"What the hell was that?" John shouted once he stepped into the familiar flat.
Sherlock had been in front of him, already standing in front of the shot-up wall then crashing onto the couch. His hands were steepled over his chin and eyes shut in concentration. Within ten seconds, he hopped back up to his feet and made his way over to the kitchen filled with incomplete science experiments. The detective opened the fridge, a few body parts stashed away as usual and chemical solutions alphabetically organized. He noticed something was off and immediately figured out what it was, thinking up ways of how and why someone would've broken into the flat and put something in his fridge.
"Sherlock, did you even hear me?" John questioned.
"Hmm? Oh yes, we left a ball that my brother, Irene Adler, and Jim Moriarty attended." He replied.
"No, I meant- what are you doing?" John stopped when the detective began bending over in odd position towards the inside of the fridge.
"There is something back here and someone took out my Benedict's solution. I need it for my experiments, John!"
"Please don't shove your hand around the containers of blood that you left in there. It's disgusting since it doesn't rinse off of your hands."
"Ah-hah! What do you call a group of crows, John?"
"I'm a simple human doctor, not an ornithologist."
Sherlock lifted up a rough-looking cloud of black feathers by three sets of dark bird feet before answering, "Murder."
>>>>
Jim paced the dimly-lit room, as a tease to the girl silently sitting in the terribly unconfortable folding chair. Her arms had been tied back, as was her waist, and a gag had previously been shoved into her mouth. The girl's face was blotchy and sorrowful from crying.
"I overlooked you a while back, now I regret it. So that's why you're here in case you're wondering, Miss Hooper." Moriarty explained.
Her voice was still breathy from catching air through her mouth, as it had been gagged, "All I want...is you...to let me...go."
"Can't do that, dearie. I can have someone come down here to keep you company?"
"The only people here are killers."
"Miss Adler isn't a homicidal maniac. She would punish you for saying something like that."
Molly quietly gasped to herself and nervously swallowed down some of her fear. She had signed up for this, asking for a way to get back at the detective who never returned her affections but realizing that getting involved wasn't a good idea too late. And where was she now? Tied to a chair in some strange, shady, dark cell-room with criminals at an arm's length away. The only humour to possibly add to the situation was that this was the oddest relationship Molly had been in.
"Why do you need me? I really don't know how I would help Sherlock any more." Molly asked.
"You were his partner for the experiment of him jumping off of a large building and surviving."
"Sherlock doesn't care that much about me. He needs John loads more than he nee-"
"I tried to get John, but I found Sherly first. Which was quite easy, considering the fact that he looked comfy in his suit, like he was used to wearing one all the time, and he isn't exactly a fun-sized person.
"But why do you need me specifically?"
"Stupid girl! I told you why. I swear if you ask me one more dumb question, I will rip out your throat."
Molly gulped and completely quit talking to the criminal. He showed off a fake smile and continued to pace around her. Any time he took a single step closer to her, Molly would noticeably tense up. Jim found it to be humorous and teased her by taking a few threateningly close steps towards her just to watch her body twitch every so often.
"You're boring. Convince me not to have you killed here and now." Moriarty spoke.
"I'll help you!" Molly shrieked in fear.
"Help me with what? You're too odd or inexperienced for my avaliable positions."
"I can do what Mycroft does with John; check in with you every so often to report what Sherlock's been doing. Please don't kill me, I'll do anything."
"Ooh, not so boring after all; I knew you could serve me a purpose. Well now, you will not utter a word of this to anyone unless you would like to be burned in acid. I will contact you whenever I need to and you must tell me the truth. Pinky promise?" Moriarty pouted and held out his hand with his pinky finger childishly sticking out.
Molly knit her brows in confusion at the strange demeanour of the man in front of her, but hooked fingers with him anyway in anxiety of the consequences. He smiled back wickedly before snapping his fingers, pivoting around, and walking out of the room. A few of his workers entered the room to untie Molly and set her free, planting a tracking device to her mobile phone and adding Jim's work number to it.
The girl stumbled into the street, searching for a cab to get back to her flat. Once she returned, Molly knew that John and Sherlock had been in there due to the things slightly cleaner than before and her room being an absolute mess again. John must've tidied it up a bit throughout the investigation while Sherlock threw things around the room to find clues. Her cat was sitting atop her unmade bed and glaring at her as if to say Where have you been all this time and why did you leave me?
Molly smiled at her pet and started putting some items back into their places. She thought about the second crazy thing she had signed up for, both coming from anger towards the detective who broke her heart. Now she would have to betray him, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Lestrade, and John by being dishonest. It would be terrible to be deceiving, but at least she's wasn't dead. Molly was choosing the absolute most selfish alternative for the situation without thinking about the fact that she would have to lie to the cleverest person she knew- Sherlock Holmes.
