New chapter night again! :)

Not much to explain now...lol

Again, thanks for all the reviews!

This story is my life and the reviews are it's lifeblood, the reader's the heart pumping that blood. Without you guys this story (and I) would not survive...

Hyperbole?

No.

Metaphor.

Kind of... lol

As always, I hope you like it!

After the driver (Sebastian…? That was his name, right? (Molly was never good at remembering names)) had dropped Molly off in front of her apartment building (she had left from work early and so would look stupid going right back) she went inside, went up the stairs, went into her apartment and went to bed.

Nevermind that it was the middle of a cold and cloudy afternoon.

Molly was tired and whether this James person (who supposedly was Jim's brother) was going to be "speaking to" Jim "soon" or not…

…Molly knew Jim would be mad at her for not meeting him at the airport like she had promised and she knew he would probably try to 'get back' at her in some way for that… probably in manner that involved seeing her in person….

…which, in turn, Molly knew would make James mad and she knew that he would probably try to 'get back' at her in some way for that… probably in a manner that involved killing her.

God.

It was all too much.

And Molly was tired.

She locked the door to her flat and even closed the door on Toby, shutting herself alone in her bedroom with the lights off.

She then wrapped and trapped herself tightly in her blankets, curling up into a ball to be as small as possible and completely surrounded.

She wanted to be alone.

Maybe if Molly became as tiny and as quiet as she could be, even tinier and quieter than she had ever been before, she could cease to exist—not die—but simply disappear as if she had never even been there at all.

All her problems (Jim. Sherlock. Jim. Fear. Jim. Indecision. Jim. Being Alive. Jim. Possibly Dying. Sherlock Alone. Sherlock. Jim. Sherlock. Jim. Sherlock. Jim.) would be gone.

Molly would be gone.

She would escape.

The next day no one asked Molly why she had left her shift early, in fact, no one had even noticed that she had gone.

It was this that she no longer resented as much anymore and had now come to count on ever since she had met Jim Moriarty.

Because she was so invisible, Molly had no trouble disappearing into a crowd or escaping work for a cold, cloudy afternoon like the one yesterday…

…and the one today.

Molly was on break, walking through the white hospital halls, away from the cafeteria where she had found nothing satisfactory to eat.

She was on her way to the best vending machine (much better than the one in the basement where she worked) and in order to get there she had to take an elevator up to the first floor.

And then she stepped off the elevator, Molly saw Jim (dressed very strangely in some university sweatshirt) walk out of the double doors leading back to the treatment rooms, a fresh bandage over his nose.

She wanted to run…

(Away from him…or towards him?)

…but she froze.

If he saw her he'd be mad …and if she saw him then James would be mad.

And kill her.

…maybe that was okay…?

No.

It wasn't.

But Jim would be mad too, and he would be mad first.

He'd kill her.

…was that okay?

"Molly."

Molly was shaken from her thoughts by Jim, already standing in front of her, clutching her arm sharply.

"Molly." He repeated and she realized his voice was only a whisper.

This was strange because Jim usually tried to make himself as big and as loud as possible.

She looked up, startled, into his face.

His expression was…it was…almost serious…

…urgent, even.

This was strange because Jim usually mocked every single extreme emotion on his constantly animated and changing face as if he never actually felt any of them himself.

"J-Jim…!" was all Molly could choke out, still shocked to see him and to see him like this and to see him after what James had said yesterday.

Molly studied Jim's face as he studied hers.

He seemed to have noticed that he was acting strange and his furrowed brow softened.

"They're watching." He smiled, still whispering, and gesturing to a security camera by tilting his head in its direction, "We can't stay here."

"Who's 'they'?" Molly asked.

They were on the sidewalk, now, practically running away from St. Bartholomew's, pushing past people as they hurried.

And Jim, just like on Valentine's Day, had not let go of her arm. His fingers were clenched around her upper, nails digging in through her labcoat all the way into her skin.

"You've met them." Jim told her, not turning back to look at her as he pulled her along.

"You mean that man?" Molly asked, "James? Is he really your brother?"

"Yes he is." Jim confirmed, "Although I'm never supposed to say that…but it's not just him. He has…people working for him-"

"Somebody named Sebastian?"

"That's one of them. Number one, actually. He's a sniper. Definitely militarily trained and probably fresh out of Afghanistan too…he almost shot you once, too."

"What? When?"

"The day you decided to 'set me up' on a 'date' with Detective Inspector Lestrade. But don't worry about it, cupid. I saved you…"

Despite the chilly air, Molly felt her skin warm.

Yes, it was only just a few days ago that she had been stupid enough to try to stage an ambush arrest on Jim Moriarty.

Of course, he would have been too smart to be caught in a mouse's mousetrap.

Molly had predicted that.

(…and maybe that was why she had gone ahead with the plan in the first place, because she knew that it wouldn't work…)

But almost being shot?

Molly did not predict that.

Despite her warm skin, Molly felt herself shiver.

"-Thank you!" she exclaimed, and the added in a mumble, "…and…I'm sorry…."

"All is forgiven." Jim replied, "And I too am sorry for standing both you and Mr. Lestrade up…but I just knew it wouldn't work out."

"Your brother…James…" Molly began, "…why does he want to kill me?"

"Because he never lets me have any fun…" Jim explained "…and he never lets me have what I want."

And finally he looked back at her, stopping and turning around to face her, still not releasing her arm.

Before Molly could speak, his other hand wrapped around her other arm and then both his hands started to pull off her labcoat.

In the middle of the street.

"Jim—What the-what are you doing?" she squeaked.

Passersby were already staring, some had even come to a complete halt to watch.

"They're watching, remember?" Jim said.

(Yes they were!)

"I don't—"

"The labcoat's too recognizable. Too white. Nothing else is that pure in this city….you've gotta ditch it."

"Oh." Molly nodded, "I can—"

"No. Allow me." And like 'Jim from IT' had done for her on their second date, Jim swept (gracefully, this time, not awkwardly) behind her and removed her coat.

He folded it carefully over one arm and then tossed it over his shoulder to the pavement behind him (where it certainly wouldn't be 'too white' and 'that pure' in an hour after being trampled).

Molly turned to watch this, gaping in shock, eyes and mouth wide.

Jim loved it when she did that. It really did have a certain charm.

(She really did have a certain charm.)

Next, Jim tore the bandage from the top of his nose and flung it aside to the sidewalk as well.

On the inside it was a little bloody and now it was just lying there on the ground (definitely not sanitary) leaving Jim's slightly red, slightly blue (purple-ly bruised) nose exposed.

"I think you'll be more noticeable now, than before…" Molly commented, pointing at his nose.

"…I know..." Jim sighed, "But it was cramping my style."

"…aren't you hurt, though?" Molly asked, inching closer to him.

"'Beauty is pain', they say." Jim shrugged.

But the injury (most likely a broken nose) was less than beautiful.

Molly raised her fingers as if to touch his face but didn't, instead stopping short and running them through her hair and pulling it back into a ponytail with the tie she kept around her wrist.

And Jim watched her (in fascination or just amusement?), smirking.

"Less recognizable?" Molly inquired.

"Darling, you're invisible." He grinned, looking her up and down.

(And what if she was invisible? (Because she, indeed, was invisible.)…What if she was just a ghost that only he could see…?)

Molly smiled sadly at this (but not as sadly as she would have a year ago).

(Because what if she was invisible? (And she was invisible.) And what if she was a ghost that only he could see?...And what if him seeing her meant that she wasn't a ghost and that him seeing her meant was now, finally alive..?)

"But they're still watching, remember." She reminded.

"Yes, they are." Jim agreed.

And there was another security camera, right above them, just like there was on almost every corner in London.

Their heads turned and glanced at it… and it turned and stared at them.

Jim and Molly looked back to each other and nodded.

They began to walk again.

As they walked (ran, practically) Molly and Jim attempted to enroll in the school of fish that swam down the crowded sidewalks…

…but it was the middle of the day and it was cold and so the sidewalks weren't actually crowded.

Molly, who could always feel when she was being watched, could tell that the cameras were following her and Jim.

Tall buildings (mostly office space and storefronts) surrounded them and even those without cameras still seem as if they were watching them.

Molly was back to shivering, now, and Jim finally understood why the Cyclops had a million eyes.

And, although most other people on the street had ceased watching Molly and Jim's strange behavior, one man on the street, they noticed, had started to follow them.

Whenever they crossed a street, he crossed the street right after them.

Whenever they turned a corner, he turned the same corner.

He wasn't even trying to be subtle about it.

Molly, who could always feel when she was being watched, looked back at the man and then forwards at Jim who was a few steps a head of her.

She quickened her pace so that she was matching his strides.

"What do we do?" She whispered urgently.

The man was getting closer, also quickening his pace.

"Escape." Jim stated.

They passed the entrance to the tube and Jim pulled Molly into the mouth of the cave.

They took the escalator stairs two at a time, weaving around those in their way, the man attempting to keep up with them.

"We're not going to be buying tickets, are we?" Molly guessed once they reached the bottom.

She rushed towards the automated gates.

"We're not going to be riding." Jim corrected, snatching Molly's wrist and stopping her.

From their steadily elevating vantage point standing on the up-escalator, they watched the man race towards the turnstiles, hop one and dash into the distance in the direction he believed Jim and Molly had gone.

They had to get to somewhere where the fish were packed like sardines.

Somewhere busy and crowded where it would be easy to blend in and difficult to be found.

Jim knew just the place.

But first they had to escape their new (and old (the cameras)) pursuers.

A few blocks later, it was actually Molly who noticed the taxi, passing by many (disgruntled) possible customers with furiously hands, in favor of driving slowly by the curb behind her and Jim.

"The taxi…" she commented, worriedly, trying to point to the cab in a way that looked like she was scratching her ear.

"Mmm-hmm." Jim acknowledged, "Let's get in."

Molly would have gasped; her eyes and mouth would have opened wide…

…if she hadn't been expecting something like this.

Now this was the Jim she knew.

Running away had been strange, coming from him. Walking right up to danger an introducing himself was more like him.

Molly watched Jim approach the cab, but as he bent slightly over to knock on the driver's side window, the vehicle sped away into the traffic.

Jim turned and shrugged at Molly, wearing his best confused face.

"Guess he didn't wanna give us a ride."

"Maybe his orders were only to follow us….?" Molly speculated.

"I know where they won't follow us." Jim declared.

Before they had even turned the corner onto the correct street, Molly knew exactly where they were.

"No!" she squeaked, "Not here…!"

Scotland Yard loomed ahead of them.

"Why not?" Jim inquired, chuckling, "Safest place in the city, I'd say."

"The police'll catch us!" Molly cried, "We'll get away from your brother's men, just to get arrested!"

"We won't be arrested." Jim scoffed, "And even if we are, it's much easier to escape the police, anyway."

"I'm not going in there."

Molly came to a halt, practically stomping one foot on the pavement for effect.

"Don't be such a chicken, Molly. You aren't even wanted for any crimes!"

"I will be, once they see me with you!"

"Who's 'they'?" Jim asked, stopping, turning around and facing her with an accusing, skeptical look.

"What do you mean, 'who's they'? The police, of course!"

"And what have 'they' ever done for you?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me. What have 'they'… ever done for you? Are 'they' your friends, Molly? Do 'they' even know you…?"

Molly thought of Lestrade (good intentions, but condescending even if he didn't mean to be…friendly, but never really a friend)…

…and then she thought of Sherlock (not even a police officer, but still one of the 'they' she knew Jim had meant (because Jim knew Sherlock was one of the 'they' she had meant)).

Molly shook her head.

"So why do you care what 'they' think of you?" Jim inquired.

"…Because they might arrest me…?" Molly tried.

But Jim wasn't stupid.

"Don't you give me that bullshit!" he snapped, "That's not why you care. And 'they' is more than just the police. 'They' is everyone…And you cared what 'they' think of you before you even met me! And I want to know why. I want to know why you always do everything 'they' expect of you, just to please them…even though they treat you like a bug. They just step on you…that is, if they even notice you at all."

"I don't—"

"Yes you do. And you always have. You're always such a good little girl…you always follow all the rules—"

"No, I don't! I've broken the rules before! I've snuck Sherlock body parts out of the morgue—"

"And what has he ever done for you? Nothing. If you're a bug to everyone else, Molly, you're not even an amoeba to him. And still you break the rules for him to get him to like you…just like you do everything to get everyone else to like you. You do it to try to be normal…why?"

"…I don't…know…" Molly admitted, she had never actually wondered herself why she always did that.

(But wasn't 'try to be normal' and 'try to be liked' just what people do?)

Jim laughed at her answer.

"Do you think Sherlock cares what anyone thinks of him, if anyone likes him? No! He'd never be that stupid…if he cared, then he would be normal. Just like everybody else, all too busy caring about what everybody else thinks to do anything important…to be anything important. If Sherlock cared…he would be nothing…!"

Molly considered Jim's statement and considered the fact that he wasn't just talking about Sherlock Holmes, but also about himself.

And Jim was right, what he had said was true.

"You're not a bug, Molly. Stop acting like one." Jim added, before she could even speak, "…Imagine what you could be if you just. didn't. care."

And Molly did.

She thought of all the things she would finally be able to do, that she had been wishing forever she could do, but hadn't done because she cared too much what people thought about her.

And then she thought of Jim.

He didn't seem to care about anyone's opinion of him; he just seemed to do whatever he wanted to.

And he seemed happy...

Free.

"I would escape." Molly realized.

"And do you want to?" Jim asked, "…Escape?"

"Yes." Molly said, firmly, with a single nod.

And Jim didn't ask her if she was 'sure'.

Ten minutes later, they were speeding down the road in a 'borrowed' police car.

(And no, hot-wiring was too 'low-class' for Jim. That was why he had pick-pocketed the keys from a police officer. How Classy.)

Jim maneuvered the vehicle around the other vehicles (cutting many of them off and causing many of them to honk) on the street, and around the streets of London (Left turn. Right turn. U-turn.) as if it was a maze, never continuing straight and never stopping for the lights.

He wasn't even wearing a seatbelt.

Molly, herself, was tightly buckled and clutched the sides of her seat, squinting her eyes each time she thought the car was going to crash into something in front of them.

When she re-opened her eyes after Jim had narrowly avoided tour bus (by driving on the sidewalk) she caught a glimpse of the rear-view mirror.

Now there were three black cars right behind them, positioned amongst the vehicles of other colors, joining the first one that had appeared five minutes earlier.

"Jim, there's four of them, now…!" Molly informed, turning to him quickly and then all the way around to look through the back window at the black vehicles.

Four cars were not a coincidence.

When the police car turned, the black cars turned.

When the police car ran a red light, the black cars ran the same light.

They were following them.

"Good." Jim grinned, "Finally I get to use this."

He had been tapping at buttons and flipping switches that normal cars didn't have with his free hand, the entire trip so far.

Now, he had finally found the siren.

The police car wailed and flashed its lights, causing all other cars (except the four) to 'make way' for Jim and Molly.

It was also then that Scotland Yard realized it was missing a car, and stated the license plate over the radio.

"Now there's going to be even more people chasing us…" Molly groaned, sinking down in her seat.

"I've never been on this end of a police chase before." Jim commented.

(But then again, how often was the police car the one being chased?)

The black cars were soon joined by police cars in pursuit of the stolen (borrowed) vehicle.

It was a fine for a while, as Jim continued his 'normal' driving which left most of the other police cars far behind ( although not quite losing the black ones) but all that changed when a helicopter appeared, sputtering and hovering in the air above them.

Molly glanced up, saw it and then threw her face into her hands.

It was all over…

(Fun while it lasted?)

"Oh god…" she murmured, "They're going to catch us. We're going to jail, we're both going to jail…"

"Don't be stupid, Molly." Jim muttered, rolling his eyes.

The police car screeched to a stop, in the middle of the road, sending Molly rushing forwards and then back, her seatbelt strangling her.

(And, of course, Jim was unaffected by whiplash.)

The cars behind them were also forced to come to a sudden, uncomfortable halt, slamming their breaks and slamming into one another, causing a pile up of vehicles on the street, pyramid shaped, with the police vehicle at the very top.

Siren and lights still blaring, Jim jumped out of the car, not bothering to close the door or take the keys out of the ignition.

"You coming or what?" He asked Molly, poking his head back inside.

"Y-yes!" She replied, struggling with her seatbelt and then finally managing to climb out of the car.

Molly hurried after Jim, dodging speeding cars, across the street towards the sidewalk.

It was as if he just knew when and where the vehicles would appear and so was effortlessly able to avoid them (and always by just a hair the blew in the wind as they whipped by him).

Molly wasn't so coordinated…

…but, still, she made it.

At this point, police officers and men in black suits were getting out of their respective cars, unmoving in the traffic of successive crashes, and marching through the honking mass towards where Jim and Molly stood.

"They didn't stay to exchange insurance information." Jim noted, "How rude."

Molly watched the men approach and accidently locked eyes with one, who glared accusingly. So did the cop she saw when she tried to look away from the suited man.

Yep. So they were definitely as 'out to get' her as they were Jim, perhaps more…

Now how to escape?

Molly scanned the sidewalk (noticing the camera watching her and Jim) until she saw a well-dressed, older and overweight woman walking several dogs (each with their own diamond studded collar and gold chain leash).

She sprinted up to the woman.

"Oh my gosh, they're so cute!" she squealed, concealing her nervousness as best she could, "May I pet them?"

"…I suppose you can…" The lady sniffed, lifting an eyebrow and her nose at Molly disapprovingly.

"Thank you!" Molly beamed and bent down to stroke each of the dog's reddish-brown fur in turn, adding, "…They're my favorite breed!"

(In truth Molly was a complete cat-person and had no idea the official breed name of the wiener-shaped dogs.)

"Oh, really?" The woman exclaimed, disapproval dissolving, "Dachshunds really are the superior breed of terrier. Mine are purebreds, you know…"

"That's nice." Molly forced a smile as the little beasts bit at her fingers.

As she and the lady 'chatted' Molly kept glancing away from her and the dogs, over to where she and Jim's followers were getting closer.

Jim watched Molly 'play' with the dachshunds.

He knew that Molly was not a dog-person and he knew that she was in severe distress at the moment on account of being chase… and so he knew where she was going with this.

Shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pocket and turning his head to look down at the sidewalk, he walked quickly to where Molly bent.

"Excuse me." He growled as he bumped into the well-dressed overweight woman.

The woman let out a gasp of shock and annoyance as she fell backwards onto the pavement, Jim having knocked her down with his jabbing elbow.

She threw both her hands up in alarm…

…and then realized she had let go of her dog leashes.

"No!" she shrilled, attempting to stand back up, "My babies!"

Molly, Jim and the lady all watched as the dachshunds escaped, their gold chains jingling as they beat against the concrete, trailing behind them.

They tiny reddish-brown dogs ran into the road, their barks joining the chorus of the honking cars still trapped in the traffic jam.

Molly concealed her laughter discretely with a hand over her mouth.

Jim didn't bother.

Finally the woman was up and chasing after her 'babies' that ran free and away from her as she followed them into the street where the vehicles (that were actually able to move through the pile-up) had to stop and swerve to miss them.

This was a nice enough diversion to keep the police officers and suited men from reaching the sidewalk that Molly and Jim hurried away down.

Thundering above the beeping and barking and shouting and her own pounding heart, Molly could still hear the helicopter as she and Jim walked (ran, practically).

She gazed up at the sky (blue, for once).

It was still following them.

"We've got to find cover!" she declared.

"We already have." Jim stated, "…we're here."

"I come here all the time." Jim said as he and Molly strolled through the crowded halls of King's Cross train station, trying their best too look like a normal couple.

(Normal? Never! But were they a 'couple'…?)

His arm was around her shoulders and her head was leaning next to his neck (in between his head and shoulder as if it was the missing piece of a puzzle, finally found).

"They won't find us in here." Molly decided.

This really was the perfect place to hide.

Everywhere Molly looked she could see people, people and more people (mostly businessmen and women, probably on their way to a meeting or something else important) for her and Jim to disappear amongst.

"I know I promised I wouldn't steal you away…" Jim mused, staring up at the ceiling (counting the cameras as they walked), "….but would you object, much, if I did?

Molly's breath hitched.

And she knew he had felt it, he was holding her closer now.

(Afraid that she would try to run? No. They were past that now…)

"Not too much." Molly teased, nestling into him.

"I see." Jim smirked, "So…if I took you away, you wouldn't try to escape…?"

"I doubt that I'd even be able to." Molly responded.

"That's not what I asked." Jim reminded.

Jim's fingers started to twirl the hair hanging out of her ponytail, lightly at first, but then there were sharp tugs that Molly couldn't say didn't hurt.

(…could this just be his way of being 'romantic'?)

Molly winced at particularly painful pull.

She turned to Jim and saw him remove his arm from around her shoulders, a long strand of her copper hair dancing between his fingers.

He brought it to eye level, examined it (maybe even breathed it in) and then put it into his pocket.

"…no." Molly answered his question, "I wouldn't."

Jim grinned fully but then the grin faded.

"…is that because you want me to have you…or because you'd be too afraid not to let me?"

(They were really the same thing, by now.)

"….I don't…. know..." Molly admitted (and she was allowed to, in fact encouraged to, because Jim liked being the 'smart one').

Jim laughed at her answer, but not too cruelly.

"And what if I took you and locked you away in a tower somewhere?" he chuckled, "Somewhere, far away from everyone, where I was the only person you ever saw…who ever saw you?"

And what if he didn't and things just stayed the way they were now?

And what if she was an invisible ghost that only he could see?

(They were all the same thing, really.)

Ah, hypotheticals…

But before Molly could think of and then give a reply, Jim wasn't looking (seeing) her anymore and instead was looking right past her (right through her) around the populous hall.

She tried to follow his gaze, but her eyes were unable to keep up as his darted around the room.

Now they were standing still, on the platform, while everyone else was milling around like herd of cattle.

"What do you see?" she asked.

"Nothing important." Jim shrugged, turning back to her, rolling his eyes.

(Did that include her? Did that statement mean she was important to him or not? It was always tempting to analyze (not over-analyze there was no 'over-analyze' with Jim) everything he said, everything he did for the deeper meaning that was always there…but Molly knew that if she did her head would probably explode.)

"Oh." Molly said.

There was silence between for a few moments as they listened to the hum of other people's conversations.

Finally, the train pulled into the platform, gaining everyone's attention to its slow and steady approach.

"Are we going to get on?" Molly inquired, watching the locomotive slow to a halt.

They didn't have tickets or passes but Jim had easily gotten them past the first lines of defense (ticket takers, metal detectors) and she guessed he could just as easily get them on to the train.

Jim didn't answer her question, instead looking past Molly again as the train's opening doors and the crowd in the room.

She saw him glance over at a security camera on the wall, 'trained' (ha, ha) on them.

Jim wasn't even facing her anymore and looked as if he was going to move very soon.

(Did this mean they were boarding the train?)

"Jim…?" She called, tapping him on the back of his shoulder, to get his attention.

He actually startled at this, (which was strange, for him), jerking at her touch and turning swiftly around in her direction.

He had that serious, urgent even, expression on his face.

Worry.

He removed his hand from his pocket, but instead of holding her hair, it was holding his phone.

With his free hand he grabbed her wrist and then placed the smartphone into her open palm, then clamping her other hand over it to enclose it inside.

"Here," he said, staring into her eyes, "Take this."

"What-why!" Molly asked, his nervousness mirrored tenfold on her own face now.

Jim only smiled.

"Why?" Molly repeated, louder, more desperately, "Why are you giving me this?"

They heard the breaks of the train screech and then sigh.

It had finally stopped, its doors opening.

"Keep it safe." Jim told her, pressing her top hand down on the phone.

He was still looking seriously, urgently into her eyes.

But she looked past him.

All around them, she could see everyone else staring at them.

(And they weren't even being not normal!)

Molly and Jim were surrounded.

Suddenly, all other people on the platform moved towards them in masse, like a stampede.

Closing in on all sides, there was no escape.

"Oh my g—" Molly started to cry but was interrupted.

By Jim's lips on her own.

During the kiss (quicker than normal (normal?! It was normal to kiss Jim Moriarty now? More serious, more urgent that normal) Molly could feel Jim bring his hands around her waist… at the same time slipping his phone into her back pocket.

Then his hands were on both her shoulders and the kiss was over, his lips now to her ear.

Past his head she could see the herd (of almost a hundred people) only a foot away from them now, men in black suits now leading the charge.

"Don't worry…" Jim whispered, "They won't touchyou. They only want me."

"But—"Molly tried to talk again, but couldn't muster the words, nor her voice.

Jim eyes were boring into hers, again, but, again, she looked past him at the surrounding crowd.

Two men, black suited, stepped out from it.

"James Moriarty." The first addressed, formally.

('Which one?' Molly wanted to say, or maybe even 'wrong one'…but that wouldn't be true, now would it…especially since these men most likely worked for the other one. And she still could not speak.)

"Just a minute." Jim said, flatly, not even turning around (away from Molly) to look at them as they came up from behind, "I'm almost done here."

"Jim…" Molly managed to choke out.

She could not believe this.

Jim was really going to be caught.

Jim Moriarty, world's only 'consulting criminal', going to be caught!

All this running and he was going to be caught.

…and what about her.

It was no secret anymore that she was with (Yes, with. Like a couple…? Or just a 'not-quite-hostage'? Same thing) Jim and so surely there would be consequences for her as well.

"You're invisible, remember?" Jim whispered to her , "Just a ghost, love. Nobody can see you..."

The second black suited man, standing directly behind him, coughed in a manner feigning discreetness, fist over his mouth.

"Hurry it up, Mr. Moriarty." The first warned.

"I said I'd be right there, jeez…" Jim groaned and Molly saw him roll his eyes because he still didn't even turn to look at the men or the swarm of hungry piranhas around them.

As for Molly, her eyes couldn't decide who to look at and so kept jumping back and forth between Jim and the men in black suits.

If only there was an escape…

Molly scanned the room but found nothing.

And Jim's eyes grabbed her own again, as if with an invisible but incredibly powerful rope.

A gravity.

"Keep it safe." He reminded, barely audible, referring to the phone, then adding "and keep safe.", referring to her.

"Now, Mr. Moriarty." The second suited man declared.

He and the other stomped forwards, until they were close enough to each place a hand on one of Jim's shoulders.

Jim shrugged them off, then leaning towards Molly and kissing her again, hands stroking her cheeks (and then her neck).

This one was not quicker than normal, not more serious, not more urgent.

This one was slow, like the world itself had stopped turning, and as sharp as when he had snatched out one of her hairs from her skull.

Just for a moment (for minutes, hours, days, weeks, years…seconds) Jim and Molly escaped.

And then it broke.

Jim and Molly's lips broke apart; Jim being pulled sharply away from Molly by the two black-suited men and dragged slowly towards the train.

Backwards as he was being stolen away from her, Molly could see Jim (eyes still staring into hers) licking his lips as if painting them, the taste of her blood still on his tongue.

And Molly could taste the metallic flavor in her own mouth, too, from where Jim had bitten her tongue.

She watched, two fingers to her still slightly parted lips, as Jim was taken onto the train.

As he had said, the crowd of people paid her no attention at all.

(What if she was invisible? What if she was a ghost that nobody could see? She was, she was…)

Until he was out of her line of sight, Jim continued to look at Molly.

(And perhaps even after she could no longer see him, as well. Molly could always feel when she was being watched…)

Once he was on the train and out of view, everyone else boarded too, leaving Molly alone on the platform to watch helplessly as it drove away, steadily increasing in speed until it was gone.

Until Jim was gone.

Where he was being taken, what was going to happen to him, Molly did not know.

And there was nothing she could do.

When the train was out of view, Molly left the empty platform and the empty station (!) and walked all the way home (she didn't trust taxis anymore) on the sidewalks that felt just as empty.

Wasn't this what she had wanted…?

…to be alone…?

"No." Jim had said once, "You've never wanted that."

(And he was right, of course, like Sherlock, Jim was always right but unlike Sherlock, Jim was always right about her.)

…But maybe this was for the best, Jim being just taken away, like that…

…maybe it solved her 'Jim' problem…

Hadn't she wanted him to arrested?

(This wasn't exactly 'arrested', but it served the same effect.)

Jim was off the streets, now.

No more crimes, no more killings …

(And he could have easily killed her whenever he so chose.)

This would save lives.

Perhaps even her own…

…she had escaped, hadn't she?

Escaped Jim Moriarty.

She was free from him, now, wasn't she?

…wasn't she…?

…So why wasn't she happy?

So why did Molly feel more trapped than ever?

OH NO!

Jim's been captured!

lol