"And he whispered 'fear is logical',
And he said it's magic, wonderful.."
Molly's heart stopped. He was here. In her flat. Jim Moriarty was sitting on her sofa, arms spread behind him, all suave leisure, like he had sat in that spot every day of his life. As if he owned it. The picture was vastly different from the last time he had sat there, with her. At that point, he had only been Jim, her office romance.
"You," She breathed, "You can't be here." He stood and straightened his suit jacket. Molly looked at his perfect ensemble and almost choked. Dark, charcoal grey, a red tie, slicked back hair… This was not the scruffy and casual man she had known years ago. He ambled towards her slowly, his eyes roaming her face, her body. He rubbed his chin with his hand, watching her.
"You're not happy to see me?" He pushed his lips out in a mock pout, but his eyes practically danced with amusement.
"No, I…" Her voice shook violently. "You're dead. You died the same day Sherlock-"
"Boring," He flinched and bit his lip. "So boring, Molly." Goosebumps ran up the back of her neck. She had never seen him like this. She had never really seen him. "Come on Molly," He took a step closer, "Can you honestly say-" Another step closer. Molly stumbled backwards until her back brushed against the wall. "-That you didn't miss me?" His hand brushed against hers.
Molly jerked her hand away. "Don't touch me." Jim raised his eyebrows and smirked. In a fraction of a second his hands gripped her wrists and twisted them painfully. Molly whimpered. He leaned closer, his face inches from hers.
He whispered in her ear, his breath warm; "You helped Sherlock, didn't you?"
Molly cringed. "No, I-" Jim twisted harder.
"This would be easier if you wouldn't lie, dearest." Molly squirmed at the pet name and fought back tears, saying nothing. Irked, Jim continued; "You know, I had a lot of fun that day. I had guns on Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, John…" He could have been reciting his grocery list. "But I didn't have one at you. Guess I should have. And then you solved a case with him," He shook his head and frowned. "What were you thinking?" Molly didn't answer. She glared down at the floor. "Look at me," Jim ordered, "Now." The threat in his tone was unmistakable. Reluctantly, Molly obeyed.
She had forgotten how entrancing his eyes could be; liquid brown, round, inviting. Their full power was now focused on Molly. How could she have never noticed the shadows shifting behind his friendliness and charm? He smiled, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled. Dread gripped her heart tightly.
"Why are you here?" Her voice was low and shaky. Jim shrugged. His hands relaxed around her wrists slightly.
"I missed you, Molly." He suppressed a smile and attempted to look genuinely despondent. "I came back from the dead, I thought we could have a proper chat. Jim from IT was so ordinary."
"Stop it." Molly shook her head. "Just stop it."
"I thought you'd be pleased," He smirked darkly. Jim's hands slid farther up her arms, holding her upright. "No need to thank me, it was my pleasure." Molly flung her arms out of his grasp and pushed him roughly away from her. He stepped backwards, indignant, but did not attempt to restrain her.
"Stop! You used me!" Molly was shouting now. "Don't think that you can just waltz back into my life after lying to me like that! You killed people, Jim! You lied and killed, you hurt so many people!"
"Darling, the neighbors will hear," He stage-whispered. Molly ran her hands through her hair and wiped hot tears from her eyes. She felt dizzy, and swayed dangerously. Jim caught her by her slim arms and drew her close. Her face pressed against his chest. His arms started to encircle her, to trap her, but Molly struggled against him. He sighed and slid his hand into his pocket. He produced a long syringe, filled with clear liquid. With a regretful frown, Jim plunged the needle into her bare neck. Molly cried out in pain and felt her legs go weak. She tried to stand, but only collapsed into Jim's waiting arms. With an impressive display of his strength, Jim swept her from her feet and held her in his arms like a sleeping child. Her head rolled to the side and rested on his shoulder.
"Oh, you are just adorable."
"You're 'dorable." Her words slurred and escaped her unbidden. The edges of her vision became fuzzy. She heard him laugh, and smiled at the sound. His voice is nice. He carried her into her bedroom and laid her on top of her pink duvet. Her thoughts swam in her head and blended together like a sloppy watercolor.
"Tell anyone I was here, and I won't hesitate to put bullets in each of their backs." He sang the names to her, his breath drifting across her neck; "Lestrade, John, Sherlock." He laughed softly. "I'm saving you for something special. Just wait." Fear seeped into her thoughts and she nodded drowsily. He smiled with animalistic delight, and the sight burned into her vision as she slipped easily into unconsciousness.
Molly woke slowly, her mind rising grudgingly to the surface like a child rising from the bottom of a murky pond. She swung her feet over the edge and rubbed her eyes. I slept in my clothes? She frowned, then got up to make herself some coffee.
While the coffee brewed, Molly stared grimly out the window and tried to recall the events of the past night from her groggy mind. Her phone buzzed from the counter, interrupting her train of thought. A text, from an unknown number. Molly considered ignoring it, but thought better. How would she feel if someone ignored her? As if people don't already. She sighed and opened the message.
About time you woke up. Did you have sweet dreams about me? JM
Molly's blood ran cold. Her memory raced back to her in sharp clarity; Jim on her couch, alive, threatening her. She swallowed dryly. It buzzed again.
Don't you have a job or something? JM
She checked her watch and swore. She was nearly an hour late for work. Hastily pouring a travel mug of coffee, she shouldered her purse and stumbled into the late morning sun. In her hurry, she didn't notice the man sitting across the street send a text and shuffle after her, dropping his smoldering cigarette on the pavement.