Hello everyone! Thanks to all of you who are reading this and thanks to my wonderful beta for being amazingly amazing, heh. As always I own nothing, unfortunately.

Feel free to leave a review~

Enjoy!~

Chapter 6

Molly sat at the picnic table, eating what she could say was one of the best fish and chips she had ever had; and they'd been free too! The man who owned the place had once got help from Sherlock, via some spell to allow him the ability to always catch good fish, no matter the weather or the season, or something like that. Molly had honestly drowned out the man's chatter once she had taken her first bite of the delicious fish.

She could hear Sherlock and Wiggins bickering a few meters away. The wizard had taken the opportunity to teach Wiggins a few spells and the young apprentice was ecstatic. Molly could see how excited the poor boy was to be spending some actual time with Sherlock. He was always stuck back at the castle or running errands with her. He clearly missed Sherlock, missed spending time with him, and from the smile Sherlock was forcing to conceal, he also missed spending time with the young apprentice. A soft smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she watched them. When the two weren't yelling at each other, they were actually a bit sweet.

"I did it! Did you see that, Master Sherlock!?" she heard Wiggins shout in excitement. Sherlock chuckled and nodded.

"Good – good! Why don't you show Molly your new spell?" replied the wizard.

Wiggins looked over at the older woman and waved to catch her attention.

"Molly! Molly! Come look at the new spell I learned!" he yelled.

Molly giggled and slowly got up, making her way to the wizard and the apprentice.

xXx

As she walked over to the small clearing where the two had settled to practice their magic, she realized how much easier it had gotten for her to walk and move around. She no longer felt like an eighty year old woman, but she still looked old, well—not as old as she did. There was times where she did feel older and weaker, but other times she'd feel more energized. It made her wonder if the others could feel it too.

Wiggins ran around her like an excited puppy before he took a hold of her hand and dragged her towards Sherlock.

"Billy!" she scowled, "give an old woman a break."

Wiggins laughed and let go of her hand before settling in front of her and Sherlock.

"Sorry! Sorry!" he told her, "I just really want to show you!"

Molly giggled and looked down at the boy with amusement.

"Alright, show me," she mused.

Wiggins parted his legs slightly in an attack stance, causing Molly to look at Sherlock with a confused look. Sherlock met her look with a shrug and turned his attention back at the boy. Wiggins took a deep breath and wiggled his fingers.

"Magnoliophyta!" he shouted.

Molly stood still, waiting patiently for something to happen. She opened her mouth to ask what the point of the spell was, when she saw dozens of flowers blooming at her feet. Molly let out a soft gasp as she watched the flowers, all of different sizes and flowers appear from the ground.

"Billy," she gasped, "these are beautiful!"

Wiggins grinned proudly as he continued to wiggle his fingers, causing more flowers to bloom.

"You'll be a great wizard one day," she praised at the little boy.

Wiggins stopped moving his hands and smiled widely. "You really think so!?"

Molly nodded.

"You might even be better than Master Sherlock," she teased lightly.

Sherlock let out a scoff.

"That's unlikely," he muttered under his breath.

Molly scowled at the dark haired wizard, who in return picked a flower from the ground and handed it to her. Molly's scowl quickly turned into a blush as she accepted the flower.

"Thank you," she said meekly. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but a voice interjected first.

"Aw, do I get a flower too?" purred a feminine voice behind Molly.

Sherlock looked over Molly's shoulder and frowned. Molly slowly turned around and saw something that caused her to step back, her chest tight. The Witch of the Waste herself, Irene Adler.

Sherlock shot a glance at Wiggins and Molly.

"Stay here," he ordered. Wiggins settled beside Molly as they watched Sherlock walk over to Irene.

"I hate that woman," she heard Wiggins say quietly.

Molly continued to watch Sherlock, her gaze glancing over at Irene who was staring at her. With a grin, she shot her a wink, causing Molly to furrow her brows.

"Me too," she replied, looking back to Wiggins and taking a hold of the young boy's hand. "Come on, let's go finish our lunch."

Quickly, she led him as far away from that woman as she possibly could.

xXx

Sherlock stormed up to Irene, coming to a halt in front of her.

"What do you want?" he hissed.

"My, that's no way to talk to an old friend."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"We're not friends," he remarked.

Irene ignored him and looked past him at Molly and Wiggins.

"Oh, did I interrupt a family outing?" she asked with a grin. "I must say what a strange little family you have, Sherlock. An old woman and a little orphaned boy, quite the bunch."

She glanced up at him and giggled. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Don't bring them into this. How did you find us?"

"Oh, I have a few little demons around town looking for you."

He remembered what Billy and Molly had said.

"Should have known they were sent by you." he said with a smirk.

"You should know me by now."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Why are you here?"

Irene continued to ignore his words and placed a cold hand against his cheek.

"Oh, Sherlock," she cooed, "don't forget about the curse I put on you."

Sherlock wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her away from him.

"How can I forget when you're constantly reminding me?" he scoffed.

Irene laughed. "Do I really do that?" She gave him a pout. "That doesn't sound like something I'd do."

Sherlock huffed. He always forgot how much he truly detested this woman, but each time she showed up, something always happened to make him remember.

"What do you want, Irene?"

"I've heard talk about a Wizard by the name of Moriarty," she began.

Sherlock seemed to perk at the name. "Oh? And what about them?"

Irene fumbled with the button of his shirt and glanced up to meet his eyes. "I heard he's been a bit naughty – making this war even more annoying than it already is."

Sherlock stared at her carefully. "So you just came here to tell me about this wizard?"

"No," she said playfully.

"Then what—" he began.

"Oh Sherlock, stop being such a damper. The reason I told you is because I need your help."

Sherlock sighed and nodded, urging her to continue.

"There's this woman," she began. "Her name is Janine – she claims to know who this Moriarty is and where to find him."

"But?" he added.

"But she refuses to make that information known," she told him. "I've tried everything to get her to talk – spells, potions… I even flirted with her and nothing!"

"And why are you telling me this?"

"She didn't seem really interested in me," Irene said simply. She leaned in and gave him a flirtatious smile. "Maybe she'll like a dark haired, blue-green eyed wizard instead?"

Sherlock let out an annoyed huff. Irene tried again.

"I want this war over as much as you do, Sherlock."

Sherlock locked eyes with her.

"You haven't reported in?" he asked her.

"I have not."

"You can get in a lot of trouble for that," he said.

"You're one to talk," she replied with a grin. "So you'll go pay her a visit?"

"Do I have a choice?" he asked, clearly bored.

"No – but maybe you'll have better luck than I did." She waved her hand lazily and a black piece of paper appeared in her hand with Janine's information written elegantly in silver. Sherlock took the paper and looked it over.

"I should leave before your girlfriend gets jealous," she said in amusement. "I didn't know you like them so – old."

Sherlock frowned.

"She's not my girlfriend," he hissed. "Simply my cleaning lady."

Irene chuckled. "Is that what you're saying to yourself? Now, I must dash – my ride's waiting."

Behind her, in a plume of purple smoke, two demons appeared, carrying what appeared to be a carriage. Irene stepped away.

"I look forward to our next encounter, Sherlock," she said as she slipped inside the carriage.

"I don't," he replied, and she laughed again as he slipped the piece of paper into his pocket.

Wiggins had fallen asleep on Molly's lap while she was sat on one of the chairs near the fireplace. Softly, Sherlock played his violin as Molly rubbed at Wiggins' back. The boy had fallen asleep as soon as he'd sat down and she had taken him in her arms, the day's events having really caught up to him. After their return from the park, Molly gave John some fish and chips she had saved for him, earning her a notch on his list in the process. Though most of the time they spent together they spent bickering, John seemed to really have taken a liking to her, and she liked him. When not bickering over the cleaning or the cooking or anything else, Molly had used the other times to really get to know the fire demon and he was funny, charming, and a bit endearing.

She glanced over at the demon, who was dozing off to the sound of Sherlock's music. Her thoughts suddenly went back to earlier. The Witch of the Waste, despite her vanity and her selfishness, was incredibly beautiful and her standing there beside Sherlock, it had made them look like one of the most gorgeous couples Molly had ever laid her eyes on.

Molly let out a sigh, and brushed at her skirts. Even if she were young—younger—she'd never be able to compete with her. Molly paused. She frowned to herself. Why would she even want to compete with her? Yes, Irene was beautiful, and although Molly didn't possess the looks, she was still far kinder than that woman was. Molly closed her eyes. Why was she even comparing herself to her? It wasn't like she was jealous. Sure she was jealous of Irene's youth, but that was all, of course it was. She certainly wasn't jealous of the way she looked at Sherlock or the way she acted around him. Why would she? It wasn't like she liked him, or his behaviors. He was stubborn, rude, and completely childish. She would never in a million years get involved with a man like him, and it wasn't like he'd be interested in her anyway. She wasn't pretty, and she was an old woman. Sherlock, apparently, only stole the hearts of young and pretty women. Molly was neither.

The song ended and Sherlock settled in the chair across from her. He studied her face carefully before setting the violin down.

"That was lovely," she commented. "Did you use a spell to learn to play?"

Sherlock scoffed lightly. "No – I learned when I was young, long before I got into magic."

Molly nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't mean—"

"You should really stop that," he said.

"Stop what?"

"Apologizing all the time. You shouldn't have to. I know you don't mean to offend me," he assured her.

Molly nodded once more, looking back to where John was snoozing. "Alright."

She let the conversation die, listening to the small cracking of the flickering flames and Billy's soft breathing.

"Can I ask you something?" she said suddenly.

"I suppose," he replied.

"You and The witch of the waste…"

"Yes?"

"A-Are you two? Were you two—?"

"Together?" he finished.

Molly nodded.

"I suppose we were – a long time ago."

Molly made a face. "Oh."

Sherlock stared at her curiously. "When I first met Irene, she was full of life, she didn't do magic simply to torment people. She was cunning and smart," he told her. His expression darkened. "And I was weak."

He glanced at anything but her.

"We became involved – as a result, I got to see just how terrible she truly was. After I left, she grew jealous and vindictive." He shrugged causally. "She's hated me ever since."

Molly stared, open-mouthed at him. "Well – well…that's certainly something." She breathed. She shook her head a little and smiled brightly. "I'm sure you'll find someone one day."

Sherlock's lip twitched in amusement.

"I'll certainly endeavor to," he said. Finally he stood up. "I should let you sleep."

He leaned in to pick up Wiggins from her lap, and the young boy let out a groan.

"Don't let the spiders touch me…." said Wiggins sleepily.

"I won't," replied Sherlock.

"Thank you…." muttered Wiggins before snuggling against him. Molly giggled and stood up.

"Good night, Sherlock."

Sherlock walked up to the steps and looked over at Molly. For some reason, some unfathomable reason, she looked younger. Her hair was brown and soft, and her skin glowed with youth. A contrast to the wrinkles and grey hair he saw every day. Much more like the Molly he had met in the alley. He bowed his head lightly.

"Good night, Molly."