name caused her to quake in fear. 'But it doesn't have to be that way.' A voice in her head reasoned, 'you could just end it all.' She tried to shake the idea from her head but it refused to leave her. It would be nice; she could leave Moriarty for good, and this entire evil world… 'See your parents again.' The voice added.
"Mama." She whispered to the empty room. Standing, Molly walked to the bathroom and turned on the light in advance to closing the bathroom door and locking it. The white, porcelain tub that rose to her mid waist sat to the left of her and she reached over to turn the handles.
Hot water streamed out the hose, filling the tub quickly and saturating the room with steam. Once the cask was filled substantially Molly stepped over the side and slid into the sweltering water. She slowly allowed her body to become used to temperature before sliding further into the water.
Exhaling slowly her head finally dipped below the water line. She closed her eyes and anxiously waited as the feeling of discomfort one gets when one cannot breathe filled her with a burning desire for air. Molly forced herself to remain still and ignore the need of oxygen, her eyesight growing fainter and darker with each second.
"Stop Molly." Molly's eyes snapped opened and she inhaled. Bad mistake. She sat up coughing and spluttering, water streaming down her face and out her nose. Wiping at her eyes, Molly looked around wondering where the voice had come from.
"Feeling slightly unnerved and irked she started to lower herself into the water once more the voice stopped her again.
"It's generally polite to stop when someone says stop you know." The voice spoke, causing Molly's neck to snap forward once again and look into a pair of bored, familiar blue eyes.
Shrieking Molly stood up to clamber away but her foot slipped on a bar of soap and she clumsily slipped sideways and hit her head hard, knocking her out completely.
Sherlock sat slightly confused and puzzled at what had just occurred.
"Well, damn." He sighed. John's nose poked out from under Sherlock's collar and sniffed around before pulling his head out completely. The brown mouse looked down at Molly's sprawled form and back up at Sherlock before whipping his tail at the detective's cheek.
Sherlock flinched and glared at the mouse that jumped from Sherlock's shoulder and in midair changed into his normal, human form.
"You know, for once I'd prefer to not play doctor on your escapades." John huffed, kneeling to look at the unconscious woman's injured head.
"It wasn't my fault!" Sherlock whined in exasperation, his arms spread out to his sides. "How the bloody hell was I supposed to know she was going to react that way?" He argued, crossing his arms and staring pointedly at his shoes that had suddenly become very interesting. John's mouth gaped open like a traumatized gold fish before shutting the together in a thoughtful, notwithstanding anger, purse.
"Well, Sherlock," John emphasized the name, "how would you feel if you were in the bathtub and all the sudden someone appears right before your own bloody eyes out of thin air?" John asked in frustration.
"I don't know, but certainly not the way she would have. It would be illogical." Sherlock mused. John sighed in defeat knowing he'd never get far with the argument.
"Whatever just help me get her back into the bedroom so I can address the wound better." He replied, already lifting Molly up by her underarms, careful not to touch her in an unnecessary way, and nodded for Sherlock to do the same.
Sherlock rolled his eyes but cradled his arms under Molly's knees and lower back help support her properly. John gently kicked the door open and shuffled into the bedroom with Molly and Sherlock close behind. The two men positioned Molly onto the bed before standing back to assess their work.
"We need to dress her." John said suddenly. Sherlock eyed his friend curiously.
"Why? It's nothing you haven't seen before." He questioned. The doctor sighed in frustration and kneaded the bridge of his nose between two knuckles.
"Because it's wrong, Sherlock, morally, socially, and all around wrong. Now help me find some clothes."
After only moments of searching Sherlock rested his hands on his hips in disgruntlement.
"I have no idea where any of this goes." He admitted at which John felt like screaming a few profanities.
"And I suppose you think I should?" He asked in bewilderment. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow, "You and I both know you've undressed far more women than I have, John." Sherlock said innocently.
"One of these days I'm just going to punch you senseless." John muttered, but he didn't push the matter. "Here, I've got a robe; it's simple and will cover her." Sherlock offered the garment and the good doctor took it, slipping Molly's arms through it before tying it around her waist.
"Help me prop her up on some pillows so I can slide the robe down farther and look properly at her head. Heaven help you if you gave her a concussion." He warned. Sherlock didn't argue but smiled softly at his friend's gruffness, doing as he was told.
While John evaluated the dent Sherlock had involuntarily given Molly's skull, the detective placed a small white envelope into the crescent of her hand, barely squeezing it in reassurance, whether of him or for her, he wasn't quite sure.
"Come on, Sherlock, we need to leave." John said, placing his needle and thread away and the cloth used to clean the stitches. Sherlock nodded and his friend quickly changed back into a mouse and climbed Sherlock's legs, torso, and finally coming to a rest on his shoulder.
Not saying a word or offering a backward glance, he swiftly evaporated from the room, leaving a slumbering Molly oblivious to all events.