Title: "It's All in the Mind"
Pairing: Molly/Moriarty
TV Show: BBC Sherlock
Word Count: ~1000
Rating: T

A/N: The next chapter will probably be my favorite chapter yet. Oh my god, it's going to be so dark. I am willing to go above and beyond to screw with someone's mind LOL

Um, not much about this. I'm still giving you the details on how she's trapped. Or, where she is.

You know, I'm not making sense.

Enjoy!

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She stared at the door. She used to stare at their bedroom door for nights and nights, waiting for him to come home. See, Jim would never be home at the deep hours of the night. He would say that he had to work during that time—but she didn't understand why. "They need extra hands at the office today," he said, telling her that the IT department was short-staffed.

And she believed him.

It was a bit lonely at night, though, when he was gone. She never had a proper boyfriend to cuddle with at the late hours of the night, when she needed someone. And Jim was the first one that had given her the opportunity! Unfortunately, it would never happen. She would just stare at the door, secretly hoping he would return so she could have someone to hold.

But this was a different door. This was a different room. She sat against the wall, just staring right at the door. She could be able to tell you everything in the room—nothing. The walls were padded, the floor was cement, there were scraps of food on one side and a facilities portion on the other side, and the door was padlocked with three different locks. She wasn't dangerous, was she? No, he was. Why wasn't he locked up? Why wasn't she free?

Oh, yes, because he caught her before she could escape. For a month, they were inseparable—during the day. At night, while she slept, he would sneak away. Some nights she would wake up and watch him leave. Other nights, she would sleep right through and see him in bed, waiting for her to open her eyes. Those nights were the loveliest. Or maybe when she was alone, maybe those were the loveliest—wait, did he ever come back?

She hated those drugs they gave her. They gave her such a headache, and it was always such a struggle to discern between reality and fiction. She asked Jim about some of the memories, but he told her not to worry about them. "I'm still here with you, aren't I? It must mean something to you, Molly dear," and she would comply. How could she beat a beast of the night, a monster in the shadows? So she had to believe what she wanted to believe, to make her survive another day.

But this door, how she wished for freedom. No, she didn't wish for freedom. She tried that with Jim, before and after his presence, and she couldn't do it. She tried to get her freedom, too, and she was locked up. How it had failed, she thought. Molly remembered the night she found out about Jim—this much she knew was certain. She knew that she had received a phone call deep within the night, before the sun would come up. She heard the vibrations on her dresser next to her, the glow illuminating in the bedroom.

"H-Hello?" She rasped.

"Molly," a deep voice on the other line connected. She wished she could remember the name, but it's a blur.

"What is it?" She rubbed her eyes.

"You need to get away from Jim."

At first, she couldn't believe her ears. "W-What? Why? You're not jealous, are you Sh-" Sh. Yes. His name started with a Sh. What was the rest of it? Molly couldn't remember.

"He's a psychopath, Molly." She was awake.

"N-Now, wait, h-he can't be a psychopath! He's such a nice guy, and…"

"Is he with you right now?" She looked to the empty side of the bed.

"N-No, he's never here at night, but…"

"Did you know the IT department does not have an employee by the name of Jim?"

She sat in her bed. "U-Um, n-no, h-he w-works there, y-you're…"

"And are you aware that he does most of his crimes in the middle of the night? Around this time?"

She looked at the clock. It read 4:13. Most of the crimes nowadays had been happening at 4:25. "I-It m-must be a coincidence…"

"Molly, you have to run," the line went dead. Did the man hang up on her? Or did the line go dead because of Jim? She didn't know. She didn't want to know. She had to run.

She had no time to pack. She had to just get out of there as soon as possible, just to get away. Maybe he was wrong, she thought. Maybe Jim had nothing to do with these crimes. Just before she was out the door, she grabbed her purse and a set of keys to her car. She didn't know where she was going to go. Paris? Berlin? Somewhere, anywhere. She was going to go.

She opened the door. A man with a bouquet of flowers stood there, blocking her path. It was Jim, a smile on his face. But this smile was different. It held malice. "Oh, Molly dear, I wish you hadn't had found out this way. Or found out at all," he said to her. How did he know? She didn't know. She still didn't know. He held out the flowers to her, but she wanted to run. She should've taken the flowers, now that she thought about it. But she didn't. And now she was trapped. She made a move to go around him, but he caught her by the wrist and never let go. "You don't want to stay? Have I done something wrong, my love?"

"P-Please let m-me go, Jim," she whispered. Jim tightened his grip around her wrist, and she winced.

"Hm," he hummed, "I don't suppose that's the right answer in this situation, Molly dear. I care too much about you. I need to keep you safe." Maybe the man on the phone was wrong. Jim couldn't hurt a fly. He was just trying to protect her.

"R-Really?" Jim loosened his grip and casually wrapped his arms around her.

"Of course, of course," he whispered in her ear. Yes, she thought, this was the Jim she loved. He would protect her, she thought. But she was wrong, so devastatingly wrong. "Then again, I'm so changeable."

The next thing she knew, a needle was stuck in her neck and Jim was holding her as tight as he could. She thought she was dying, but it was much, much worse: she was falling asleep. And when she woke up, she was in her prison, screaming for help. And he would silence her.