Here's another chapter! Happy Halloween! I probably will leave it after this one, and MAY post a story from time to time, but there will be little continuity and probably no more than a two shot arc like this one.

Sherlock followed Tiffany through the street, his hands stuffed in his pocket as she spoke in a hurried, nervous voice. "So what I've gathered is that Jaime is usually walked home from school with his nanny. They were walking and then he raced behind a corner and when she caught up, he was gone. He's been missing for about two days, yeah?" She gave him a file folder from her purse, and Sherlock found that she was surprisingly organized in her investigation for an uneducated dropout. If she had stayed in school instead of listening to her family, she could have been incredibly successful in whatever boring thing she wanted to do. She was still stupid in comparison to him, but smart.

"That's a long time. How do you know he's not dead?"

Tiffany cringed at the thought, her hand automatically going to her stomach, "He's not. Molly doesn't give impossible tasks. Just hard ones. That's how I know he's alive, and how I know he can be found."

"Have you gone to her before?"

"Yes."

"What did you ask for?"

She smiled grimly, "The ability to hate my husband, to leave him, and to have the bravery to do so. I couldn't do the task."

"What was it?"

"Purposely hitting a dog with my car. So I made a new deal, and finding a missing child is far better, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes." Sherlock nodded.

"What did you want? Is your deal helping someone, or something?"

"I haven't made a deal with Molly."

"Oh. Why not?"

"There's nothing I want."

"That's impossible, you know. 'Mortals are always in want.' Molly said that once, and it's true. We always want something, which is why we find places like the café and practically make deals with the devil."

"Molly's not the devil."

"I know." Tiffany laughed, "But she's not an angel either. I don't think she actually cares about the missing kid or me getting beaten, or you and whatever fucked up life has led you to this version of London. Everything looks different now yeah?"

It was true. London didn't quite look the same ever since Molly 'died' it seemed darker and brighter at the same time. He noticed people too pale, walking with shades and umbrellas even when the sun was nowhere in sight. Little shrew like women were selling odd looking wares to the few passerby that noticed their existence. Once, he even saw a short woman with a green face walking among the crowd completely unnoticed. How he never noticed this was miraculous, but it was probably related to Molly's tampering with his memory. That was also something he wished to address and was admittedly slightly frightened of. Molly could alter his entire perception of the world in a heartbeat, and he could do nothing to stop it.

"Yes."

"Molly ain't the only one either. But she says we shouldn't look too hard, otherwise we get addicted to the supernatural." Tiffany gave a big grin, "Now, I've heard 'bout you and I'm wondering if you already know where he is."

"Did the nanny quit?"

"Uh yeah how'd you—"

"I've already read this." Sherlock waved it, "You also put her address, which will be abandoned. She has him, as she has probably formed an attachment to him and had stupidly decided to take him away. Her story was either fabricated or she had an accomplice to make the nanny's noninvolvement more realistic." Sherlock ticked this off in a bored manner, as Tiffany's eyes widened.

"Wow it's true, that blog is actually true."

"Yes." Sherlock thumbed through the papers, "Ever considered a career in police work? You could outsmart most of Scotland Yard with this."

"No…not really. I didn't go to uni and I'm going to be a mum—a single mum soon, so that's out."

"Hmmm shame."

In the end, it took just seven hours for James Foster to be reunited with his family, Sherlock simply prodding Tiffany in the right direction most of the time. He supposed it wouldn't count as part of the deal if he was the one to find the boy instead of Tiffany. Sherlock walked off before he could be recognized, and found himself drifting back to the coffee house that was now etched into his memory. Molly was talking to Raul again when he showed up. The man was agitated once more.

"I—I can't do this, take it back, make it stop!"

"I can't."

"Then let me make another deal!"

"What do you want then, Raul?"

"—I want to stop feeling guilty about killing that man!"

Molly looked down in that book of hers, writing something down, and "Ah yes. Another deal, another payment must be made."

"What do I have to do?" Sherlock slid into the booth behind them, not wanting to interrupt.

"Break up a married couple."

"That'd just make me even guiltier! What else is there? Can I make him come back?"

"Raise the man you killed from the grave? Make it so he never died? Yes. The price of life is very high, I warn you." Molly's tone was so different when she spoke to these people, so entirely serious. She barely broke a smile for Tiffany.

"What do I have to do?"

"Kill someone, and kill yourself with them." Molly read off the paper in a dry tone, "That's the deal. If you and another person die by your own hand, then he will live once more."

"These deals are horrible."

"These deals are deals. Messing with life and death, rich and poor, real and unreal, is an incredibly difficult task with consequences often unforeseen. This is actually the safest way to do so. But remember, no matter what, the strings strangle you because you pull them, not because I showed you where they are."

"…Let me think on it. Can I choose which of those two deals to do?"

"That's perfectly fine. Both are valid."

Raul got up and shuffled from the room, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he went. Sherlock slid into the seat across from Molly. She smiled, "Do you know what you want yet, Sherlock?"

"Nothing." Came his gruff reply, as he replayed the conversation over and over again in his mind.

"James Foster was returned to his home safely. Derek hasn't been seen since Monday. Tiffany was given an eighty thousand pound reward for her heroic actions, more money than she has seen in her entire life, and Lucy the nanny was unsuccessful in her kidnapping of James Foster, therefore she failed in her deal."

"The nanny made a deal with you too? Over what?"

"She wanted Mrs. Hadley Foster out of the way because she has unrequited feelings for Mr. Foster." Molly shrugged, "Silly mortals. They don't realize that the worse they do, the less likely they are to complete the deal."

Sherlock's eyes widened with realization, "Tiffany was a good person with little to hide, but too afraid to leave her abusive husband, but knew that she needed safety for her offspring. She succeeded, and received an unforeseen bonus. The nanny was bitter and angry and willing to kidnap the child she took care of to get the wife out of the picture. Raul killed a man for money so his intentions are blackened as well, but he succeeded, although he is eaten up by guilt and the money probably wasn't as much as he hoped…this is interesting, it's similar to the Hindu and Buddhist belief of karma."

"Karma is pretty close, except for the reincarnation part. Reincarnation only happens when certain spells are attached to a soul." Molly sighed. "Petty. You're all so petty and stupid. It's useless to form attachments to creatures that practically self-destruct. You're all so delicate, and you fold like a lawn chair under pressure."

"Not me."

"Oh you're my favorite type of mortal. The kind who thinks himself better."

She raised her hand, and with it, every muscle in his body seized up and he found that he couldn't move and only produced an "uhh" sound in reply.

"I could end your egotistical existence in less than a heartbeat. Instantly. Or I could slow your heart until it stops beating. Tales of witch hunters and slayers are full of it. A witch has never been killed by a human. You are but a tiny drop of water in the stream of people who have interacted with me. Yes, you're interesting in resisting your nature, but in the end, you are human." She leaned forward, "And I already know what you want."

Sherlock stiffened, suddenly feeling quite uncomfortable, "I suppose you do."

Molly's smile only widened, "But you're never going to ask for it, make a deal over it, are you?"

"No."

"Well then—"

"Why are you cursed?" Sherlock suddenly began to blurt out, and once the dam was broken all the other questions came through "What other types of creatures exist? Vampires, fairies, unicorns, what else? Do chocolate frogs really move? What else can you do other than alter memories, kill me instantly, and practically make deals with the universe? Where do the tasks in your deals come from? Is there any way you actually can die? Why doesn't everyone notice this café? Why am I suddenly seeing green people?"

"Well…your veil has been lifted, so to speak. What humans consider impossible cannot be, therefore it doesn't to them. When faced with it, or ready to accept it, the veil is lifted and suddenly they can see everything else. Uh let's see. Why I'm cursed is a rather painful memory I don't want to recount. If I could die, I would have already, so breaking the curse is the only way out. Practically everything on the internet about witches is true except for the melting in the rain thing. That just stings. Chocolate frogs do move, and a huge myriad of creatures you thought only to be fantasies exist. The short green people are elves. Happy?"

"Not in the slightest. Are you good or evil or somewhere in between?"

"Uhm no idea. I help people—but sometimes I help people do bad things or help them to their deaths…so…actually I don't think my personal morality can be measured on a good versus evil scale. Really it differs so greatly that it would be like comparing good and evil to bacon and necktie. Very little correlation. Now if you excuse me, I have a duel with an annoying witch to attend to. If I beat her, I get her cat!"

"But I still have questions!"

"Meh. Suppose you'll just have to deal then. See ya!" She gave a wave and disappeared from sight.

"Oh wow." The waitress refilled his water, "The last guy she did that to fainted."

Sherlock felt like banging his head against something hard. The more he asked, the more she answered, and the more confused he became.

Poor Sherlock. I love making him confused though. As for my other story, I apologize for holding my finished chapter hostage, it is part of an experiment. The moment I hit 80 reviews I'll post it. If not, I'll be posting it on Monday.

Again. HAPPY HALLOWEEN!