Thanks to Deep-within-the-Labyrinth, musicchica10, Doctor WTF, broadwayb, rilakjenya, coloradoandcolorado1, whytejigsaw, Smells Like Old Spirit, MorbidbyDefault, Rocking the Redhead, Fayth3, Calicar, GoldenVine, renessaincbooklover108, librarygirl157, Miss Holmes, avatardsherlockian, Cherryredgurl, Sophe, Heather Snow, Snarkland78, whovianallover, , varjaks, susieqsis, honey sweet lies, Empress of Verace, ebonyfox, sweetnellys, Nerdlee, Elliesmeow, butterflywings27, casper22, Adi Who is Also Mou, MaryHooper, Roses Near Rivers, Val, , Mione W.G, AdaYuki, Lily is Wholocked and Way Worse Than Scottish for their reviews.

As always, love to Lexie, PetraTodd and Pablo for their beta and support.

CHAPTER SIX
THE REICHENBACH FOIL

Sherlock's declaration of love was a landmark for the Hooper-Holmes marriage. There was no doubt about that. While Molly had always told herself that Sherlock loved her, in her insecure moments she became uncertain. None more so than during the incident with the Adler woman.

As much as it meant to her to finally hear the words she had been longing to hear, there was still healing needed. They couldn't just jump right back into being married as if nothing had happened. Besides, there was still the issue of telling John and the Jim Moriarty situation to contend with.

Even though it was decided that would be best for Molly to remain in her flat for now, Sherlock came over with greater frequency. His caseload was busy, but he found time to spend with Molly. They were, in essence, dating. It was lovely. They continued the habit of staving off physical intimacy until holidays came around. However, Sherlock had managed to find a list of very obscure holidays on the internet. They had even celebrated Bunsen Burner Day in a most creative manner.

As Sherlock's notoriety grew, they became more careful about their relationship. While Molly was eager for it to be public, she would have rather they just told their friends before it appeared in The Sun.

Molly stepped out the shower after a long day of work, donning Sherlock's best dressing gown. She had kept it in her closet during their separation, but she had not been able to bring herself to wear it. But now that they were beginning to repair their marriage, she was able to enjoy the feel of the soft silk against her clean skin without the horrible feeling of unrest.

She was just tying the belt as she stepped into her bedroom. She looked up and noticed the man stretched out on her bed. She smiled softly. He'd only managed to remove his jacket and shoes before he'd dozed off.

Molly settled down on the edge of the bed and gently stroked his hair. "If it isn't the Reichenbach Hero."

Sherlock's eyes fluttered open. He hummed happily at the sight of her. "Mm. Should have joined you in the shower."

Molly crinkled her nose and curled up beside him. She nuzzled her nose against his chest. "I don't know. You look pretty knackered." She sighed. "Besides, what holiday would we be celebrating?"

"I'm a hero," Sherlock replied. He waved his hand vaguely. "Haven't you seen the papers? You don't want to give me a hero's welcome?"

"Where does John think you've gone?" Molly asked. She relaxed as Sherlock slipped a hand around her, running his fingers up and down her back soothingly.

"Didn't bother giving him an excuse." Sherlock turned his head and kissed Molly on the forehead. "He didn't ask."

He kept his lips pressed to her forehead. "I should tell him. I should just... Tell him."

Molly clutched at Sherlock's shirt. "Really? You want to?"

"It's just..." Sherlock sighed. He nosed her hairline. "We've been flatmates for fifteen months now. It's not so easy to just come out and tell him that I've been married that entire time."

Molly pressed herself closer to her husband. She could feel the thrum of his heartbeat. She knew how hard it was for him. He had never cared about anyone thinking well of him before John Watson. "If it makes you feel any better, no one knows better than John how much of a prat you are."

"I think you know better," Sherlock joked.

Molly closed her eyes as she relaxed against Sherlock. "Mm. I don't know about that. You did drug him with a fear-inducing chemical in order to experiment on him."

"I should really just work it casually into conversation," Sherlock ignored her jab about Baskerville. His fingers began sifting through her damp hair. "Got a case from Lestrade. Moriarty was wrong when he called me 'the Virgin', as I have been married to Molly Hooper for two and a half years. We need milk."

Molly sighed and felt herself beginning to drift off. "I would suggest finding a more sensitive way to do that. He is your best friend."

"Hey." Molly felt Sherlock poke her. "Before you fall asleep, I've got a present for you."

With a small moan, Molly sat up. "Mm? Why?"

Sherlock held out the small box to Molly. "Do I need to have a reason?"

Molly took the small box. "This is something you got for solving a case, you just have no use for it, right?"

Sherlock scowled. "Well... Sort of. Not quite." He waved his hand. "Just open it, Molly."

Molly opened the lid at let out a small squeak at the sight of the glittering diamond earrings. "Sherlock! Oh!"

"They were cufflinks," Sherlock explain, tilting his head to kiss Molly on the cheek. "All of my shirts have buttons. So I had them converted for you." He shifted just enough to kiss her on the ear. "I thought they would look better on you anyway."

Molly pressed her lips together, trying to suppress her smile. She felt Sherlock chuckle against her. "You like it."

Molly nodded. "Very much."

"Wear them the next time I come into morgue." Sherlock kissed her ear once again. "John saw them when they were still cufflinks. Maybe he'll notice."

Molly laid back down with Sherlock. "You'll tell him when the time is right."

Sherlock's arms wrapped around Molly. "You're not impatient for me to do it?"

Molly shook her head. "No. Because I know you're ready to do it."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Molly asked, leaning towards Sherlock across the table conspiratorially. They were in the canteen at Barts. They had been working on an experiment in the morgue, when Sherlock suddenly announced he needed to wait half an hour for the results and until then, they should get coffee.

Sherlock took a sip of his drink. "Why wouldn't it be? Married people consume beverages together all of the time."

Molly blushed slightly. "It's just... Well... We usually don't do this... Out in the open."

Sherlock shrugged. "As far as anyone is concerned, we are just taking a break from experiments. Besides, isn't this what you wanted?" He furrowed his brow. "What we wanted?"

Molly opened her mouth to respond. Of course it had been what she wanted! She wanted the whole world to know she and Sherlock were together!

Well. Maybe not the whole world. Actually, she felt very exposed in the canteen. Of course, there was the obvious. Sherlock had a lot of enemies, not least of all a psychopath who had hooked John up to Semtex.

"It's okay to be nervous," Sherlock murmured, brushing a thumb over her hand. "You know full well the trepidations I've had about our relationship becoming public knowledge. But just because I'm not stating it outright does not mean I will hide it."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small box. He slid it across the table to Molly.

She smiled down at the silver and sapphire hairpin as she opened the box. "So what was it before you had it converted?"

"Tie pin," Sherlock replied. He took the hairpin out of the box and leaned over, slipping it into Molly's hair securely. "There. Lovely. Not worth nine million quid, but I'd rather not be murdered by Chinese circus performers."

Molly giggled softly and picked up her mug. She nearly choked on her coffee when she heard Sherlock called out. "Oh John!"

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw John approaching the table, looking confused. "I was just down in the morgue, but I was told you were up here. What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" Sherlock replied. "I'm having coffee while I wait for my experiment."

"With Molly." John said warily.

Sherlock's brow knit and he shook his head fractionally. "And? Why would that be surprising?"

Molly just drank deeply from her cup, keeping her eyes off of John. But she could feel him watching her.

When she did manage to hazard a quick glance at him, she swore he was looking at the decoration Sherlock had just placed in her hair.

"Do I really have to do this?" The irritation laced Sherlock's voice as he stood outside the door of Molly's bedroom.

Molly reared up on her knees, kneeling on her bed. She ran her hands down the pink silk slip she wore. It wasn't anything naughty, but she felt sexy wearing it, with her hair loose around her shoulders. Besides the lingerie, the only things she wore were her wedding ring and the earrings Sherlock had given her. "Come on, Sherlock," Molly called out sweetly. "It's all in good fun. I want to see!"

The door swung open and Sherlock entered. He was scowling as he strode in, fully dressed in one of his tailored suits. His dark curly hair was covered by the grey deerstalker.

Molly clapped her hands over her mouth and let out a squeak. "Oh Sherlock! You look adorable."

"I don't want to look adorable!" Sherlock groused. He was pacing in front of the bed. "It's a stupid hat with ridiculous flaps and-" He paused, turning slowly to look at Molly.

Molly blushed and squirmed under his gaze. His scowl had turned to a look of utter astonishment. "You look amazing."

Giggling softly, Molly looked down at herself. "Well... I just... I thought you might like it."

"I do," Sherlock assured her. He slipped his hands to her hips. He leaned in close. "So. Do you want me to leave the hat on?"

Molly laughed. "Don't have a problem with that now, do you?"

Sherlock chuckled against her neck. "As long as the rest of my clothing goes, I think I can manage it."

Molly burst through the door at 221B. She had been at work when she had heard two nurses gossiping about the arrest that had been made at Tower Hill.

Sherlock stared at Molly blankly as she panted for air. "Is everything all right, Molly?"

Molly rushed to kneel in front of his chair. She took his hand. She didn't care if John was there. She needed to be there for her husband. "Is everything all right with you?"

Sherlock's brow knit. "Why wouldn't it be all right, Molly?" He looked her over. "You're still wearing your lab coat. Did you leave the middle of your shift? What is going on?"

"I heard about Jim-" She grimaced. "Moriarty- I just wanted to make sure you're..."

Sherlock leaned in and pressed a kiss to the top of Molly's hair. "That's a terrible excuse to come see me. Would you like some tea? It might help with your trembling."

Molly stayed in her spot on the floor while Sherlock rose and walked towards the kitchen. "Wait a minute," Molly frowned deeply. "Why are you trying to make me feel better? I came here to make you feel better."

Sherlock leaned out of the kitchen. "I always appreciate when you do that, but John will be back shortly. He's just gone round the shops. I doubt finding us in flagrante is the appropriate way for him to find out about our relationship." He disappeared back into the kitchen and Molly heard the sound of mugs being taken out of the cupboard.

Molly slipped up to sit in Sherlock's chair. She pulled her legs up, hugging them to her chest. "It's just... Well... Jim- Moriarty- was arrested!"

"That is- in fact- a good thing, Molly," Sherlock called out. "Why do you believe that would upset me?"

"It's just- well-" Molly hugged her legs tighter. "I just thought- I- Umm- I don't know."

"In your own time," Sherlock replied. There was some more noise from the kitchen. A few minutes later, Sherlock came out with a tea tray. He set it down on the table next to his chair. He handed Molly a steaming mug of tea. "Have you figured out what you wanted to say yet?"

Molly wrapped her fingers around the mug. "I just thought you might be bothered that the police caught him. Not you."

Sherlock smirked at her. "You were worried about my ego? Well, I don't know what that says about me." He cupped her cheek. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm sure I will be called as an expert witness in his trial, especially since he wrote GET SHERLOCK on the glass case housing the crown jewels."

Molly's jaw dropped. "Sherlock..."

"He's in prison," Sherlock assured her, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "There's not a whole lot he can do to me at the moment. Of course, he will have a plan to get out. Otherwise, he wouldn't have allowed himself to get caught."

Molly just watched Sherlock. She could see it in his face. He was bothered by what Jim had done. Allowing himself to be taken. He hadn't yet figured out what that plan was.

But Sherlock didn't want to tell her. Being vulnerable about his emotions towards her was already a big step for him. He was not going to be vulnerable in any other way. Molly set her mug down. "I'm really sorry I bothered you."

Sherlock frowned. "You're never a bother, Molly. This is your home too."

She leaned in and gave him a kiss. "If you need to talk, you know I've always got an ear."

"You've got two," Sherlock pointed out before giving her another kiss. "Would you like to finish your tea? They can do all right without you for another thirty minutes. You have the luxury of your patients not getting any sicker without your presence."

Molly hesitated for a moment. She knew she should just go back to work if Sherlock didn't want to talk. But he was right. Any corpse in the morgue could stay on ice for a bit. She picked up her mug again with a smile.

She'd try to talk to him again later.

"Not guilty on all counts, huh?" Molly dropped her bag on the floor of 221B.

Sherlock glanced up, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. "Hm? Oh yes." He blinked. "How long have you been here?"

Molly rushed across the room and threw herself into his lap. Sherlock grunted softly as her weight fell onto him. "I just got here, you silly sod. And you've obviously been thinking about this. Too much."

Sherlock's hands came up to frame Molly's face. "John is in his room."

"I don't care," Molly replied insistently. She leaned in, kissing Sherlock.

He responded back, twisting his fingers in her hair. He sighed against her mouth, murmuring softly. "He came by."

Molly pulled away, eyes widening. She licked over her lower lip. "Wh-what?"

"Moriarty," Sherlock replied evenly. "He came by right after his release. We had tea. It was all very civil." He continued to toy with Molly's hair.

Molly just stared at Sherlock in shock. A million things were going through her mind, all rushing at the same time. She wanted to yell at Sherlock for not opening up to her. She wanted to kiss him and tell him it would be all right.

But she knew it wouldn't be. Not with Moriarty out again.

"Sherlock!" John called down the stairs. "I'm going to order Thai. Are you going to eat anything other than that applesauce you made?"

Molly leapt out of Sherlock's lap. Her hands flew up to her mouth, her cheeks flushing.

"You don't need to rush off," Sherlock murmured. He slipped his arm around Molly's waist, urging her back to him. "If he finds out, he finds out."

Molly leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to Sherlock's forehead, brushing his curls away from his face. "He shouldn't find out by finding me in your lap."

"I said I opposed to him finding us shagging," Sherlock said with a smile. "Having a snog is different. It would be very appropriate. I walked in on him and Sarah once."

"No." Molly crinkled her nose at Sherlock. Not only was the idea of John walking in on them mortifying, she couldn't say she was feeling at all sexy with Moriarty now free. "Have something to eat with John."

Sherlock's long fingers slipped around her wrist. "Molly..."

His hand was holding her tightly, almost too tightly. She worried her lower lip again. "Sherlock..."

It didn't show on his face, but she could feel it in his touch. The fear. Molly bowed her head and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's hand. "Talk to me."

Sherlock blinked at her. "About what?"

Molly sighed softly. She turned Sherlock's hand, kissing him gently at his pulse point. He wasn't going to open up to her about what he was feeling. She could tell. It was just too hard to get through to him sometimes.

"Sherlock?" John called down again. It was followed by the sound of footsteps.

Molly gave Sherlock a small smile. She gave his hand a brief squeeze before she pulled away. "Have dinner. And... Call me. If you'd like, I mean." She gave him a half-hearted smile.

"Molly?" John walked into the sitting room, his brow crinkled. "What are you doing here?"

"I just stopped by," Molly answered, walking towards the door. She picked up her bag as she went. "When I heard about the verdict. I just thought... You know, it doesn't matter. I should leave now."

John frowned deeply. "Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner?"

"Yes, stay for dinner," Sherlock murmured.

Molly shook her head. Part of her wanted to stay. She always wanted to be around Sherlock. But another part was hurt he was still resisting her attempts to help him. "Maybe another time."

Molly could feel Sherlock's gaze on her as she walked towards the door. She felt her stomach twisting even as she went out the door.

The day after Moriarty's acquittal, Sherlock seemed to forget all about the consulting criminal. The papers reported that Jim- Moriarty- had disappeared. As he disappeared from the public eye, he seemed to disappear from Sherlock's memory.

Molly knew it wasn't true. It was in the back of his head all of the time. He was just biding his time until Jim returned.

The Reichenbach Hero continued to be called onto cases. In between, Sherlock would spend time with Molly. She guiltily enjoyed the fact that Sherlock was honest-to-goodness courting her.

He still brought her tokens of affections, usually regifted from some grateful client. Molly loved them all the same. She didn't need trinkets from Sherlock. She didn't even care if they did something romantic. That he was spending time with her was enough.

Molly was just pulling on her jacket to meet Sherlock when he strode through the doors in the opposite direction. She was surprised to see him. They had been planning to meet at the café.

"Molly!" Sherlock said in greeting.

Moly looked up at him. Was he coming to meet her? But John was with him. "Oh hello. I'm just going out."

Sherlock put his hands on her shoulders, an oddly physical move for him to do with John there. But he turned her and began to walk her back towards the laboratory. "No you're not."

"I've got a lunch date," Molly subtly reminded him as she walked alongside him. She knew it was futile. He was clearly deep into a case.

"Cancel it." Sherlock reached into his pockets and produced two bags of Quavers from his pockets. "You're having lunch with me."

Molly blinked at him. "What?" She was a bit taken aback at being dragged into a case with him so dramatically. While she often worked with him, this intense insistence was something new.

She knew the answer before he said it.

"Need your help. It's one of your old boyfriends – we're trying to track him down. He's been a bit naughty!"

Jim. Of course. That was the only person who could make Sherlock act like this. Despite being with Sherlock while he investigated, it seemed like John hadn't quite caught onto the tense energy that came off him in waves when he was dealing with Moriarty.

Maybe there were some advantages to a wife over a partner.

"Er, Jim actually wasn't even my boyfriend." Molly felt irritation at Sherlock continuing to pick at her investigation of Jim. She wasn't sure what irritated more. That she'd played at dating him to investigate him or that he'd actually been up to no good and she was the only one to figure it out. "We went out three times. I ended it."

Sherlock gave Molly his normally haughty, cool look. "Yes, and then he stole the Crown Jewels, broke into the Bank of England and organised a prison break at Pentonville. For the sake of law and order, I suggest you avoid all future attempts at a relationship, Molly."

Well. That answered that question. Molly obligingly followed after him.

Maybe she spoke too soon when she said she just liked spending time with Sherlock.

Jim really had Sherlock rattled.

While intense concentration was a hallmark of her husband's, mistaking her for John was something that was new. And irritating. She tried to let it go, but knew it probably showed on her face clearly. Not that Sherlock would notice. He was lost in the chemical compounds he was attempting to discern.

"I... Owe... You," Sherlock muttered as he looked into the microscope. As he looked away, Molly could practically see the formula working its way through his mind. "Glycerol molecule. What are you?"

But as much as she wanted to save two kidnapped children, they weren't her primary concern. There was one thing that stood out to her. The one thing she would always concentrate on, above everything else.

Sherlock's wellbeing. "What did you mean, 'I owe you'?" She noticed Sherlock glance at John. Poor, unaware John. He had no idea what was going on with Sherlock. "You said, 'I owe you'. You were muttering it while you were working."

Sherlock looked into his microscope once again. "Nothing. Mental note."

He was trying to brush her off, to get back to work. He just wanted to concentrate on his case.

But it wasn't right. There was something wrong with him. Something deep down. He wanted to ignore it, but she couldn't.

"You're a bit like my dad. He's dead." Molly closed her eyes, feeling stupid for phrasing it like that. It was a stupid phrasing regardless of whom she was talking to, but even more Sherlock, who knew perfectly well her father was deceased. "No, sorry."

Sherlock was clearly irritated by her attempt to talk to him while he was working. "Molly, please don't feel the need to make conversation. It's really not your area."

He could be cutting at times, but this was something beyond his usual. But she knew it wasn't that she was interrupting him that was bothering him.

It was because he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want her to probe. She knew he wasn't all right. He just wanted to keep a stiff upper lip and continue on.

But this- before everything else- was Molly's job. To bring out the parts of Sherlock he wanted to hide from everyone. She had relented so many times before, she wouldn't do the same now. "When he was dying, he was always cheerful. He was lovely... Except when he thought no one could see. I saw him once. He looked sad."

"Molly..." Sherlock said warningly. That he wanted her to drop it was clear. But no, she couldn't. Not this time.

"You look sad." She looked towards John. "When you think he can't see you."

Sherlock lifted his head from the microscope. He looked briefly to John before turning to Molly. He wasn't fighting with her any longer. "Are you okay?" He opened his mouth, but she shook her head. They'd had this conversation before. "And don't just say you are, because I know what that means, looking sad when you think no one can see you."

"You can see me," Sherlock replied.

Molly gave him a small smile. "I don't count."

She was his wife. Of course she didn't count. He couldn't hide anything from her. She loved him too much. She was too close. She might not have possessed the deductive reasoning of a consulting detective, but she could read him, even if he didn't realize it.

It piqued Sherlock's interest. He blinked at her.

"What I'm trying to say is that, if there's anything I can do, anything you need, anything at all, you can have me. No, I just mean..." That sounded far more perverted than she had meant it. "I mean if there's anything you need..." She looked down, suddenly feeling unsure of herself. "It's fine."

But Sherlock was rattled. More than she had ever seen him. When he spoke, his first word was with a stammer. "What-what-what could I need from you?"

Molly looked up at him. If Sherlock didn't know what he wanted from her, she wasn't going to push him any further. She would be there with anything he needed, whenever he decided to take her up on it. "Nothing. I dunno. You could probably say thank you, actually."

Sherlock was quiet for a long moment, as if testing out the words in his head. "...Thank you."

Molly needed to get away for a few minutes. She needed to let the atmosphere in the room calm. "I'm just gonna go and get some crisps. Do you want anything?" She saw Sherlock about to speak, but she interrupted him before he had the chance. "It's okay, I know you don't."

Molly could see the sad look, the one he was hiding from everyone but her, clear in his eyes. "Well, actually, maybe I'll..."

"I know you don't."

Molly strode off, leaving Sherlock in the lab. If he needed her, she would be there. But he wasn't ready yet.

Word had already filtered to Molly about what was going on with Sherlock. How the girl he had rescued from the disused sweets factory had screamed at the sight of him. That rude forensic examiner, Anderson, had come in to look over the findings, to see exactly how Sherlock had come to his conclusion. He actually seemed to believe that Sherlock hadn't figured it out on his own, but rather had kidnapped the girl himself.

Things were going to end badly. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach.

Anderson had only been gone for about five minutes when she heard footsteps behind her. "Molly?" The voice was soft, hesitant.

"What is it?" Molly asked, raising her head.

Her back straightened as she set eye on the slight man. "Jim." She reached over, touching her fingers to her scalpel. He may have been a criminal mastermind, but he had no guns on her and she didn't have Semtex strapped to her chest. Maybe she could get a few licks in.

Jim looked at where her hand was creeping. He held up his own hands. "Wait wait wait! It's all right! Don't- Just don't do anything."

He reminded her of Jim from IT again. Not the cool and silent criminal she had seen on trial. "And it's Rich, by the way,"

"Rich?" Molly repeated. "You've changed your name."

Jim- Moriarty- Rich- whatever- shook his head. "It always was my name. I just wanted to see you. Before the story came out."

"Story?" Then, it started to fall into place. She had seen the paper. The tantalizing preview of the Sherlock Holmes tell-all. "Rich Brook. You're Rich Brook."

"It's a long story," Jim said, sighing. "I just wanted you to know... I never wanted to do it. Drag you into things."

"Drag me into what?" Molly asked.

"Us dating," Jim replied. "It wasn't my idea. I don't even understand why he asked me to. I guess... He's just odd like that."

Molly shook her head slowly, keeping her hand on the scalpel, ready to wield it at any moment. "I still don't understand."

"You'll understand when the article comes out. I said everything. What he asked me to do."

Molly blinked. "What he... Asked you..." She took a deep breath. "Sherlock. You told the paper Sherlock asked you to do things..."

Jim smiled at her. "You're smart, Molly. I never realized how smart." He paused. "But I suppose it does make sense."

Molly felt her stomach sink deeper. She backed up slowly. The realization hit her slowly. "You told the paper everything."

Jim let out a small laugh. "Maybe I left out one or two things. Always good to hold onto something for yourself."

Molly backed herself up against the door. "How long have you known?"

Something about Jim's smile changed. It became cold. Molly's stomach churned. She was seeing Moriarty now.

Whatever game he had been playing was over. This was the real him. The one she'd never seen before. "You know, when I asked you out, I wanted to see just how far you'd take the charade."

Molly closed her eyes tightly. "You've always known."

"Of course I did," Moriarty laughed. "You think you could get something like that past me?"

Molly trembled as she took a deep breath. "Then why... You said you would burn the heart out of him... Why haven't you...?"

Molly felt Moriarty move. He was now close- too close. She could feel his breath against her cheek. "You two have done a fine job torturing yourselves without my help, Doctor Holmes. Just the idea of me was enough. And it's been so much fun to watch."

"And now you're going to ruin him," Molly whispered. "You're behind the little girl screaming at the sight of him. And this article... You want everyone to think he's... What? The actual criminal mastermind?" She swallowed hard. "Why tell me your plan?"

"Because you would never buy it," Moriarty hissed. "You're his wife, you half-wit. I know I'm not going to trick you." He leaned in closer, his lips nearly against her skin. "But I can do worse."

Molly reached for the doorknob. Moriarty shook his head. "Don't bother rushing off. It's not going to happen yet. I must dash. Your better half is going to be coming by my place soon. Can't leave him wanting. You know how that is."

He pushed past Molly, going through the door. He paused in the corridor. "You know, before I leave... There's something I have to ask."

Molly tightened her fists, trying to stop herself from shaking. "What's that?"

"You're his wife. You nursed him through his drug addiction. And he's never going to come to you. He'll go to John. But... You..." He shook his head. "How does that feel?"

"I give him what he needs," Molly replied softly.

Moriarty grimaced. "What he needs from you. And it's terribly disappointing he should be so ordinary." He started to stride away.

"Why didn't you tell them?" Molly called after him. "Why didn't you tell the papers about me?"

Moriarty's laughter filled the corridor. "No one would have believed me."

She had thought of texting Sherlock after her encounter with Moriarty. But it was pointless. With everything that had happened, he wouldn't be answering his texts, even from her.

She struggled through her shift. She was just turning out the lights when she heard the dark voice. "You're wrong, you know."

Molly jumped, gasping. She was still on edge from Moriarty's visit to her. She spun around and saw Sherlock, bathed in shadow.

"You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you." He kept himself turned away from her, as if he were afraid to face her with everything he was saying.

She almost spoke. She wanted to tell him that wasn't what she meant by not counting. But he continued on, turning to face her. "But you were right. I'm not okay."

Molly felt her heart leap into her chest at his words, at the vulnerability clear in his face. "Tell me what's wrong."

Sherlock stepped towards her. "Molly, I think I'm going to die."

She knew Moriarty's plans were horrific. It didn't surprise her this would be his endgame. But hearing the words from Sherlock's mouth- that he wasn't arrogant enough to deny it- scared her to her very core.

"What do you need?"

Sherlock continued approaching her slowly. His voice was low. "If I wasn't everything that you think I am – everything that I think I am – would you still want to help me?"

Molly had been married to him for two and a half years. She knew exactly what he was. There was nothing that would ever stop her from helping him. "What do you need?" she repeated.

Sherlock stopped in front of her. "You."

They stared at each other for a long time. Finally, Molly reached up, threading her fingers in his hair and tugging him down to her. She could feel Sherlock's hand slip inside of her coat, resting on the small on her back. Molly took his mouth, hearing his hissing intake of breath. For one brief moment, the world melted away. There was nothing but the moist caress of their mouths. "You're a idiot," Molly finally said. She pulled away from Sherlock, looking up into his pale eyes. "I know who you are. You're mine."

"It's going to get bad, Molly," Sherlock murmured.

"And whatever I need to do," Molly replied. "I'll do it."

Molly sat outside of the morgue. She rested her head in her hands. She was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted from everything that had happened in the last day.

"Molly?"

She looked up at saw John. He was pale and there were tearstains on his cheeks. "John." Molly got to her feet. "How are you doing?"

"Have you done the post-mortem on him?" John asked. "Are you going to..."

Molly shook her head. "I'm not doing a post-mortem." She paused. "There's not going to be a post-mortem. Police investigation doesn't necessitate it. Cause is clear. And the next of kin requested the body remain as is."

John blinked. "That's a bit surprising of Mycroft."

Molly froze. "Mycroft." She nodded slowly. "Of course... Mycroft."

John put a hand on Molly's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Molly looked down. She didn't know if she could look John in the eyes while she lied. She placed a hand over his. "I'm drained. I need to... Process everything."

John looked to the door of the morgue. "You're not doing a post-mortem, but his body..."

Molly nodded. "Yeah. It's here. I'll take care of it, John." She leaned in, giving in a kiss on the cheek. "Go home, John."

John gripped her hand. "Sherlock told me to tell you he was a fake. That everything they said was true. That he invented Moriarty." He met her gaze. "You know that's not true, right?"

"Of course, John." She sighed. "Now go get some rest, okay."

Once John had disappeared from sight, the door to the morgue opened. Sherlock stepped out, his face obscured by a jacket and a hat. "I'm going to need you to watch him for me."

Molly walked alongside Sherlock. "What do you mean watch him?"

"When I'm gone," Sherlock replied. "Taking down Moriarty's network. I'm going to need you to watch after John, Mrs Hudson, Mycroft, Lestrade..."

Molly shook her head. "I can't do that, Sherlock. I'm coming with you."

Sherlock stopped, turning to face Molly. "You can't, Molly. It's going to be dangerous..."

Molly reached into her pocket. She held out her hand to Sherlock. "Here. I have your personal effects."

Sherlock frowned slightly and held out his hand. Molly dropped his wedding band into his palm.

"I didn't know you carried that with you," Molly whispered. She reached back into her pocket and pulled out her own. "I do the same." She slipped her ring on. "And with this ring, I be wed to a mad man who gets into dangerous situations and I'm going to be by his side."

"Molly..."

"Moriarty came to see me yesterday night," Molly said quietly. "I didn't tell you before everything... I didn't want you to worry. He knew. About us. And I bet you his lieutenants know too. The safest place for me is with you." She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Sorry. You're stuck with me, Sherlock."

Sherlock slipped his own ring onto his finger. "I suppose... Travelling under guise of being a honeymooning couple isn't a bad cover." He took hold of her hand before reaching into his coat, glancing at his pocketwatch. "Come on, Missus. It's time. We have a spider's web to unravel."