Molly stepped out into the teeming street, buttoning her jacket up to the neck and pulling on a pair of leather gloves. She pulled down her hair and a pair of glasses, unfortunately people were noticing her more and more since Sherlock came back. A few simple items and changes to her look seemed to be working for the moment.

She paused, pretending to make a call on her phone as the demon walked past her, she turned her head, watching him over the rim of her glasses.

Bingo.

Guy reeked of death, a smell most missed, simply because they didn't want to notice it, but she couldn't get away from it.

She looked down at the ground giggling lightly, as the creep turned back to check behind him.

Skinny, too skinny, tatty and torn clothes and massively holed shoes. Homeless, Molly had to hope that he wasn't one of the Network. Sherlock had already caught Dean's scent, the last thing she needed was for him to catch hers.

Poor kid, about 17, a stunted 17, but judging by the clothes and shoes, not newly acquired and as she turned and casually tracked him, turning on her iPod, hands deep in her pockets, he'd probably been on the streets for at least 5 years. Burn scars on his neck, dating back that far, cigarette burns most likely. She shook her head, as she flicked up her collar, holding back a few metres. As she caught sight of herself, she glanced around wincing and smoothed it back down.

Soon enough they were walking along the River Thames, past the Globe and Molly made to head across the Millennium bridge. She stopped about of a quarter of the way over and leaned back against the railing.

She tapped her foot idly to the music, watching the demon hanging around outside the Tate. He looking anxious, not a trait that she'd ever really associated with a demon before. Suddenly he tensed, Molly tried not to freeze as well, for fear that she'd blow her cover, but the demon was looking in the opposite direction.

He walked around the side of the Tate, Molly trying to remain inconspicuous as she tracked him. Alas, she may have underestimated her trackee she mused as she was slammed into a wall.

'What are you doing?'

'Stumbled down the wrong alley?' She tried, suppressing the wince as she pulled away from the wall.

Luckily, he was as green as Molly thought him to be, he was too busy panicking about being caught to notice that she was lifting her leg and reaching for a knife. She sliced upwards, ripping open a serious wound from gut to clavicle, rotating as he stumbled backwards and kicking him in the gut. He groaned as she moved,ripping out something attached to the inside lining of her jacket. The pain radiating in his cest from the holy water soaked knife stopped him from noticing her attach a handcuff to the closest bin railing, but he copped as his arm was yanked up but it was too late.

'What the fu-' She slammed her hands around his wrist as fast as she could, so he would be able to get free.

'Yeah sorry about that, warded handcuffs are such a pain aren't they?' Molly shoved him backwards with her leg, sighing as she noticed the blood stains up her boots.

'Damn, I'm going to have to clean those.'

She bent down, bouncing on her the balls of her feet, pulling out her gun and tapping off of her thigh.

'I'm going to need some answers.'

'I don't know anything.'

'Oh even you lower level rats know something. You should have a little more faith in yourself.' She tapped him on the leg with the gun, shaking her head mockingly at him.

'Then you'll kill me, I don't see any benefit, either way I'm screwed, so I'd prefer to stick it to some chick Hunter.'

'I'm not going to kill you, the kid you've ridden to death has had enough crap in his life. I'm going to exorcise your ass.'

At this, the demon started to react, kicking out and went to yell out, but Molly gagged him. Shaking her head once more, she paused, standing up and listening to the hubbub of the city before loud clammerings of music starting ringing out.

Yeah I didn't think you'd like that option. I hear hell is all kinds of upside down and inside out. Annnnnnnnnnnd I'm pretty sure that the demons who talk to Hunters are at the bottom of the food chain. Killing you? Not really punishment enough.' His eyes flashed black in rage and fear, and Molly smiled ripping the gag from his mouth.

'Hooooowever, if you agree to talk, then I'll well I'll make it easy. Deal?' Molly leaned back down, staring at the demon curiously.

'Okay! Okay!'

'Hear anything about Jim Moriarty?'

'No one knows how he did it! Someone higher up kept whatever Moriarty had quiet.'

'But he had a deal of some sort?'

'Not a crossroads one.'

'Higher up…. How much higher up?'

'Pretty high.'

'Crowley or Abbadon high?'

'One of their Lieutenants I think.'

'We're in England dear, it's LEFTenant. Not that. Mind the Queen's English.' The demon's jaw clenched and his eyes blackened.

'Okay we had a deal, didn't we?' Molly reached around to the back of her jeans, steadying herself on the demon. In a flash she had the handcuff of his hands, chanting an exorcism and winged him with a silenced gun. The demon roared as back off, shooting him once more in the foot with an iron round, wincing internally at what she was doing to the kids mangled corpse. Unfortunately just as she was finishing the demon managed to get a lucky shot it and gave her a long cut all her own with a knife. As he smoked out she panted against the other way, cursing and moaning in pain.

She shimmied off her jacket and stared down at her now ruined t-shirt, muttering in annoyance. Ducking behind the bin, she yanked of her shirt, inspecting her wound as best she could, not too deep, she could patch it up with only a slim chance of a faint scar. She cut the torn part of the cotton off, pulling the remains back on and taking out a roll of bandages from her holster bag.

Molly strapped herself up as best she could, wrapping the torn cotton around her to try to staunch the bleeding. Then she went about clearing up the blood that might have been hers, before leaning down and closing the kids eyes. Thank goodness she had the foresight to wear her leather gloves.

Poor kid.

She took out her new burner phone and flicked through the apps, Molly had always kept a nest egg in case she needed hunting equipment again. This phone wouldn't track back to her either, and it was a smartphone. Which was handy given its voice scrambler app, well more like voice disguise app.

She ducked round the Tate and disappeared down one of the side streets, after leaving a message with an officer down that there was a body down at the Tate.

It was the least she could do for him.

She was trying to bite down on the pain as she tried to walk normally down the street, Molly needed to hurry the blood was seeping through her bandages, it was beginning to stick to her jacket, and the smell wouldn't take long to be detected. She didn't have time to be hanging around, as she headed back to her flat.

'OH GOD' The words slipped out a lot louder than Molly would have ever wanted them to, unfortunately the rolling of her stomach caused by the pain, ensured that wasn't happening.

'Molly?'

Oh shit. Molly slowly turned round to see a heavily pregnant Mary Watson standing behind her, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Fuck.

'Mary, hi.' She smiled as brightly as she could as the other woman's head tilted, movements oddly controlled. Molly kept her breathing even and measured as the blue eyes swept over her.

'Are you alright?'

'Self-defence class got a little out of hand. Didn't realise it was that bad.'

'Well you should go take care of it.' Mary laid a gentle hand on her arm and smiled softly at her. Though all sweetness and fluff, the hairs on Molly's neck rose, something was off, now she was sure of it. But what exactly could a heavily pregnant woman be capable of?

Though it could be why John moved back in with Sherlock for a while…

'How are you?' Why she asked the question, Molly couldn't tell you, and she was kicking herself as the words came out. Though it would have been uncharacteristic if she hadn't.

'Oh good, besides having this little one kicking me up a storm and Sherlock trying to get us to call her Sherlock. What sort of name is that for a child anyway?'

'It's not even his given name. He's actually William.'

'How did you-'

'Helped fake his death remember? Birth certificate is a necessary part of that.'

'Oh you're very good.' It was eerie how at times, Mary would sound so much like Sherlock... And it wasn't from being his friend either, ti was more like they were made of similar stuff... She couldn't be a sociopath though... Could she?

'I suppose I might be. I better go, I think I need some ice and a big glass of wine.' Molly tried to laugh it off, however the hairs on her neck will still sky high, Mary was watching, deducing, she had to play it right.

'And some ice cream I would wager?'

'And waste what good I just did? Yes. That is needed.' Both women laughed lightly before heading their separate ways.

The moment Molly stepped foot onto the stairs to her flat, she knew that something was off, very off. The gun was once more in her hand kept in line with her other as she unlocked the door slowly, back pressed up against it.

'Oh for fucks sake Sherlock.' She stopped, hitting one of the walls, side screaming in pain now as she looked around her empty flat.

And she meant empty.

Not a thing left in her flat, except Toby. Of course the bastard left Toby behind.

She picked him up and knocked on the door of Mrs. Moran next door.

'Hi sorry, do you mind taking Toby for a while? Something's after coming up…'

'Oh of course dear, he's a delight.' As Mrs. Moran hugged the cat, uncomfortably close to her chest, she could feel her cat want to kill her. Don't blame Tob's. It's all Sherlock's fault.

'Thanks.'

For once Molly seemed to have caught Sherlock off guard as she kicked the door open, breathing heavily. Her stuff was gone, her side was killing her, she had to leave her cat with her nutty neighbour and now she was dealing with Holmesian antics.

Fuck it to all hell.

'Fix it.' She hissed, not giving him a moment to respond as she spun round and stormed off, door to both the living room and 221B cracking slightly as she slammed them shut behind me.

She staggered into her newly acquired safe house, with a lifted first aid kit and a bottle of 60 proof vodka.

She sat down on the table, ripping of the jacket and shirt and opening the first aid kit. She took a shot of vodka before pouring the vodka down the cut, luckily she was biting down on a leather belt, one she pinched from Sherlock. Then she bandaged herself up, fortunately it wasn't deep enough to need stitches, but man did it sting like hell.

She jumped grabbing a knife and spinning around as a whistle echoed in the room.

'If that pretty boy hasn't jumped you, I sure will.'

'Dean!'

Molly turned and pulled on a hoodie as she turned around and crossed her arms. The man in question was smirking at her deviously, eyes roaming over her, not observing the bristling and jaw clench.

'If I was there, I'd be handing you your ass right now. Say something like that about me or anyone else, I'll make sure you don't have any fun.'

As Molly smiled cutely at the screen, Sam was chuckling in the background giving her a thumbs up as Dean visibly whitened, holding his hands up in an attempt to pacify her.

'So what tickets am I booking?' She asked as she sat down, grimacing and taking another shot of vodka.

'How about a boat?'

'You own a boat?'

'Dean we're not getting a boat to England.' Both boys ignored Molly's attempt at humour and opted for glaring at one another. Molly thought about the ferry option, shaking her head slowly.

'I am not paying for a ferry. Right. Wednesday, six thirty flight, JFK.' She opened a window and found the cheapest flights that she could get at such short notice. She looked up smiling as she hit the return button in a melodramatic fashion as Dean looked aghast.

'But-'

'Sorry I gotta go take a million pain killers. Good night gentlemen.' Molly grinned waggling her fingers as she closed the laptop slowly.