'Roughly a litre of blood I'd say, the donor could easily still be alive.' Molly followed Mary back into the room, to find Sherlock leaning over the whip and blood drenched box. Mary turned and smiled sympathetically which stilled her blood, which helped her more than it hindered her act.

Odd.

Molly sat down at the kitchen eyeing the package, lip curling in distaste; Sherlock looked up at her, eyes flickering over her quickly. She looked up at a spot somewhere over his head, training her eyes on it. Greg stared at her, eyes nothing more than slits but focused back on the box. Mary stood in her living room, stroking Toby almost passively much to Molly's chagrin.

She sighed, pulling a chair over and sitting down, burrowing her face in her hands.

Who in the heck was the king?

Was Moriarty involved?

How was he involved?

How did it all tie together?

She stood up waving off the looks of concern from John and Greg and headed into her bathroom. It wouldn't take long for Sherlock find the compartment in the box, so she had to act quickly. She pulled out the note, tucked it in into a slit in her bra, and stared at her reflection, arms bracing either side of the sink. All she had were questions, and no answers, as much as she adored a challenging puzzle, it needed to be a fair one.

Her Hunter phone buzzed and Molly lifted her leg uncomfortably. One handy thing about her penchant for looser trousers; was that she was able to hide her untraceable phone by strapping it to her thigh. She locked the door lowered her pants, taking out the phone and reading the message.

Landed in Gatwick. Will be in the city centre in three hours there, thereabouts. –SW.

You better supply me with something to knock out Dean with for the return journey though. SW.

Just in time, I was given a very unpleasant gift this evening. It's starting. –MH.

She put the phone back as the lock began to click and rumble and pulled up her pants as fast as she could. She turned on the tap and splashed her face quickly, the door swung open and Sherlock stood there watching her.

Molly didn't turn towards him, only looking at him out of the corner of her eyes, water dripping off the end of her nose. Neither of them spoke, the only noise being the plonk of the water droplets onto the ceramic of the sink. Eventually she grabbed a towel and patted dry her face.

'Did you find a slip of paper? Possibly made from recycled book paper.' He asked in a rather reserved tone, eyes flickering downwards to the tiled floor.

'No, I didn't see anything of the sort with the package, why was something found?'

'Found missing. There is a slit between the wrapping and the water tight box, trace evidence leads me to believe that there was a note of some sort hidden there.'

'Maybe it was a note for the delivery person. A thank you? A threat?'

'You're very calm.'

'I'm a pathologist Sherlock, a bit of blood and a whip is hardly enough to send me screaming into the wilderness.' Molly finally turned to face him, hip leaning against the sink and folding her arms across her chest, rolling her eyes. Sherlock's eyes zoomed up, all shades of electric blue and yellow, a smirk playing about his features. He shut the door behind, locking it and standing right into her personal bubble.

This wasn't Sherlock trying to deduce her, this was Sherlock trying to get her fight or flight reactions to kick in. His arms were bracketed on either side of the sink, encasing her in his presence.

'You keep this up and people will talk Sherlock.'

'That's what they do. Why aren't you reacting normally?'

'This is normal.'

'Not for you.'

'My life is more than likely in danger, I can't be weak anymore.'

Sherlock let go which had Molly's head whipping from one side to another and up at him in confusion. His face was tight, the look not to dissimilar to his one of great sadness, but different enough for Molly not to be sure what it meant.

'You've never been weak.' The words caught both of them by surprise and before she could respond he was going in an overly dramatic whirl of the coat. Her face contorted as she heard Greg and John call out after the fleeing man. From predator to prey, she had not seen that coming.

Her heart hammering on the other hand; that was something she knew was going to happen. Why did he have to smell so damn good?

A couple of hours later, Molly was walking around the Natural History Museum, pausing at the Tyrannosaurus Rex. Little kids gushed and scampered around her as she carefully watched out for her contacts.

Late. Not something she liked, was it a power play by the two trying to establish a higher ground. They missed the point that Molly didn't need power, the false assumption the other half had it simply handed it to her.

Convoluted, but Molly Hooper was not one for an easy life.

And suddenly she felt them enter the building, her back was to them but their presence was overwhelming. She tucked her hair behind her ears and walked the up the stairs, looking at Charles Darwin.

'Fascinating man, Darwin.' Sam stood next to her, towered way over her head actually, cocking his head at the statue.

'Oh yes, did you know he ate every animal he encountered? Including drinking fluid from a tortoises bladder? He also rode them.' She told him, tilting her head in a similar manner; Dean leaned over looking at the pair with his eyes narrowed in bafflement.

'What?'

'Nothing wrong with expanding one's mind, Dean.' Sam replied, rather snarkily and Molly suddenly felt that she was in the middle of a very tense family situation.

'So, welcome to England.' She cut across the pair in order to diffuse the argument about to brew up. She noticed they were getting some looks and made to move to the massive group of tourists.

'Okay, this is not the place to talk, lady.'

'Doctor. I think I may have a tail, I thought I shook him in TopShop. Ah shit.'

'Demon?' Both boys spoke in unison as they followed her fast pace through the crowd of people.

'No. The British bloody government.'

'What?' Molly stopped and gave the brothers a look, they had spoken several times in unison in their video chats and conversations, but in person; it was just plain weird.

'A friend, well I say friend, his brother works for the government, very hush hush and well given the situation...' She rolled her hand at them but noticed Dean was squinting at her mouthing the word friend. Sam just shook his head minutely at Dean, mouth open, both pissed off and dumbfounded.

'Frieeeeeeeeeeeeeend?' Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and Molly just made a tiny noise from the back of her throat and turned away.

Sam caught up with her in one stride and Dean trailed along behind, trying to work out the meaning of the exaggerated friend.

'Is he always like that?' She muttered under her breath to Sam curiously, ignoring Dean's own mutterings and musings behind them.

'Pretty much.' The weariness in his voice was palpable but there was an underlying warmth, one only siblings could have for one another. She heard it on rare occasion from both the Holmes brothers, despite their outward frostiness.

'Oh.'

'Yeah.' Molly looked at him, neck craning, mouth open going to start a sentence, but thought better of it and checking their tails status.

'I think we lost him, thank god for packs of tourists.' She sighed as they made if back into the city, sans the far too well dressed man behind, but was aware that she had to be vigilant for the Homeless Network.

'I didn't realise you had such powerful friends...' Sam rubbed the back of his head, glancing around him, trying to see what Molly had seen.

'Determined too. Turns out you just can't be normal if you were a Hunter.' She laughed but stopped quickly as it came out very hollowed and depressed.

'We're all freaks.' Sam muttered, not quietly enough for Molly not to catch it, seemed to mean something more than the usual hunter weirdness.

'At least we have our eyes open to the world.' She patted his arm in an attempt to be reassuring, but both of them just ended up looking at each other tiredly.

'I'm not a freak!' Sam's head just dropped as Molly stared at him in consternation, her opened and closed several times, no words springing to mind. She simply narrowed her eyes, shaking her eyes before puffing up her cheeks.

'As if my life wasn't complicated enough as it was, now I have this.' She rubbed her left temple and Dean stood right in front of her.

'This? You asked for our help lady.'

'Doctor. I need people who can help me, not hinder me. Now back off, there are people who know who I am, I do not need my friends finding out about my new American friends.'

'You say American like it's a bad thing.' Dean stood back, and came very close to pouting at her words. All the same, God and country. Molly was now rolling her eyes internally and damning her father for forcing her into this situation. British hunters would have been so much easier.

'It's not like you guys have the best reputation.' She shrugged as they turned towards Piccadilly and the safe house.

'You have a bad reputation.' Dean went to cross his arms, but dropped them and moved to cross them once more. Sam looked at those he was ranting mentally so as to avoid strangling his little brother and Molly's face just slackened.

'Oh stellar wit Mister Wilde.' She retorted, once she had recovered from his pathetic put down and just stormed ahead. This is not what she had signed up for. She could only hope, pray and dream that this case either was solved quickly, or killed her quicker.