Author Note: Back to our dear Molly. I feel like I'm bullying her in this fic or something, but she just keep having a crush with the wrong guy. And as Black-Butler fans know, it's unhealthy to be involved with Sebastian Michaelis. Really.

btw, I won't be uploading the next part for a while, unfortunately. Read and review please. Suggestions are also welcome for speedy recovery from writer block. :)

I hope no one minds me mentioning names of places here. These are all fictional characters (all belong to their respective creators) and events, so I'm not implying anything of this sort happens. Don't sue me.

Part 4: The Storm

When she first entered the mortuary of University College Hospital, Molly was crept out for a good few moments. There was an eerie atmosphere to the place that made her hairs stand on ends. She was sure it wasn't because of the chill air in the basement or the conditioned air in the morgue. Something just felt…wrong.

The most eerie thing was probably the director of the mortuary himself. He popped out of a coffin to greet her on the first day she worked there with a Cheshire-cat smile too large for his face. Molly never had a chance to look him in the eye. She had only a few glimpses of the gleaming orbs under his grey long fringes. How he managed to work with such obstructive hairdo was beyond her.

His habits were, unfortunately, even more eerie than his look. Molly spotted him drinking tea from a beaker and keeping his cookie jar among other post-mortem equipments. It was not sanitary, and not even sane. She could not understand how he was allowed to work with such loose practice. Luckily nothing dramatically wrong had happened. He was weird, was insane if Molly was allowed to use the word, but he was also very efficient in anything he did. And to be fair, he was very nice to her. At least for now everything seemed to be fine.

It changed from fine to good when DI Aberline or Sebastian dropped by to check on her. Aberline always came with cookies which soon were stored in the jar she had forbidden herself from even touching. Sebastian usually came with nothing but his smile and concerns, asking her ceaselessly how she had been doing or if there was anything strange going on around her. It was only on those days that Molly felt like she was herself again. She didn't have anyone to talk to here since she was trapped down in the mortuary most of the time. The director was the last person on her current list that she really wanted to go into the detail of her life with, and the DI was usually too busy to stay for long. Sebastian had the time and the ears for anything she wanted to say no matter how stupid it sounded.

But it had been two weeks since his last visit, and she had to admit that she had been lonely, very lonely. In a time like this her thoughts often drifted to Sherlock. At Barts, the days were rarely boring or ordinary with Sherlock around conducting one of his experiments. They were great breaks from her routine and being able to witness the moment of discovery had given her much thrill. She never was a science geek, but she did like science. Seeing Sherlock doing his thing had always been her joy.

Come to think of it, she hadn't heard anything about him since she left Barts. She wondered if he was alright.

"Is it done yet, Ms. Hooper?" She jumped a bit by the eerie voice that called her from behind. The director was eying with something that was equivalent to a frown. "My, my, you are unlike yourself today. Is there something of the matter?"

She smiled then shook her head. "Nothing, sir. I'm done with the examination. Do you need me to take the body back to-"

"Not for a while," replied the director with his signature grin, "But I'm concerned, my dear. You have been down lately. Is there something you want to talk about?"

She would have said 'nothing', but 'nothing' was not the right word and rather impolite considering that it would be an outright lie and he would know. Despite his eeriness, he was nice, and she liked that part of him.

"I'm a little worried about a friend. I haven't heard from him for quite some time," she said.

The director looked her up and down. (Don't ask her how she knew. She just knew.) "Is it Sebastian Michaelis?"

Her shook her head but did so a bit overdramatically that the director took it as a yes instead. He gave a disapproving huff as he continued, "Seriously, that bloke needs to learn when to stop. He had been giving you misleading signals for a month already, but that is his usual way around women, unfortunately. You, on the other hand my dear, should be wary of him and of your heart. Don't trust him too much."

"Why?"

Her question even caught her off-guard. She never thought she would dare ask. She was not so stupid as to not notice people trying to warn her off Sebastian. Aberline had given her hints. The director himself threw a couple of hints to bugger-off at Sebastian in a couple of his visits when he had lingered around too long. None of them explained to her why they tried so hard in a so subtle way to keep them apart. She had assumed it was because they were supposed to have a professional relationship, so she never asked the million-pound question.

Truth was she was curious. And if the director was willing to share, she wanted to know.

The director seemed to ponder over the subject a little before he nodded. He still had that disturbing grin on his face. "You don't really need to know this, you see. But there is no end in sight for your current situation, so I think you should at least be aware. That Sebastian - he's a psychopathic killer."

She stared back at him for good few seconds unable to reply. She had waited for some kind of mind-blowing revelation, something more than saying he was a psycho. "You're kidding me," she said with a smile. She almost snickered actually, because that just sound too strange for Sebastian - the ever-gentleman, caring Sebastian.

"I wish I did," the director replied with a wide grin reciprocating hers but there was something so solemn about it that Molly's smile slowly faded. No, he was absolutely serious. "No one has any evidence to that. We all only have suspicions. I've been working here for decades, my dear, I see all sort of people coming through here dead or alive. He is - how should I put it - a rare kind. He comes in with dead criminals far too many time for too many cases that I can only assume they were not coincidences. Even poor Aberline tried to confront him once, but psychopaths like him are too clever. And besides, the poor DI doesn't have much option. After all, if you are after a psychopath, the best sniffer dog would be another psychopath. Better still are the ones that are collared, which are very rare for the species. Sebastian happens to be exactly that. He kills but only for his master like a good hunt dog would."

He was still smiling at that point, but there was nothing on his face now but pity. And Molly's stomach flipped badly. "But he doesn't look like a psycho at all. How can you be sure?-"

"Did your ex-boyfriend seem like a psychopath to you?"

Molly shook her head bitterly. Jim was gentle; Jim was a good man. She could never even suspect him to be a monster.

"You have your answer," the director said with a gentle smile now, patting her crown like she was his little girl. She even felt like one. "Psychopaths can be very good at concealing who they are. But no matter how normal they seem, they are still predators. Just remember what your ex-boyfriend did to you when you are around Sebastian; they are the same kind after all. If you don't want to get hurt again, don't even think of putting your trust in that man."

She didn't know how to reply as the director walked away humming happily to himself like always. She couldn't believe it. She could not see Sebastian in the same light as Jim. No, if she was very honest with herself, she still could not see Jim in that light either. To her, he was still the gentle Jim. The director was right; she had no idea. She just thought she knew. It was wishful thinking.

She was deep in her own thought when the door of the mortuary swung open and she jumped at the squeak it made. Worse still was when she turned around and found Sebastian, the tall elegant Sebastian, walking in with much concern on his face. "Good morning, Ms. Hooper, Director," he said with an obvious frown as he approached her. "Are you alright?"

It was then that Molly forced herself to smile, "I'm fine, thank you."

"You're not hurt, are you?"

She turned sharply to the director and back to man who was then standing just a foot in front of her, "No, I'm fine…what's wrong?"

"It's this," said the director while tabbing his finger on the cold metallic worktop underneath the body Molly had been examining. "Aberline brought this guest in yesterday evening after you left. He was found half a block away from your flat."

Cold chill ran down her spine as soon as she realized that this body, the body she just worked on, might have some kind of connection to her. She didn't know if she should be angry or not that the director did not inform her about this from the beginning. She felt she was tricked.

"So what's your finding?"asked Sebastian to the director who gestured to Molly.

"He's…he's Caucasian, male, no identification on his body," she said, trying her best to keep her voice steady, "probably in his thirties. He…has many scars and marks. Cause of death is internal bleeding due to several gunshots to his torso. "

"May I?" Sebastian asked with latex gloves on both his hands. He didn't even wait for a nod from the director to start looking at the hands.

"It was the surveillance team outside Ms. Hooper's flat who took him down," said the director with the tone he used when he asked if someone wanted a cookie. "The man was trying to break into the flat and got into a fight with police officers, almost killed two of them. They had to shoot him in the back alley. Well, at least that was what Aberline told me."

"I won't be surprise. He was an assassin," replied Sebastian after he finished with the hands, "He was climatized to violence and torture. Some of these scars even seem like they were intentionally inflicted. He definitely cannot be decent. Aberline wants a name, I presume."

"He wonders if you know him."

"Didn't he run the fingerprints on the database yet?"

"He's doing it," said the director as he shrugged, "But, you know, database only contained the name of the criminals known to the upper-world. Aberline suspects this guy might not show up."

"Assassins with these records of violence on his body might have records in the database as well; they are the type to get into trouble. And if you ask me, I cannot tell much if I don't know the signature of his killing."

"Unfortunately, we can't allow that," replied the director with a look toward Molly who, at this point, had been standing dreadfully still. "But you can tell something from his body, right Sebastian?"

The man sighed and replied, "Pro at strangling. His upper body, especially his shoulder arms and hands, are overly muscular and out of proportion with the rest of his body. Weapon of choice was probably a rope since there is chafing on the side of his palms. But a good pro would use gloves to ease the friction, so this guy's technique was pretty mediocre, probably self-taught."

"So probably not someone you know."

"And probably someone with a criminal record," added Sebastian as he took off the latex gloves and put on his usual black leather ones. It was then that Molly spotted a patch of faint scar on the back of his left hand. "In any case, we know who sent him."

There was a moment of dreadful silence as the director's grin widened gleefully and Molly shuddered, "So your problem child is back," he added with a snicker. "For a criminal mastermind, he surely had a bad taste for assassins."

"Ever since Golem," muttered Sebastian before he turned to Molly, "Ms. Hooper, I'm afraid you have to move again. I should be able to find a place for you by the afternoon. Will you mind if I move your belongings there before informing you of the address?"

"Not at all," replied Molly. At that point, she had no idea what to do except followed Sebastian's suggestion. "Do I have to change my work again?"

"No, fortunately," Sebastian replied with a smile, "this is the safest place I know."

The director basked in the praise rather unabashedly, but a moment later he simply reverted back to his usual maniac self. "If we're done here, I think we should let our guest rest. Ms. Hooper, you can take him back to his place now. And Sebastian," he interrupted as the man helped Molly moving the body back onto the trolley. "You know the price, don't you?"

The man nodded, "We'll definitely pay you, Director, just not now."

"I know. You boys are busy these days," he snickered, "Remember to tell him I do charge interest."

Sebastian sighed but nodded anyway.

The game was on; Sally Donovan could feel it.

She had been keeping her eyes on the movements in the department ever since the pool, but there was no lead to the serial bomber case and no lead to confirm her suspicion that Aberline had been assigned to it. The stillness was nerve-wrecking until yesterday when, finally, she started to feel the change.

The first obvious clue was Aberline himself. He was aggravated. He had a meeting with Commissioner Randall for an hour followed by a series of phone calls. Finally, when he seemed settled down a bit, he searched through the database for hours in the evening.

But she was not going to burst in and asked questions just like that. She had to be tactful. The next morning she spent a good hour observing Aberline. There was nothing much but him in front of the computer. He came in and went straight to his room not even stopping by the coffee room as usual. Busy, really busy. So she made him a cup of coffee and headed towards his desk with her own mug in her other hand.

Aberline startled a bit when she knocked, but tried to conceal it instantly with a sheepish grin. She smiled and handed him his cup. "Too busy for coffee are we?" she asked.

He laughed a little then took a sip. Sally sipped hers as well. His hesitation told her he could not say much or else Fred Aberline would have said it already. So she waited, not pushing. She'd have whatever Fred wanted to tell.

"Not showing up?" she asked again just to get the conversation going.

"Yeah," he replied, grunting a little, "A body was found with no ID. I'm running a search to see if anything would show up."

"That's a tough job," Sally muttered, sympathizing with him, "Not on the missing person? Maybe try broadening your criteria?"

"Tried a big search last night, nothing showed up," he sighed and stretched, "What about you, Sally? What are you up to these days?"

"Well, ever since the serial bomber, nothing much," she intentionally mentioned it to gauge his reaction and in a way showing that she was involved. She was hoping that this would loosen Abeline up a bit. "Some drug-dealer got shot; that is nothing new around here."

"There will be a nice murder to cheer you up, don't worry," Fred teased her with a broad smile.

She scowled instantly, "I'm not a freak."

"Oh no, you aren't. But you can be very lively when there's a murder to solve," he added, "Miss somebody?"

Oh, geez. That hit too close to home.

The small ding from the computer saved her from having to navigate out of this awkward topic. Aberline quickly swung back to his computer to see the result but huffed exasperatedly. Sally stole a glimpse of the criteria then feigned disinterest by turning away and sipping her cuppa. "No good?" she asked.

"Nope," he replied, "matched a print from a recent cold case, but nothing else." Then he sighed dramatically. "This man is supposed to be a serial offender; he ought to have a record. Why this?"

Suddenly, a stroke of genius struck Sergeant Donovan, and she immediately suggested it to Aberline, "Unless he was not from around here."

Fred's eyes widened instantly, "Oh my god, Sally, why didn't I think of that!" He immediately picked up the phone and dialed an overseas number. Sally took it as a queue to leave but lingered long enough to hear the first part of the conversation. "Hello, this is Detective Inspector Fred Aberline from Scotland Yard. We have an emergency case here. There's an assassin and a possible terrorist found dead here in London, but we cannot identify him. We would like to use the FBI database…"

Something was totally going on.

"Dr. Watson!"

John was caught totally off-guarded that he jumped despite himself. Usually, he was constantly alert thanked to his military training. But being as good as it was, it did not help John on a late evening when he just walked out of a long shift at the surgery and his brain had decided to go on autopilot.

Even so, his civility was still much intact even on autopilot. "Evening," replied John as he turned to meet the young man who just greeted him. Ciel looked tired himself with his backpack slung loosely on one shoulder. "Evening class?"

"Assignments, as usual," Ciel answered, "and yourself?"

"Evening shift," said John, "didn't fancy seeing you around here at this hour."

The boy smiled in return. "Me neither," he replied, "You're going home, I presume."

"Yes?" John answered cautiously with an obvious question mark as the young man walked forward and gently took his hand. John flinched, but Ciel took a tight hold of him and led them on.

After they walked a few steps, he muttered, "I think there is a van following you."

John immediate reaction was to look back, but the firm grip on his hand and his higher functioning brain told him to stay calm and look straight ahead. "What is it like?"

"White van, with a logo of a pastry shop. They may be trying to find the shop, but it seems to me that they are following you," murmured Ciel as they continued to walk to the direction of Baker Street.

"We need to find out then," murmured John, and the young man raised his brow in response. "I know a good Chinese place around here. A dinner before going home might be a good idea. Wanna join?"

Ciel replied to him with a tug at his arm and soon John found himself in his soldier mode fully alert of his surroundings. He stole a glimpse across his shoulder at one point to see the van, but he could not make out much of its detail besides its color and a vague impression of the logo. They continued walking together while John navigated quickly through the crowd and Ciel followed him stride by stride as if knowing John's next move. It was almost like a dance, a dangerous one, and John found himself surprisingly comfortable with the feeling of Ciel's hand against his own.

They turned away from his usual route at an intersection and sped up as soon as the van was out of sight. Trailing him or not, it was better to be cautious. John wanted to make sure absolutely no one was following him home. Being kidnapped once was enough.

After a while he decided to steal a glance, and chills ran down his spine instantly as he saw the white van turned the corner towards them.

"They are still following, aren't they?" Ciel asked. The young man didn't turn but took John's reaction as the answer. "Would be best to get home as soon as possible in this situation. I don't mind walking with you to your place. They might be intimidated if there are two of us."

John shot the young man a quick thank-you and Ciel smiled warmly in return. Then John was back thinking of how to outdo them on the way back to Baker Street. They were off track and might take a lot longer.

As if reading his thoughts, Ciel suggested, "The best way to get rid of them might be going through Regent's Park. The van won't be able to follow us in there."

That was actually a brilliant idea and John's grip was a strong affirmative. At the next intersection, they quickly took the route as planned. The van seemed to be tailing a bit further behind as if unsure of the situation. John could't help feeling a bit triumphant. This might actually work.

He turned around and accidentally walked into an old lady who bounced backward and threatened to fall if not for John grabbing her. He asked if she was alright but at that very instant the lady sprayed something into his face. He could feel Ciel's grip on his shoulder as the boy tried to pull him away and he heard another spray.

Then all turned to darkness.

TBC.

Author Note: Cliffhanger, cliffhanger. I need to put a cliffhanger here. Sorry 'bout that. I'll try to finish up the next couple of chapters as soon as possible.

It's been rather stressful trying to write Sebastian without turning him into Sherlock, because they were supposed to be similar. (Check the Manor Murder Arc in Black Butler comic, and you'll see how much they resemble each other.) I was also debating on how should Sebastian talk. His Victorian-self is ridiculously charming with all those proses he loves to throw about, but it just seems strange to have a guy talking like that right now. I try to make him a smooth talker. Don't know if that succeed.

And the Director, the weird bloke, I feel sorry for Molly to have to work with him. But he's at least this weird in Black Butler so I don't wanna change anything. For Black-Butler fans, you probably know since the first few lines of description that he is our beloved Undertaker. It's such a shame that we never got to know his name so we have to go by the Director for the rest of the story. I decided to call him Director instead of Undertaker because mortuary director seems to be the perfect counterpart of what he does in the original story. In that way he can remain the overseeing presence of the world of the dead as he is in the original.