Author: Howlynn
Realm: Sherlock
Story Title: A Statue in the Temple of Mendacity.
Summary: Molly counts. She Promised to help him. But, the reality of saving Sherlock ends up leading to places she never expected. Sherlock needs her again, but this time she must save John.

Character/Relationships: John and Molly would never have noticed each other if he were not dead. The thing is, Molly knows he isn't and she never expected things to get this complicated.

I Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

The driver smirked and nodded. It was nearly one am by the time she tentatively tried the door to 221 and was surprised to find it unlocked. She closed it softly, locked it and sniffed the air. She tiptoed up the stairs and turned the handle quietly, letting herself in. If he was asleep, she would just tuck in on the couch. She let her eyes adjust to the dim light.

He is sitting there, in his chair, with his back to her. "Sneaking into an armed man's flat is a very good away to get shot, dear Molly Hooper."

"You weren't going to shoot me," she says softly taking a single step in toward him.

"True. Why did you come back?"

"Because. In the cab, I just couldn't wait to come back tomorrow. I realized you were right and I don't want you because of him. I wasn't even thinking about him. I mean obviously, we wouldn't know each other if not for Sherlock, but that kiss. Right now my mind and a lot more of me is all filled up with John Watson. I was afraid, that's all. I'm not afraid. Well that isn't…true. But, what I mean is, whatever that was, or wasn't… or might be, I want to find out, even if it isn't anything…I just want to find out, if there is something, and if I came back tomorrow, and you weren't here, I would hate…myself. I'm rambling, please say something."

"How did you know? That I wouldn't be here?" he asks, voice hollow and distant. He raises his hand and in it is his Browning.

"Oh, God." She swallows and she feels a little dizzy, like she's going to be sick. "Does this mean I'm too late?" She has a thousand things she wants to say, but all she can think is he's going to be cruel to her like Sherlock was to him and she deserves it for letting him be in so much pain and everything good she tries to do just ends up as useless as a chocolate teapot.

"Not if you don't want it to be. Nick of time, I'd say. But you aren't doing me much good clear over there."

Taking a deep breath, she slips off her shoes and quietly walks around to face him. He still has the gun in his hand and it makes her nervous. He looks up at her and smiles a little, his finger is on his lips again and the gun is held loosely like part of his hand.

Her eyes dart to it and she asks, "Are you going to put that down?"

"Take off your clothes for me." He says looking at her steady as his finger and the gun slide back and forth on his lip.

"What?" she says, giggling nervously?

"You heard me. I want to see you. Don't take your eyes off me and take off your clothes." It sounds gentle but it is also every bit a command.

"John, I am not … I don't think…"Her head shakes and she sighs, frustrated.

"Are you afraid of me?"

"A bit, I think, yes. Could you put that down? We could undress each other?" she suggests hopefully eyes locked on the gun and how his lips touch it like it is part of him.

"Sorry. New game. Not the way it's going to work. You're afraid of me and that's ok. For now. Your heart's racing. See, there might be one of us in the room who is bluffing right now. It isn't me. I want to know why you're here. You said no. But here you are. You may be here because you do want to be. I happen to think that isn't the case. I think you have been put up to this in some way. I think someone told you, to come back here. I don't think you want to be here at all."

Molly shakes her head and whispers, "I don't know…what you mean."

He smiles patiently, and his voice is clear but gentle still. "I hope that I am wrong. If so, you will overcome your modest giggles and you will look me in the eye and you will take off your clothes to prove you actually want to seduce me. You will probably find my attention and the little bit of danger very arousing. I do. So let me watch, or I will let you watch. You don't have to stay. It's up to you. Forensic Pathologist. So used to the after effects, want to see the process? You can report it to whoever made you come back."

Molly can't stop trembling, he is as calm and sure of his misimpression as if he were noting he'd put too much salt on his dinner. "I know the process. Please…please. Nobody made me and God…how can you say something, so damned evil to me? You're like Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." Molly regrets coming back. This isn't stoking her engines. She is feeling like she may faint or vomit at the very least.

"Noted and no argument in your analogy. You have four choices. You can try to overpower me. Not recommended. You can march out the door, probably the smartest choice. You can take off your clothes. In which case I will immediately put the gun down and we won't give it another thought, probably for hours. That is my favorite, by the way. Or, you can stand there and call my bluff if you want to. This is a limited time offer and the clock is ticking down, only to be stopped if garments hit the floor. You personally, are in no danger, by the way."

"Fine. You are not a nice man and this is not…remotely what I came back for. I thought you might be…"She unzips her dress and with a deep breath she squirms out of it and throws it to the floor.

John smiles and his breath seems to catch. She glares at him and unhooks her brassiere. She puts on her hurt broken kitty face, trying to make him feel guilty. It sort of works as she slides her last semblance of modesty off her arms and holds it against herself for a second before letting it fall. She is sliding her knickers down as quickly as possible and finally she stands before him, mortified, until three little words transform this from embarrassment to something she is sure she will burn in hell for.

"God. You're. Beautiful." John stands and he looks down at the gun for a second before clicking something and dropping it in the seat behind him. He takes a step toward her and his head tilts in appreciation as his finger worries his lip again. "I am serious, Miss Hooper, You are absolutely breathtaking. Why have you been hiding this under such bulky nightmares. Jesus. Jesus, you are so far out of my league."

He steps closer to her and shakes his head in wonder. "I'm sorry. I am an idiot. Dr. Henry Jekyll, reporting for duty. He was the nice one by the way."