'John! John!' Molly was frantic; Sherlock had swept from her flat leaving nothing but his violin behind; he'd return to retrieve it, she knew. Right now though, she had to get to John. He had to be okay.

'M-Molly? What's the matter? Have you seen Sherlock?'

'Come over, quickly. As soon as you can!' She was close to tears.

'Molly, I'm sure it's fine, really. I told you, I won't let anything happen to you. Just calm down.'

'I can't calm down! You have to come over right now, please! Please just do as I ask!'

'Alright. Alright Molly. I'm coming over. Put the kettle on, please.'

He hung up. Molly's hands shook as she busied herself with the kettle. John knocked on the door. She wrenched it open and positively collapsed onto his neck, hugging him for all she was worth. She sobbed into his shirt.

'Molly! Molly, what's the matter?' He hugged her back just as tightly. When they broke apart, Molly sank into a kitchen chair, motioning for John to do the same.

'Sh-Sherlock. He said i-if I don't help him fake his death, get him out of the country and then commit suicide, he'll kill you and come after me.'

John took her hand. He looked into her face and said softly,

'Oh, hell Molly. I don't even know what to say. I'm afraid this has become personal… from now on, I have to talk to you as a friend, rather than as a psychiatrist. He threatened your life, that's a huge problem for me.'

'W-what about your job?'

'Screw my job. It doesn't matter that much to me compared to you being safe. Are you comfortable with that?'

'I guess so…'

'I care about you, Molly Hooper. More than I should. We've got to get you out of this.'

Molly placed her hand on top of the one holding hers. She leaned in a little, to gauge John's response. Her stomach dropped as he did the same, they were a hair's breadth away from sealing the deal- and the key turned in the lock. Molly's heart was thumping in her throat as she stared into John's eyes; he was just as afraid as she was.

'Am I interrupting something? Ah, John Watson. I suppose Molly has told you all about me. How I'm cold, calculating…' he leant down to whisper in Molly's ear, 'hard to resist.' She gulped and closed her eyes. She hated herself for realising he was completely accurate. He took her wrist in his long fingers, studying it disdainfully. Louder, he said 'her pulse is elevated. John, poor John… you've really got no chance. And you Molly, well… I'll be coming back. There's something for you to look forward to. Don't lead John on, it's indecent.'

Molly was fuming. She could feel rage rising inside her, a blinding hatred for Sherlock Holmes.

'I hate you,' she hissed, 'you monster. I would never, ever do anything for you. Not ever. You can go to hell.'

Sherlock chuckled. In a few swift movements, he aimed a knockout blow at John and clapped a soaked rag to Molly's mouth and nose.

'Breathe it in, there's a good girl. You'd be amazed at the methods I have for making people do what I want.' Molly struggled valiantly against the arm crushing her to him, but then she slumped.

'…Molly. Molly…'

Molly cracked open an eye. She was in a dim room and groggy.

'John?' She strained her eyes. She caught sight of high cheekbones and bright blue eyes in the half-light. It was all coming back. Sherlock had drugged her; she didn't know where she was.

'John is dead. There's no-one here to save you.'

'Sherlock?'

Molly listened. She could have sworn that was her voice, though she hadn't spoken.

'Not now, Molly… I'll deal with you later.'

'What the hell have you done?' Molly rasped. Sherlock bent down to stroke her face.

'I made a carbon copy of you. She was born from your DNA and a rapid aging process… she's what you could have been. She has my undivided attention and has grown to hate John Watson. She'd do anything I told her to. So, I told her to kill John. You should have seen the look on his face when he thought it was you… it was utter heartbreak.'

'You're a liar… I don't believe a word of it.'

Sherlock stood and flipped on the lights. Before Molly was a large screen with a video link. Sherlock played the video and Molly watched, horrified. She saw herself advancing on John, still in her flat, she noticed. He was teary eyed and pleading with her.

'Molly, what are you doing? Put the knife down. Is it Sherlock? Has he… brainwashed you or something? Please Molly. Damn it, I think I like you. Like, really like you. Say something. Please just say something!'

'Say goodbye, John.'

And then Molly, the real Molly, saw the point of the knife pierce his chest.

'NO!' She launched herself at Sherlock, hands fighting for grip about his throat. From behind she felt a sharp sting and fell limp into Sherlock's waiting arms.