I know I sound like a broken record but thank you all SO MUCH for all of your lovely reviews and follows (over 100 now! booyah!). If i haven't replied back to all of them, I am so sorry! I really do appreciate every single one of them and they really make me want to write this and write it well. :) I hope I can do that :P Here's the next part!
Somewhere echoing in Molly's head, a clock was ticking, it's constant rhythm slowly waking her up from the darkness that she had been under. She couldn't remember how she had got to where she was or even where she was at all. All she remembered last was being in a cab, waiting nervously as it stopped suddenly and jumping as the door beside her opened, her eyes widening as a cloth came towards her mouth, smothering her and instantly making her feel drowsy. She barely had time to fight back before her eyes fluttered shut and she remembered nothing more.
Now she was in a dark room, lying on what felt like a sofa but she couldn't make anything out yet. The curtains at the window had been drawn and it was taking her a lot longer than usual to adjust to the lack of light. Slowly, she sat up, moving her hand to her head as it stabbed painfully, only then, just as a voice echoed around the room did she remember who had taken her here in the first place.
"Good golly Miss Molly, you're a heavy sleeper." Molly frowned and turned around slowly, still feeling a little dazed. She could just make out the outline of the man coming towards her and she felt all the fear from when she had been in the taxi with him return instantly. "I've always wanted to say that ever since I met you. 'Good golly Miss Molly'. How often do you get that?" He asked, his voice light-hearted and as he neared her, the little bit of light swimming through the curtains highlighted his face, his dark eyes shining.
"Quite often." Molly replied, her voice quiet but surprisingly steady. "Where are we?" She asked, her eyes starting to make out outlines of a television in the corner of the room they were in and a fireplace that sat next to them. For some reason, the place felt familiar to her. Moriarty smiled and the way the darkness shadowed his face made her feel uneasy.
"You don't recognise it? I thought you would." He replied, moving in front of her, still standing as she sat on the sofa. "I did a lot of research to find this place. I thought you might like it." He continued, raising his eyebrows when Molly didn't respond, her eyes flicking around the room, trying to place where she was but the drugs that he had used to sedate her had made her head cloudy.
"Nothing? Well it must look different in the dark I suppose." He bent down so that he was face to face with her, his eyes staring intently at her. "It's your old house Molly. The Hooper family home." He announced and Molly felt her stomach do a somersault and she gripped the edge of the cushion tightly. Now she remembered where she was clearly. "Of course it looks a bit different with someone else's stuff in it but it's still the same place." He added, his eyes not leaving her face as he watched her expression turn from confusion to terror.
"Why -?" Molly tried, her voice cracking. She shut her eyes and cleared her throat. "Why have you brought me here?"
"Well you didn't think I was going to be predictable and take you to an abandoned warehouse or something did you?" He asked, raising his eyebrow and standing up again. "No, that would be rubbish. Besides, Sherlock knows practically every criminal hideout spot in London but this place..." He opened his arms wide to gesture around the room. "This place he has no idea about because he knows nothing about you Molly. Not really." He goaded but Molly wasn't really paying attention. Instead she had her head pointed towards her knees, her gaze fixed on the floor as she tried to control her breathing. She didn't want to be in that house. She couldn't face it.
"I need to get out of here." She muttered quietly and Moriarty raised an eyebrow, bending his ear towards her.
"What was that? Little Molly needs to speak a little louder if she wants to be heard." He mocked in a high-pitched voice and Molly suddenly felt a mixture of hatred and panic flood her and she snapped her eyes up to his.
"Let me out of this house. You can take me anywhere else, just not here." She said, her voice stronger than usual and Moriarty looked surprised but also amused at her sudden courage.
"But where's the fun in that?" He asked, his tone of voice changing to a sinister one and his smile slowly fading away. "You ruined my game Molly. You got involved in something that you really shouldn't have been involved in. I was WINNING!" He shouted, moving towards her face and she snapped away from him so that her back was pressed against the sofa, all courage from before dissolving into fear. "And you came along and ruined it. You ruined it." He complained, his expression and voice changing instantly again as it the outburst had never occurred. Instead, he now looked utterly disappointed, shaking his head at her. "So this is what you get for messing in things that don't concern you and your pleas to leave have just made it all the more enjoyable for me." He finished before standing away from her and walking to the end of the room. Molly quickly span around to watch him and she had no idea what made her speak but when she did, she wished she hadn't.
"He'll find me." She shouted and waited nervously as Moriarty turned slowly on the spot back to face her., his head tipped at an angle "Sherlock will find me." His outline was only visible in the darkness but Molly could almost feel the intensity of his stare.
"What makes you think that?" He asked, his voice quiet and dangerous and Molly stood up from the sofa, backing away from him towards the window as he started to walk towards her again. "What makes you think that he cares enough to find you? He barely knows anything about you Molly. I know more about you than he does that's how I found this place. He won't have a clue where you are because he doesn't care about your life or your past or anything to do with you." He was still moving towards her, his voice low in tone as well as volume and Molly cursed in her head as her back hit the wall and she could go no further. "He used you Molly. That's all he ever does. He lies and lies so that you'll do his bidding. I bet he's not even looking for you because you're just a tool to him." He was now so close to her that she could feel his breath on her, cringing as it brought back memories from when she had thought he was merely 'Jim from IT'. She tried not to let his words get into her head and also began to quickly feel claustrophobic with the little room between them. The lack of light in the room was making the feeling worse so without thinking, she lifted her hand to grab the curtains, going to open them but Moriarty clasped his hand around her arm tightly, painfully stopping her before she could reach it. He stared at her for a few moments, his hold tightening and causing Molly to press her lips together in pain.
"I have to go out now." He said darkly just before Molly was about to consider fighting back. "Now be a good girl and stay here until I get back." Molly gasped as he let go of his grip on her. "Oh and I wouldn't try and leave, I have someone here that will make you regret it if you do." He added, walking away from her. "Ciao." He called back over his shoulder and she stayed perfectly still as she watched him go until she heard the door close and the key turn in the lock. Slowly, her legs gave way and she let herself slide down the wall, her heart beating at hundred miles and hour and her breathing hard to control. She put her head in her hands and closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling carefully to try and calm herself. She needed to be calm, if she panicked, she'd be useless. She smiled as she imagined that that is probably what Sherlock would want her to think.
After a few moments, she managed to relax and she lifted her head up, ready to try and think of a plan to get out but sure enough, as Moriarty had said, there was someone in the room with her and before she could even think of trying to escape, she had become more preoccupied with the barrel of the gun that she was now facing, a hand tipped with red finger nails clasped around it expertly pointing it straight at Molly's chest.
It occurred to me that we knew practically nothing about Molly's past except that her Dad died. This means I can make stuff up and run with it. :P Let me know what you think! :D
