A/N: I have no excuse. It's been a month. It's entertaining my muse comes back as uni starts (gosh darn her). Anyway please enjoy this (short) installation. Accept my apologies also! Pretty please accept them.

Sebastian Moran was used to waiting.

He was a sniper.

It's what he did.

Waited.

He was a patient man and he observed like a hawk.

He watched Molly Hooper, she was an ordinary looking girl - hardly regal or aristocratic she suited the serving life more than that of a society wife. But Sebastian watched. He couldn't bungle this up.

James was relying on him and he hated what James did to people who screwed up. He wasn't going to be on that list.

He waited until night fell. He knew that Lord Holmes and his eldest son was home, no doubt spooked by James' chilling words. That man always seemed to kick things off before they should really start - making his job a lot damn harder. Getting Molly out under the eye of an experienced secret service agent and an underling was going to be tough, but hey he was the best assassin in the British Empire. This is what he did.

.MH.

Molly suddenly found herself under the inspection of all four of the Holmes. They used to pop up every so often and ask a menial task that was often completed by another member of staff before she'd even arrived. Even John Watson kept appearing, asking her for some tea, or perhaps a nice spot of walking to ease the cramps in his leg. Cramps that didn't seem to ail him too much, Molly noticed.

In the end servant or not she cornered Sherlock.

Sherlock had interfered the least, but nothing went past that boy and Molly felt in her gut her secret had been told. It was as she came down from dusting the tops of the library shelves that she found Sherlock waiting for her, inspecting as always.

They hadn't spoken much since their last row and Molly sighed, swiping dust off her face catching her breath as Sherlock's thumb swept along her jaw slowly.

"Dust Sherlock?" She raised an eyebrow and sneezed once. He drew out of his strange reverie and nodded.

"Dust Miss Hooper." He confirmed before holding his hands behind his back.

"You have another task for me sir? Is it perhaps to catch the leprechauns that run over the hills? Or maybe to be away with the fairies?" Molly snapped suddenly, her nerves couldn't take anymore false cheeriness. It was like everyone knew she was marked for death but were determined for her to be kept in the dark. Oh she knew alright; she was only being a servant because some madman was out to kill her. He wanted her secrets dead and she knew who the killer was and that her parents had been the key to bringing down this man's network.

"What do you mean Miss Hooper? Is this not your role? Are you not a serving girl?" Sherlock drew himself up to his full height.

"You tell me." She hissed and at that moment Benedict and Violet walked through the door. It didn't take a secret service agent to sense the tension in the room.

"Sherlock what's going on?" Violet turned to his son who looked surprisingly cool in the face of Molly's anger. But before Sherlock could open his mouth Molly did instead.

"I forgot my place in the face of friendship, Master Holmes was setting me straight." Her voice didn't even crack and Sherlock stared at her. Without another word she slipped from the room and was gone.

"Follow her Sherlock."

Molly stormed from the room and from the house. She scrambled over the garden wall and sat down behind, holding her breath to stop the tears.

What had she done? She had defied her supposed Masters. She was going to get herself in trouble. It was all Sherlock's fault. Damn Master Holmes. She drew in a shaky breath and rested her head on her knees.

.S.M.

She never saw Moran coming.

She never even heard him.

He was an assassin. It's what he did.

Sherlock had ran out the same door Molly had minutes before. He saw the trampled leaves where she'd hurled herself over the wall. So when he peered over and didn't see her dark head of hair he looked wildly around… only to see a diminishing figure in the distance.

"Molly!" The figure turned around. Sherlock squinted and saw they were carrying someone, and the figure was most definitely male. "Molly!" He yelled again. The figure ran on. "No." He gasped and turned blindly round, running for the house.