Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC and/or Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them.
Back in London, Newt alighted from the ship when a man bumped into him, upsetting his suitcase thus opening it just a smidge. The sneaky Niffler proved to be a magical creature of an opportunistic disposition and made its escape without a second thought, it detested the idea of being kept in a confined space. "Not again," the magizoologist groaned as he embarked on the familiar journey of recapturing the beast.
An experienced fugitive, the Niffler agilely darted under the legs of unsuspecting muggles while Newt had to constantly apologise to other travellers, ladies especially, for bending at an embarrassing level and at the same time, dodging hand-held suitcases coming from all directions. To his horror, a pair of gloved hands picked up the Niffler and hid it inside her coat as the creature struggled. "Hush now, you have created more than enough trouble for your master, don't you think?" Guilty, it decided that running away from home was too tiring and stopped squirming.
"High time to get that lock fixed, Newt." The lady arched her delicate eyebrow and remarked with amusement. His shoulders sagged in relief, "You have no idea how glad am I to see you, Molls." She smiled at the response, "I sure hope so. It's being a while since I last saw you, Newt. Shall we resume our conversation in my flat?"
Upon reaching her house, the pathologist handed the treasure-hunting beast over to its rightful owner who after putting the Niffler back to where it belonged, plopped his feet on the suitcase as a temporary non-magical solution to the lock problem. "Still do not like using magic?" The magizoologist enquired while Molly prepared tea and shortbread with raspberry jam filling.
Molly shrugged her shoulders, as best as she could when holding a heavy tray until Newt helped her with it but not before summoning some extremely thick books from the shelves and stacking them on top of the suitcase to prevent it from opening in case there was a jolt of any sort. "You know me, Newt. I would like to use it only when necessary." She filled the cups with hot tea as the magizoologist murmured, "You were always different, Molls."
During her time in Hogwarts, other pureblood students would bully Molly and call her nasty names because her father chose to refrain from the use of magic. His behaviour was thought to be an act of betrayal against his prestigious pureblood ancestry and considered such an unforgivable crime that the head of his family, his brother ultimately disowned him.
That was when Molly met them, Newt and Leta who were already close from the very beginning due to their mutual love of magical creatures and the feeling that they were both outcasts. That was also when Molly fell in love with Newt, not that she expected him to reciprocate for it was clear to her that Newt was madly in love with Leta. Molly buried her affections for him and everything was well until the Incident.
She could remember that they were having a screaming match about Newt being an utter fool for taking the blame when it should be Leta facing the consequences of her own actions and he shouted back, "It's none of your bloody business, Molly! Quit being a busybody all the time!" It was the last time they talked before she left Hogwarts. Prior to her hurried departure, Molly interceded with Professor Dumbledore and earned a promise from their Transfiguration teacher that he would do his best to ensure that Newt would not be expelled.
It was a chance encounter some years later that reunited Newt and Molly which was something that the pathologist was grateful for. Her feelings for Newt did not disappear; he was her first love after all, it simply evolved from a romantic nature to viewing him as part of her extended family. "So how was your trip to New York? I heard from Meena that you caused quite a stir in MACUSA. Did you, I don't know, make any new friends there?"
The magizoologist grumbled, "The two of you are such gossip bugs." Molly shot back, "We are only looking out for you, Newt. You should be honoured that we care for you well enough to ask after your love life." He wanted to evade the question by attempting to answer nonchalantly, "We are merely…friends," and muttered, hoping that the pathologist would not catch it, "I promised that I would return and present her with a copy of my book once it's finished."
Molly playfully slapped his shoulder, "Newton Artemis Fido Scamander! You promised your lady friend that you would board a ship just so you could deliver your book to her personally and you are telling me that you two are merely friends?" The magizoologist tried to explain but failed spectacularly, "You know it's terribly difficult to apparate across continents and it's the way you put it that made it sound like a romantic gesture…" She protested loudly, "Because it is, Newt!"
The pathologist continued in a more serious manner, "No one is saying that it has to develop into a romantic relationship but if you feel that this newfound friendship could truly turn out to be something very special, nurture it and who knows, that lady might end up to be your wife. Some things are worth the wait and effort, Newt."
He then ruined the touching moment by asking, "What about you and the gentleman with the peculiar name?" Molly resisted the urge to roll her eyes, "Unlike you and your lady friend, we are strictly friends," while ignoring Newt's remark of "Pot calling the kettle black." They observed his suitcase made a muffled thud from the inside and the pathologist told him, "You really should get that lock fixed, Newt. We would not want a repeat of what happened in New York."
"Are you chasing me out your flat already? You wound me." The pair smiled at each other and she kissed his cheek, "You may be annoying, Newt Scamander but you are still my friend. I will see you soon?" The magizoologist replied dutifully, "I will see you soon, Molls."
The pathologist was washing up the tea set when a man apparated into her living room. "They would be so disappointed in you, dear niece. You were their favourite grandchild, the apple of their eyes. It was bad enough that you quitted Hogwarts in the middle of your studies but you further soiled our family name by working at a muggle hospital, cutting up dead people."
Molly dried her hands and stared at him. "After Grandpapa died, you condemned your brother and declared him no longer part of the family so correct me if I'm wrong but as his daughter, I have nothing to do with you or your Supremacism notions." Her words infuriated the man as he pulled out his wand and pointed it at her, "It will do you good if you were to show some respect to your elders. That worthless brother of mine had evidently failed to bring you up proper."
"Expelliarmus!" Molly successfully removed his wand and the man's face reddened significantly, "You insolent-" The pathologist interrupted his rage speech coldly, "If you hold to the belief that I rarely use magic and therefore I'm not good at it then you are sorely mistaken. It will also do you good if you were to have some respect for your late brother. Leave now."
The man sneered as he bent down to retrieve his wand from the floor. "Your little lover, Sherlock Holmes, he is a consulting detective? A rather unique profession, I must say and comes from a somewhat respectable family but a lowly muggle nevertheless. It would be difficult for you to sink any lower than you are right now, niece." In a bat of an eyelid, Molly pulled his arm to the back and twisted it at an awkward angle. "Coerce me again and you will find yourself with a dislocated arm, uncle."
The pathologist deliberately added more pressure on the man's arm before releasing him. "And for the last time, I will not work for Gellert Grindelwald. He and his followers will inevitably fail and be punished for their crimes. However illustrious your beloved family name is, it will not save you from a lifetime in prison. If you are not going to cease in your wrongdoings, I will be inclined to stop you myself."
The man shook his head mockingly. "Tsk tsk, you are possibly the most talented witch our family ever produced and look at you, throwing away the beautiful gifts that you were born with. What a shame, what a waste." He disapparated while his spiteful words lingered on like a horrible stench, "You might be able to stop me if you were not so fearful of magic. You are just as weak as your pathetic father."
Young Molly was playing a game of Imagination by herself when she came across a stick that somehow got caught behind a cabinet. Curious, the child dug it out and started playing with the stick. She was pretending to be a witch. Her mother saw how dangerous it was and tried to take back the wand. However, the child was immersed in her game and refused to hand it over. The next thing Molly knew was her mother lying on the ground, gasping in pain.
Molly's father heard the commotion and rushed into the room. She would never forget her father's expression when he looked at her and cried, "What did you do?!" From that day onwards, magic became a taboo subject in their household. At eleven years old, Molly received her acceptance letter and the primary reason she went to Hogwarts was to learn how to control her magic. Molly's father respected his daughter's decision. For Molly to move on with her life, she needed to face the demons from her past.
When the school informed Molly that her father was dying, she immediately applied for leave to stay by his bedside. "Be brave, my child. Don't blame yourself, it was an accident." Those were her father's last words but unfortunately it was not entirely the truth. She ended her mother's life and her father was trying so hard to live for Molly's sake but it was all too much for him, losing the love of his life and knowing that their daughter took her away from him. She was the cause of his death, like how she was her mother's.
After her father's passing, Molly did not go back to Hogwarts. She would follow in her father's footsteps and saw no point to carry on with her education in Hogwarts. Was it a self-imposed punishment for killing her parents or a convenient excuse to remain a bloody coward? It did not really matter, did it? She had simply forsaken herself.
"You are no better than your uncle, Molly." The pathologist laughed harshly at herself.
Author's note: That was darker than I intended but I know Sherlock would help Molly with her inner demons. Thank you so much for reading and hopefully I will see you soon, goodbye for now!