Chapter 14 – Unreasonable

Molly had been in the flat less than thirty seconds when Sherlock deduced that there was something amiss. All she'd said was 'hi', and the smile had died from Sherlock's face, he'd leapt up from his seat at the desk and hurried over to her, his eyes giving her the full inspection and his hands coming up to grip her forearms.

"Tense shoulders, red bottom lip where you've been biting it, avoiding eye contact, what is it, what's wrong?"

Molly swallowed, forcing herself to look up into his eyes but not managing to hold it. "I um… I had a visit today… from Jim."

Sherlock blinked a few times, taking a deep breath and shoving the rush of emotions down, his face a dispassionate mask, though his eyes still blazed something fierce as they locked onto hers and held them. "Tell me what happened." He commanded with admirable calm.

"He… he just wanted to talk. He said… he told me…" Molly struggled to keep her voice level, tears threatening her eyes, "Oh Sherlock, please tell me it's not true, tell me you didn't kidnap a little girl and hurt her just to get to Moriarty?"

"Ah." That once guiltily spoken syllable was all the confirmation Molly needed, and she fell back a few steps out of his grasp, with a ragged gasp. "No, Molly, listen! It's not what it sounds like!" Sherlock hastily pleaded, "We never actually hurt her, that's just what we want Moriarty to think!"

"He showed me pictures." Molly countered, no longer backing away, but holding up her hands to prevent Sherlock closing the gap between them.

"Yes, but they were all staged, just play acting and makeup." Sherlock explained, respecting her wish for space, but pleading for forgiveness with his eyes. "I swear, we can tap into the feed on my laptop right now, and you can see, she's perfectly fine, perfectly happy, being looked after by Mary."

Mary… was what Moriarty said about her true too? Did she even want to know? Maybe another time she'd have to ask Sherlock about it, but right now, Molly needed to focus on what was important: the girl.

"But you still took her. From her home. From her uncle."

"Yes, from her uncle." Sherlock said, with sudden sharpness "A man who you seem to be forgetting is a remorseless killer. He tried to kill you only a few weeks ago."

"So that's what this is, you getting revenge on him for poisoning me, by making him think you're hurting his little girl?" Molly snapped back.

"This is about getting a bad man off the streets, by whatever means necessary." Sherlock's voice raised in response to hers.

"Whatever means necessary? How does that make you any better than him?"

Sherlock went rigid at her statement, his jaw clenching in anger and long fingers curling into fists.

"So I should just let him go about his consulting criminal business should I? You say took her from her uncle like she wouldn't lose him when he's finally caught anyway. Or do you mean to say we should give him a free pass entirely as long as he has a niece to look after?"

"I… I don't know." Molly honestly hadn't thought about it, and thinking about it now made her head hurt. "But, please Sherlock, please just let the girl go, leave her out of this."

"What did he promise you?" Sherlock asked suddenly, "You're doubting yourself, yet you're still insisting. Did he tell you he would leave us all in peace if we gave her back? You can't honestly believe that, can you?"

Molly hung her head, shaking it sadly. "I tried, but he said you'd still have to pay. All he could promise was my safety. But surely that's - wait, where are you going?"

Sherlock had crossed to the door, wrenching his coat from the hook and pulling it on with jerky angry movements. "Out." He bit out, not bothering to do up his coat, and snatching his scarf off the hook instead. "I can't listen to any more of this. I can't stomach it."

And with that he was gone, disappearing down the stairs before Molly could call out and stop him. On hearing the door slam, she ran over to the window, watching with tearful eyes. He had been so loving and caring with her the last few weeks, she just couldn't believe he could be so heartless. All day she had been hoping he would simply tell her what Moriarty had said wasn't true, so she hadn't really planned for if he told her it was. She had let her feelings get the better of her, she knew it, and had said the wrong thing, and now she had failed. Perhaps when he came home, she could try again. She would plan what she was going to say more carefully this time, and hopefully she'd be more successful. If not…. She didn't want to think about it.

But Sherlock didn't come home that evening, and the next morning, Molly awoke to a cold and empty bed, and a heavy heart.

By lunchtime it was far worse. Kaitlin's face had been popping up in her mind all morning, and Molly was almost as aware as if she was her own child, of every minute passing being another minute Kaitlin was imprisoned, and another minute Moriarty was worrying over her. Wanting to just do something she went back out the bench she had sat at the previous day, and waited to be found. She didn't have to wait long.

"Hello. Is it me you're looking for?" Moriarty seemed to appear out of nowhere in front of her, a smug smile on his face that she had come back to him. Without asking, he took a seat beside her, looking at her expectantly and calculatingly.

"Jim." Molly practically gasped, tears quickly springing to her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I tried, but he wouldn't listen. He… he just walked out on me."

Moriarty's face fell into a frown, and he sighed looking away, not offering any comfort. "Well. That is disappointing."

"I can try John?" Molly suggested, "John will understand, he's a father. And John will be able to make Sherlock listen, he always has."

"You think John doesn't already know about all this?" Moriarty said condescendingly, "No, he's part of it alright, you won't find any help there. I had high hopes for you Molly, but seems you're not much use after all." He went to stand, but Molly caught him with a hand on his arm, forcing him to sit again, with a surprised look that said this-had-better-be-good.

"Wait, there's something you should know, something Sherlock told me. It's about Kaitlin. They never actually - Jim?"

Moriarty's head had twitched suddenly to the side, and his hand went to his neck with a curse. Molly's eyes widened when he pulled out a small dart with shaking hands, its contents drained, already coursing through his veins. He blinked several times, dropped the dart and tried to push himself out of his seat, muttering "No, no, nooo." but his feet wouldn't support him, he fell back, Molly's hands coming up to guide him down safely, settling him back against the seat as his eyes sank closed.

Her heart pounding Molly looked down again at the dart, then back to the surrounding buildings, wondering where it might have come from, and finally to the hospital doors. She didn't know what he'd been dosed with, and by whom, but the doctor in her was screaming at her to help him. It wasn't safe to leave him here, but she couldn't carry him herself. There would probably be a stretcher or a wheelchair not far inside the doors. If she could get him into it, and down to the morgue or one of the labs she could run tests-

But before she could do anything like that she felt it, the sharp prick to the back of her neck, the sudden pull of a sedative rushing into her system. She didn't need to touch it to know that she'd been darted too. Unable to fight it as Moriarty had, she felt herself slumping over, into the consulting criminals lap, her vision swimming and eyes growing heavy. The last thing she saw before she passed out was a familiar silhouette in a long coat, swooping across the road towards them.

"Sher… lock."

AN: I know, probably the most evil cliffhanger I've ever written. *Evil laugh* I'd love to hear your reactions to it in the reviews, if you'd be so kind. Thank you very much for the overwhelming support I've had for the last few chapters, in the reviews and follows.

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