threepipeproblem | OTA---Molly's here! :)

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OTA---Molly's here! :)

Molly Hooper is sitting on a swivel stool in the lab. A scale with someone's former liver atop it sits in front of her, a log book and pen at her side; however, she can't concentrate. Pensive, she rests her chin in her hand and stares blankly into space. WHY did he have to be so callous?, she wondered. She'd chosen that dress especially for the occasion...for him. Now all she felt was humiliation and heartbreak. And did he have to ruin the only other relationship she'd tried to persevere with Jim from the IT department? She had actually begun to fall for him; if anyone could have dragged her away from the flame, it would have been him. That said, any unhappiness and disappointment that would follow her, Sherlock was usually at the source of it. Molly had thought about actually leaving her cats at home this evening and attending a speed-dating event down the pub that she'd heard about from one of her colleagues, but now she felt totally awkward, and completely unattractive. Why bother? The situation seemed pointless as she prodded the dead liver with tongs and pulling a face.

[OOC: Molly's depressed; somebody go and cheer her up, would ya? Also, she doesn't necessarily need to only be attracted to Sherlock in this verse; I am actually a little interested in what would have happened had Sherlock not deduction-blocked 'Molliarty' in 'The Great Game'. So, any Jim-muns, get in touch. Lestrade and Watson are game, too. :) TAGGED FOR FUTURE POST-REICHENBACH FALL STORYLINES!! ]

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[ John comes into the morgue meaning just to drop some papers off from the Surgery up stairs, and when he sees Molly sitting there looking so morose, he feels anger, mostly at Sherlock because of how he treated the poor girl. ] What'd he do this time?

[Molly hastily wipes her eyes upon hearing John enter the lab and hurriedly begins shuffling through papers in an effort to look busy. Her cheeks redden slightly at his query; ugh, she hated looking desperate. Moreover, she didn't know if he knew that Sherlock was still alive. She had to be careful.]

(halfhearted, forced smile)

What are you doing here, John? I mean, Mr Watson? I wasn't expecting you.

Bringing these down from the Surgery... [ He says placing the files on the desk. ]

You can call me John you know. Now what's got you all upset.

[Molly offers a conciliatory smile. He was always so kind and affable; she could never see what he saw in Sherlock that made him want to help him so. They couldn't have been more polar opposites.]

Oh, really.....really, it's nothing. What did you even mean by 'what's he done now'? Who exactly is...[She pauses, catching her breath, staring into John's dark brown eyes.] ......."he"?

[Her expression is nervous; she knows she's got a terrible poker face. It's pathetic, really.]

Take your pick Jim or Sherlock... need me to punch either of them in the face?

[Molly looks at John as if he has lobsters crawling out of his ears. Poor thing, the shock of everything has made him mad. Still, as much as she wanted to tell him---and she DEARLY wanted to---she couldn't betray Sherlock, not now, not while John, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson might still be in danger.]

B--but.....Sherlock's.....dead.

Are you feeling all right, John? D--d-do you need medication? Because I think I can get you a few SSRIs from the infirmary. You've been through too much; it's been terrible for all of us. [She briefly rests her hand on John's arm out of concern, then gets nervous and jerks it away. After all, she didn't want him thinking she's.....weird or something. Quickly clearing her throat, she changes the subject:]

As for Moriarty.....yes, feel free. [She pauses.]

HE'S.....ALIVE.

[ John face palms for a moment it's all he can do and and he lets out a ragged tired sound. ] Not 100 precent sure on Moriarty, but as for Sherlock, yeah he is... I punched him in the face once already, but he explained somethings. He's been hiding in 221b for a week now. Not sure how he's going to come back. You can't tell anyone Molly. [ he has no clue Molly was in on it, Sherlock hadn't been talking much. He looked like the past 24 months had been hell on him. ]

[Molly is shocked for a moment; how did he know? Then again, who knew what Sherlock had been up to all those times after he'd told her to 'trust him'. Sometimes he didn't make it home at night; all she could do was hope and pray he was being safe, and all the while he'd been holing up at home, 221b. Part of her felt a measure of relief; she didn't have to go it alone anymore, and she didn't have to pretend with John any longer.]

Wh-when did he..erm...make himself known? He'd sworn me to secrecy.

But no, I wasn't referring to Sherlock just then--I meant Jim Moriarty. He's already contacted me twice via text; he must know I know something, and I'm trying to sort of play him off....but....well, it's JIM. He's coming after me, John.

A week, he should up monday.

[ John pauses thinking for a moment. ]

We need to tell Sherlock and possibly Mycroft. We'll keep you safe Molly.

[MONDAY. Why hadn't he told her?! It was just like him not to bother; after all, she was only the person who saved his life and those around him. And especially knowing how little she 'mattered' in his equation.]

It's of no use. Not even Mycroft could stop him. I don't know that I want to go home; he's been watching me through the CCTV cameras in here and sending me creepy texts.

You could always come back to 221b... I mean it's safer there Mycroft has eyes on it... which is admittedly creepy... but you'd be safe... well safer.

[Eww. MYCROFT. She imagined that weird, slightly fey and more than slightly creepy man and sighed. But still, John was more than likely right.]

But where would I sleep there? It's not as if he has much room for a blanket and pillow, not with all those papers, lab equipment and severed heads he has lying about.

You can take my room, I'll just kip out on the couch Molly, really it wont be a problem.

You're too kind, John. [Molly smiles shyly at him.]

I'm almost afraid to go back to work. He's...he's everywhere...I don't have the wh-wherewithal to second-guess him. I guess I can become a hermit?

[And then she smiles one of those sad, hapless smiles that John has only seen a million times from her in response to Sherlock.]

It's nothing and if the couch gets to be to much I'll just kick Sherlock out of his room. [ He laughs a little. ]

Molly; Mycroft, Sherlock and I will take care of this take care of him. [ Even if John has to get out the rifle and perch on a roof top and wait for that psycho to show himself. ] We'll keep you safe.

What should I do about the hospital? They'll notice that I'm gone....[She starts biting her lip and making that nervous half-smile she usually reserves for Sherlock.]

Well, *sigh*....I know it will be fine. What can I help you with in the meantime, 'behind-the-scenes', I guess?

[She looks hopeful.]

I don't know what you should do about the Hospital.

[ John thinks for a moment and sighs. ]

I don't know we'll have to talk to Sherlock and Mycroft... we are still figuring out what needs to be done and how to go about it some things. Also you know getting Sherlock healthy... or back to his kind of healthy.

Yes....oh, I know that is of paramount importance.

[She bites her lip and tries to make a little bit light of things:]

Well....I have been trying to get Sherlock to take a multivitamin every day, but....you know how stubborn he is. I finally started sneaking droplets of children's liquid vitamin into his tea. At least perhaps that might counterbalance those sodding nicotine patches he makes me run out and buy for him every other day.

[ John huffs and rubs his hand along his face. ] The patches are the lest of my worries, but we'll get him off those... again. Sometimes you just have to force feed him.

How on earth would you do that? You act as if you've got previous experience.

(laughs)

Hide his skull, and his patches. [ He says his lips twitching a bit into a half smile. ]

You're only half-joking, aren't you? Then, that actually might work.

[She locates both within a few minutes and presents them to John.]

I'll be able to stash these somewhere within St Bart's, no worries.

I suggest you call the nearest take-away you can find.

[Smiles broadly.]

I am not joking at all actually. I took them from him before, the patches too, until he actually ate something and got some sleep. He is like dealing with a toddler sometimes. [ he says but there is a warm fondness in his voice. ]

Jim sips his espresso, knowing full well he doesn’t need the caffeine boost, the adrenaline is still coursing through is veins after witnessing Sherlock Homes’ pitiful attempt at convincing the world he took a nose dive off the top of Bart’s rooftop a few days ago. Although the ordinary people never did disappoint, they bought every ramshackle moment of it. A corpse off the top of the roof? How un-couth! He concluded that his own faux death had been far more dignified…and sexy. Still, one aspect of the events of the last few days troubled him. Sherlock could not have accomplished such a feat alone, as sloppy as the whole ruse was. And Jim knew exactly who Sherlock had employed to assist him.

With a few lazy swipes of his iPhone, he brought up live CCTV footage of Barts Morgue. It had been one of Seb’s pet projects, but it had proved useful, not least for keeping tabs on dear old Mol. Today she was looking more down trodden than ever, her mousy hair scraped back from her birdlike features, a defeated look upon her face. He couldn’t blame her; she had clearly been concealing Sherlock in her tiny little London flat. The proximity alone would mean that Sherlock’s cabin fever would have well and truly have kicked in by now. He felt his lips twist into a satisfied smirk as he considered all of the scolding deductions and constant criticisms that would be coming Molly’s way as the days drew on. She was shaking, on the verge of crying over one of her,”clients” in the drafty mortuary.

Oh yes, he would let Sherlock do his leg work for him, wearing her down until she doesn’t care that he’s not really, ”Jim from IT”, as long as he was a shoulder to cry on. He’ll let her spill every last morsel of information to him between sobs, every last detail of Sherlock’s routine, his quirks, the idiosyncrasies that would pinpoint all of Sherlock's weak spots. She’d not even know she was giving him the bullets to fire at him, poor little lamb.

Then he would teach Sherlock Holmes to play with his toys.

Lazily he strolled down to Molly’s email address, dexterous fingers scrolled out the words;

Hello Pet

Did you miss me?

x

*send*

[Molly's head jerks up at the sound of her phone vibrating. Picking it up, she sees she has a text. Silently hoping it's not Sherlock asking for yet another tiny favor, she clicks to read it, and immediately throws the phone upon the table as if it were a hot potato. There was only one other person who knew her private number, and her stomach tightened in response. How could he have survived?!!! Sherlock saw him shoot himself with his own eyes. Granted, other than Sherlock, only Jim Moriarty could pull off a stunt like that believably. Gingerly, she retrieves the phone and types in a response:]

Leave me alone.
MH

Watching Molly's reaction on CCTV pleased Jim no end, he grinned manically, time to step it up a gear.

Text Reply

"You know if you keep pulling that face, the wind will change and it'll stay that way...wouldn't want that now would we dear?

You're wearing that blouse I like though, the one you wore on our first date ;-)"

JM

[Was he KIDDING?! REALLY? Molly felt suddenly exposed and most definitely paranoid. Whipping her head around, back and forth she scanned the ceilings. There were too many cameras.....which one WAS he?!]

WHERE ARE YOU!!? GET OUT FROM BEHIND THAT VIDEOCAMERA AND SHOW YOURSELF, YOU COWARD!!

[Her voice shook with both anger and more than a little trepidation. She wanted to make herself sound formidable, but all Jim saw was a mouse with fake braggadocio.]

Enjoying the panic that Molly displayed, Jim drums his fingers on his desktop, considering his next move. Like a cat toying with a mouse before going in for the kill, he decides to make pleasantries.

"That's not very nice is it Mol's? And after all we've been through too! How's life with the new flat mate? Getting claustrophobic, much?

JM x"

*Send*

YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!!!!

[She shouts into the air in the direction of the cameras. Ignoring his obvious reference to Sherlock, Molly attempts to coax Jim out of hiding. She's not going to play the hand he wants her to play.]

(Text)

If you're going to be that
smug, then come over here
and gloat like a real man.
Whatever it is you think I
have, I haven't got it. You're
wasting your time, 'Jim from
IT'.

MH

(send)

Enraptured by Molly's sudden attempt at self assertion, Jim bit his lip at Molly's invitation to show himself, he always had been a show off. A snoop around Molly's flat could prove useful, especially as he wasn't buying for one minute that Sherlock wasn't hiding out there, why else would the poor girl look so frayed?

Text

"Ok pet, I'll drop in later, shall we say sevenish? Have the kettle on would you?"

JM x

*send*

Jim loved playing,"normal"...normal people were adorable.

[WHAT THE F....? She didn't mean her FLAT?!! And she just bet he still hung on to a facsimile of her key, you know, just for a 'special occasion'. She hurriedly texts Sherlock:]

He's found me. I
don't know how, but he's
found me. RUN FOR IT,
SHERLOCK. He's alive. And
possibly on his way to the
flat. I'm so sorry.

MH

[Then, she shakily texts Moriarty back:]

Fine. Seven it is. But I'm
hiding my cat.

MH

[Racing home, she hopes not to find Sherlock when she arrives.]

Jim saunters through his wardrobe and picks out one of his favourite Yves Saint Laurent suits, he wasn’t intending to pull any punches. If he was going to interrogate little Mol he might as well do it looking as irresistible as he could. This suit in particular would surely cause her to stutter; he loves it when she stutters.

He wondered if she would really be there, waiting for him when he got there? Would it be rude to let himself in? Of course it would, that’s exactly why he would do it.

Lounging in the back of his chauffer driven BMW, Jim types a final warning to Molly.

Text

“On my way dear. No worries about the cat, I ate before I left.”

*Send*

Fifteen minutes later Jim was typing in the pass code to the gate on Molly’s apartment building.

[Molly hears the click of the lock to her flat being opened and whirls her head round the corner of the bathroom. Thank God Sherlock hadn't returned home, and by now he knew better than to do so, based on her text earlier. The door opens and she hears a tentative footstep. Smoothing back her hair and her blouse, she whips off that ridiculous-looking lab coat and tosses it in the corner before stepping out, shaking like a leaf.

AND THEN SHE SAW HIM. This....this was not the casual Jim she remembered. Oh, dear.]

(barely able to squeak out anything)

Th--this is a different l-l-look for you, Mr Moriarty....

(looking round nervously)

Help yourself. Kettle's on the stove warming.

Jim huffed theatrically, shaking his head and walking over to the stove.

"Help myself? Good Lord Molly, even Sherlock made me a cup of tea! Here was me thinking you'd make someone a good wife!" he said flatly, his Irish tones seeping through.

Tipping the boiling water into his cup, he got to the point.

"Not here is he, your lad? Popped out for some milk or something? Don't tell me he's not been hanging around here Mol's, he's not the only one who can deduce a scene. For one this whole place smells like his bloody awful aftershave...how do you live with it?!" Jim wrinkled his nose, looking up at her from his tea cup.

[Molly's mouth went dry as she knew what she had to do; he knew something was awry. She'd practically begged Sherlock to forego his usual morning cologne, but arguing with Sherlock was pointless. Biting her lip, she assessed Moriarty, who was blithely sipping from his cup, an amused expression on his face. Heaving a big breath, she walked towards him as deliberately as possible, swiftly sweeping the teacup and saucer from his hands, setting them on the counter, and pressed her lips to his in a fervent kiss.]

He hated to admit it but he was surprised, and in Jim Moriarty's world, a world that he wondered through lonely and perpetually bored out of his mind,"surprised" was a rare treat. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy the sensation of her hands roaming up to his hairline and tugging at his scalp.

It took more will power than it should to break the kiss and hold her jaw, just millimetres from his own. Just enough so he could search her eyes.

His horse voice gave him away somewhat,"What are you doing Molly? You have no idea what you're playing with here."

His sentiments were for once genuine, perhaps for the first time. He wanted her to know that if she went down this route with him, there was no going back.

[Molly shook at his statement; she knew it was true. However, if this is what she'd have to do to protect Sherlock and distract Moriarty, she would sacrifice herself. She hadn't any other choice. Breathlessly, she closed her eyes and nodded 'yes', the silence deafening, the feel of Jim's breath against her neck making her hair stand on end.]

JIM...

"What if dear old Sherlock walks in hmm? What then? That would somewhat put the dampers on this little set up that you have?”

Jim gestured around at the dreary looking flat, firm in his theory that Sherlock had been hiding out there.

“On the other hand...” Jim pressed himself against her until their bodies were flush,”...it would be fun to mess up his bed wouldn’t it?” Jim spoke in the naughtiest of tones, his eyes darting in the direction of the bedroom.

[Molly wasn't about to give in; at least, not in that way.]

Sherlock isn't here, Jim. I don't know if it's wishful thinking on your part.....I.....just wish you'd shut up.

[Backing him up against the door frame, she braces herself against it with her knee, trapping him as she kisses him again, this time violently.]

Taking Molly's face in his hands he broke the kiss and smiled, a genuine smile that reached right up to his glistening eyes. Things were going well...

"Ok sweetheart, have it your way. But when it all gets too much and he's got you in such a state that you don't know which way is up...you'll know where I am." he swiped his hand gently down her face and went to make his exit.

[Molly didn't want him to leave, as much as she knew how bad that could be. But he had made her feel a flash of something that was completely unlike her. It was daring and dangerous, and she'd never been cast in a 'bad-girl' role, not once in her life.]

Sherlock doesn't live here, but I know he's alive. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?

[The words flew out of her gob faster than she could control her speech. Oh God. What had she just done? But then, Sherlock had used her, charmed her, only to use her again to get what information he needed from her at any given time. He was so analytical, he didn't even realize that he was hurting her; it was simply a means to an end. He was never truly interested in her, and deep down, she knew he never would be. It was probably her angst and her desperation and her anger towards Sherlock that she blurted out:]

Please. Please, don't go.

Still turned away from her, as though to make his exit, Jim closed his eyes for a moment to savour the moment. Turning on his heel to face her,"Thats more like it now..." he cooed in sweet, patronising tones,"...tell me, why should I not leave right now? If your man 's not here, what pray tell is my reason to stay?"

He knew what he was doing, he could see something stirring within her, just under the surface. All he had to do was find the right button to push, and who knew what little Molly might be capible of.

[Her eyes stared at the floorboards as she pondered his query. This was revenge. She was so humiliated by Sherlock, and had been for the last time. This was for him.]

Because you don't really want to leave, do you, Jim?

Placing his arms either side of her, resting his hands on the formika work top that she leaned against, he effectively had her trapped.

"No, not at all pet, but what are you going to do to make me stay?"

[Unbeknownst to Moriarty while he had Molly trapped against the counter, she'd opened the drawer directly underneath it and grabbed a pair of handcuffs that Sherlock had nicked from Lestrade for just this sort of occasion (well, maybe not exactly...). In one swift move, she pushed Jim against the adjacent door frame and cuffed his wrists behind his back.]

I don't think you have much of a choice any more, Moriarty.

With the familiar rasp and click of the handcuffs Jim's heart began racing, not out of fear of what she might do, oh no, out of anticipation of what she might do.

"Oh goody you want to play?!" he shot her a smile of genuine excitement, he didn't mean to look so giddy but he loved nothing better than when someone tried to stand up to him. He had always had a thing for this Molly girl, from the moment he'd taken her for coffee, back when he was,"Jim from IT". No one could be that pristine and pearly white all the time, there had to be something a little dirtier, just under surface.

"Come on then Petal, what are your plans for me now?" He shrugged, arms pinned behind his back, he could not repress a mischievous chuckle, "...I'd say not to worry, because I don't bite. But that would be a big lie!"

Oh, I'm quite sure you do.

[Molly stared at the clock; it was growing dark and she prayed Sherlock would stay gone for the night. Would shagging him senseless work? Even the great Jim Moriarty had to have a weak spot. The air was silent; all that could be heard was the sound of their breath. Her eyes shifted to focus upon Jim's, and his dark eyes burned with shock, adrenaline, and something else she couldn't quite discern.]

Jim eyed her up and down, not making any effort to hide the lust that was accumulating within him. She looked different in casual clothes, she was such a tiny little thing all fine bones and porcelain skin. The air of apprehension had passed over her now and she was looking at him like he was...prey.

She closed the space between them and scrutinised him intensely, as though dreaming up all sorts of fitting punishments. In his lowest most predatory tone he uttered into her ear, ”Come on then, show Daddy what you can do.”

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OTA---Molly's here! :)

:D

:D (!!!)

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Did you miss me?

Yes, she did. Rawr! ;)

Re: Yes, she did. Rawr! ;)

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Check out the movie reference in here, still LMFAO...

Re: Check out the movie reference in here, still LMFAO...

OH, GOD. *dies at that image*

Re: OH, GOD. *dies at that image*

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POW!!!! Beat that!

Re: Daddy's no where near bored now...

[This thread now has an M rating. Be warned!]

Re: [This thread now has an M rating. Be warned!]

OH, GOD. dies at that image

Re: OH, GOD. dies at that image