Chapter 11

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Not mine

Warning: Slight description of a sexual assault. It's not Molly, so don't freak out. I'm a wee bit nervous about this chapter...I threw in a plot twist that I've been toying with for awhile, I hope you all like this chapter. Show me some love if you do! Oh and as usual, Sherlock is a bit of a brat in this chapter.

Chief Inspector Barnaby sat alone in his office staring down at the evidence before him. The clock ticked by as the night wore on. The sun had set two hours ago and he had not moved from his desk chair. Something was not right about this case. Something was off, but he just couldn't see it. There were just too many aspects of it that didn't add up. If this man was so obsessed with Molly Hooper, then why the cryptic messages to Sherlock Holmes. Why not a direct message to Molly? And the crime scenes, all three were so vastly different. The photographs of the scene at Molly's parents' home had shown a killer who was extremely organized and detail oriented. The scene at Molly's cottage had been vague and obtuse, but the scene at the garage had been impulsive and disorderly. And was there a message to Sherlock at the first crime scene that the fire had destroyed?

And this Simon, where the bloody hell had he come from? Did he just pop up out of nowhere? Molly had said that she had met him at a coffee shop, but where was he before then? Had he been stalking her before he had actually approached her? Were their other murder victims? Were there other women before Molly?

After questioning Molly, she realized that she actually knew very little about this man she had dated for nearly 6 months. Was Molly even the target from the beginning? Had Simon had some obsession that started with Sherlock Holmes, but developed into an obsession for Molly Hooper?

Too many questions left unanswered and with 5 murder victims, Barnaby did not like where this was going as he knew this was far from being over.

"Thank you for driving me to the hotel Gavin." Molly said.

"No problem. The Golden Hind is a much better hotel than the one you were at before. And you'll be closer to us so we can keep an eye on you, make sure you're safe." Gavin replied swerving to miss a truck carrying several large bales of hay. He glanced at Molly and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry…" He mumbled.

"Why was Mycroft in Causton?" Molly asked hoping Gavin didn't feel as if she were prying.

"I'm not sure. Chief Inspector Barnaby called him and asked him to come. Probably something to do with his brother I would imagine." Gavin said his voice hardening at the mention of Sherlock.

"Sherlock does take some getting used to, I suppose."

Gavin snorted. "More like he's an acquired bloody taste, the bloody wanker. He's an arrogant git is all I know."

Molly giggled. "Yes he is a git. I have told him on many occasions as has everyone else. I think you've handled him quite well considering…well except for when you both were acting like children in my hotel room."

"I told you, I thought he was trying to take advantage of you." Gavin fumed.

"And I'm sure he was. Trying to manipulate the situation for his own comfort, but I could've handled him Gavin. You didn't need to hit him."

"I was just trying to look after you Molly." Gavin said softly, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter as the flush crept up his neck. Even in the moonlight she could see him blushing.

Molly bit back a smile. "Thank you Gavin, for protecting me."

Gavin cleared his throat. "Um…Molly…I know the timing is terrible and you've been so upset lately what with everything that's been happening, but I was wondering…if maybe…you'd like to come to the summer fete at Midsomer Marrow…you know…with me…together…"

"Gavin are you asking me on a date?" Molly asked, trying hard to laugh at how adorable he was. She didn't want to embarrass him further.

His ears were burning as the flush had crept up his neck and his face. "Um…well…yes I guess I am. Unless of course you feel it's unprofessional or bad timing…"

"I'd love too." Molly said taking pity on his stuttering.

"Oh…great…that's great…it'll be fun…a good way to take your mind off some of the stress you've been under…great…it's a date then." He finally managed to spit out.

"Yes, it's a date.

Sherlock Holmes sat in silence on the hotel sofa, his elbows resting on his knees while his chin rested on his steepled fingers. This case...what was it about this case? Why did it feel…wrong? He had felt something wasn't quite right before he ever saw the coroner's report.

Then after seeing the report, he was convinced something was off about this whole bloody thing. He was annoyed that no one at Causton CID seemed to notice the lack of dental records on Molly's family. At first, he shrugged it off to incompetence, but he knew that was not an issue with the Chief Inspector. Barnaby was far from being incompetent, he was a very capable man, Sherlock knew.

Now Troy on the other hand, Sherlock had no issues with chucking the miss up to the incompetence of the Detective Sergeant. In fact it gave Sherlock great pleasure in placing the blame at Troy's feet, but in all honesty, Troy was young and perhaps it had been an honest mistake on his part to miss it.

Sherlock pondered the messages that had been directed at him, they were goading him specifically, but why? He had never been openly affectionate to Molly and if this man Simon was supposedly killing off romantic rivals, why goad Sherlock?

The pictures of the crime scenes themselves sent up red flags for him and he suspected Barnaby, though he didn't know why the Chief Inspector was keeping his thoughts to himself at the moment. The first crime scene, the one of Molly's family was carefully, clinically executed. It was cold, brutal, and to the point. The death of William Banner had been impulsive, erratic, messy, and unorganized. The MO from the killings was just too different to possibly be from the same killer, and yet it had to be. There was only one Simon, wasn't there?

It was 10 pm when Sherlock got to Causton Hospital. As he pushed the door open to the corridor which would take him to the lab, he paused in surprise at who he saw approaching him from a different entrance.

"Sherlock." Barnaby said in greeting.

Sherlock smiled. "Chief Inspector."

"What brings you here this fine evening?" Barnaby asked.

"I imagine the same thing that has brought you here, the lack of dental records in the murder of Molly's family?"

Barnaby nodded thoughtfully. "You know, Dr. Anderson assures me that when he received the reports from Hull CID, everything was accounted for."

Sherlock regarded Barnaby a moment. "How much fuss to you think it would cause if we had the bodies exhumed?"

Barnaby's brow rose. "And why would we do that?"

"Because you know as well as I do Chief Inspector, that whoever it is that we dig up will not be the remains of Molly's family."

Barnaby's expression was unreadable." How long have you suspected?"

"Since the first message written on Molly's wall. I was convinced after the murder of William Banner." Sherlock paused a moment as if he were in deep thought. "And I am more convinced than ever that there are in fact, two of them Chief Inspector."

Barnaby nodded. "Now the question is which one of them did which particular murder and why."

Sherlock started to walk towards the lab when Barnaby stopped him. "How will Dr. Hooper take the exhumation of whom she believes to be her family?"

"Leave Molly to me Inspector. I do however think it prudent to keep our suspicions to ourselves for the moment. Molly's safety could become even more compromised if she knew her parents could actually still be alive."

"Why do I get the feeling you know more than you are saying?"

Sarah wondered if John had even realized she was missing yet. She knew his mind was preoccupied with what was happening with Molly and it was not unusual for them to go two or three days without speaking on the phone. Since Simon had taken her, he had kept her gagged and her eyes covered. She had no idea where she was, no idea what time it was, and she wasn't even certain how long she had been in his captivity.

He was such a strange and unpredictable man. One moment he was enraged, screaming at her, and beating her. The next moment he was quiet, reserved, and polite. It seemed at times that there were two of them instead of the one. Or maybe he had a dual personality. And the fact that one moment he was going to rape her and kill her and the next minute, he left her completely untouched and alone in the room where he was keeping her.

Sometimes she even thought she heard two voices, but she couldn't be sure because she had nodded in and out of consciousness. When he was gentler with her, he barely said a word to her. This is also the time when he would give her food, water, and allow her bathroom breaks. He never once took the blindfold off, taking her by her wrists instead and leading her to the washroom.

At one point in her captivity, she would have sworn she could feel a difference in the feel of Simon's skin. When he was gentle, his skin was warm and soft, almost as if his hands were well manicured. When he was abusive towards her, his hands felt rough and calloused. But she knew that was not possible. It must been the trauma of the kidnapping playing tricks with her mind.

"Alright love, I'm going out and I expect you to be a good girl while gone." Simon said approaching her. She cried out when he gripped her chin in a brutal grip, squeezing her tender bones. "Cause if you don't behave you little cunt, I'll fuck you until you bleed and then gut you like a pig."

Simon released her chin only to slap her hard across her face. "Are you listening to me you little bitch?" He snapped.

She nodded her head as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

"That's a good little slut then. And maybe, if you're a good girl when I come back, I'll fuck you anyways. Would you like that, cunt?" He asked, grabbing her face and running his tongue over her cheek.

Sherlock got back to the hotel at around 1 am. He was surprised to see John still up. "I thought you'd be snoring by now."

"I don't snore Sherlock."

"Yes you do."

"No I do not."

"How would you know if your snore, you're asleep when you're doing it and coincidentally, you do snore."

"No I do not…no…you know what…I'm not doing this with your right now. I'm worried about Sarah."

Sherlock sighed. "And why would you be worried about her?"

"Because I haven't talked to her in three days. I've left her several messages and she hasn't returned any of my calls. That's not like her."

"Nonsense. You may go two or three days before you hear from her. I'm sure she'll ring you tomorrow."

"No, I think something is wrong. I'm going to drive to London tonight and check in with her."

"Oh I'm sure she'll love being roused in the middle of the night by her over stimulated boyfriend."

"You wouldn't know what being over stimulated meant if you got a shock in the arse!"

Sherlock glared at John as he looked for his keys. Finally John turned to face Sherlock. "Alright, where are my bloody keys?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Go to bed John. Everything is fine."

"Sherlock, give me my keys."

Sherlock looked at him feigning an innocent expression. John nodded. "Alright, if that's the way you want to play it."

Without warning John pounced on Sherlock, knocking him off the sofa and to the floor. John was quite a bit smaller than Sherlock, but he had managed to knock Sherlock onto his stomach and John sat on his back, keeping him firmly pressed to the floor.

"Give me my keys." John snapped.

"You'll never get them now." Sherlock hissed. "Get off me this instant!"

John snatched Sherlock's head back by his curls.

"Owe…you're pulling my hair."

"Yes I am aware of that and I will pull it out by the roots if you don't give me my damn keys! This isn't funny Sherlock. I'm worried for Sarah."

Sherlock reached into his trouser pocket and pulled the keys out, handing them back to John. "Alright, if you're going to be so childish about it."

"I am frequently reminded while in your company that I am dealing with a child Sherlock. This is one of those moments." John said as he stood up, pushing Sherlock's face against the carpet as he stood.

John grabbed his jacket and wallet off the table and started for the door. "Bloody git!" He snapped under his breath as he walked out the door, slamming it shut.

Simon watched the young woman leave the pub. She was a carbon copy of his Molly, which unfortunately sealed her fate.

He watched as she stumbled down the dark village streets completely oblivious to the psychopath following stealthily behind her.

As she walked further and further into the night, the streetlamps grew fainter until there was nothing but the moonlight illuminated the country road she walked on.

Simon moved behind her quickly, placing his hand over her mouth and pulling her into some nearby brush. She screamed through his hand, but her screams were muffled and though she kicked out and fought, she was no match for his greater strength.

He shoved her roughly to the ground, holding a knife to her throat. "If you scream, I'm gonna gut you, do you understand?" He hissed.

She nodded, her tears sliding down her cheeks. He removed his hand. "You're so beautiful…just like her…I'm going to call you Molly, do you understand?"

She nodded, her body violently trembling underneath his. "And you are going to scream my name when you cum, do you understand. You're going to scream Simon."

"Please don't do this…" She begged.

He raised his hand and backhanded her, splitting her lip. "Did I tell you to speak Molly? Now be a good girl and do as you're told."

He reached down between them and pulled the hem of her dress up. She shrieked when he ripped her underwear from her body. She was rewarded with another brutal slap.

"Now remember what I said Molly…I want you to scream my name as I pound into you."