The detective was just about to answer when he made a realization, all thoughts of John's last statement moving to the back of his mind.
"There's a bomb in the flat."
"What?"
"Mrs. Hudson said Molly came here yesterday to drop something off. Moriarty controls her every action, what else would she leave?"
"Alright. But what about the restaurant? You started this and now your rejecting it...dick."
"I'm not rejecting it, it'll be for tomorrow's dinner. There is an explosive and we need to find it."
Little clicking noises echoed in the small hallway from Sherlock's bedroom to the living room. Maire was bounding towards the two men with a giddy sparkling in her amber eyes. The detective kneeled down and lifted the puppy into his arms, standing back up to look around for where Molly would have hidden something. John's arms were crossed and his gaze fell onto Sherlock and Maire. It amused him to see such a serious man lovingly carrying a tiny puppy in his arms as he squinted at various nooks and crannies that had the potential of hiding a bomb.
"Hey genius, look at your dog." The doctor snickered.
"What? Why?" Sherlock asked, still eyeing the wall.
"You'll be interested to see what she's found for you."
He stood up straight and looked down at his Christmas present, discovering that she was holding a small box in her mouth. It was very simple and moderately heavy for its size, similar to the box Sherlock had for the fake bomb. Once opened, the contents were satisfying- wires and metal with a stopwatch counting down time. They had three minutes left to figure out where the off-switch was and deactivate it, which proved to be extremely simple for the detective who had dealt with similar situations before.
As soon as the off-switch was located and flipped, Sherlock threw the box over his shoulder and pet his puppy's head a few times in praise. John had remained silent, only watching him interact with this animal in a way that he had never seen before. When he was truly happy, Sherlock was a completely different person and John was proud of himself for providing the cause of his happiness. A stampede of footsteps going up the stairs broke the thoughts of both men as they turned to see who had decided to come in.
"Did you boys get it all sorted out? It's quite nippy out there." Mrs. Hudson said.
"Yes, we got it all taken care of. It's completely safe now." John replied.
"Not to be negative, but you couldn't have worked a bit faster? I can't feel my toes now." Lorelin complained.
"I think half of that time was simply spent on discussion with John." Mycroft remarked.
"I wouldn't doubt it." Lestrade murmured.
"Okay, give it up everyone. This is ridiculous." Lorelin sighed, "We came back in a minute later because it was freezing and heard just about everything. Congrats on your date tomorrow to both of you, by the way."
Sherlock looked down at Maire, not responding towards anything while John let out an awkward cough to clear his throat before thanking her quietly. The girl rolled her eyes at the fact that John was so uncomfortable with being honest to himself and thinking that he would be harshly judged by the people closest to him. Everyone managed to find their own seats again and strike up their conversations again until the end of the night.
>>>>
"Has it been done yet?"
"No, it's passed the time and nothing's happened. Sherlock stopped it." Molly replied nervously.
"What?! I gave him the easy option tonight by just letting me blow him up peacefully, but noooo...he has too much faith in himself surviving with me at his back. I swear to skin him alive when I get a chance to."
Molly gulped at the criminal's words of madness. She had been sitting in her dim flat with her cat curled up in her lap for the last five minutes. Earlier, however, she had been keeping a close eye on 221B for Moriarty, as a way of continuing to repay her debt to him. He instructed her to plant a small bomb inside the flat, carefully hiding it from the doctor and the detective. But he had been wise and knew what Sherlock had gotten for John, working their weaknesses for each other into his new plans of torture.
"Is there anything I need to do now?" Molly asked, her heart pounding from anxiety since this man was so unpredictably extreme.
"Of course there is, honey. Try not to panic at this but, you're going to have to speak to this next guy over the phone. I'll hand it to him and listen carefully. Bye!" Moriarty spoke joyfully.
"Alright." Molly said breathily.
"Mr. Moriarty has interesting plans for you." A gravelly female voice spoke, sounding as though this woman had been a heavy smoker for at least 20 years.
"Uhm, okay..." Molly furrowed her brows.
"You've been quite terrible to your friends and family. You abandoned them completely, cutting yourself off for one selfish act that got you connected to the wrong group of people. No one trusts you any more, you're like Irene Adler. But not nearly as clever. And you haven't ever captured the attention of that handsome detective, now have you? You're practically worthless now." The woman continued.
"Please stop." Molly asked.
"I can't, I'm actually fulfilling my duty. Unlike you, who can't even manage to hide a parcel successfully. Jim was considerate to you, he's not making this too horrifying for you. He left you a gift on the table, take it and use it. You don't have anyone or anything left that cares about you. Molly Hooper, you're dead in their hearts so might as well be actually dead. Not going to make much of a difference, is it?"
Streaks of tears began to cascade down her cheeks from her soft eyes as she began to believe these harsh words. Her mind would have told her to just end the call, but the woman speaking had mentioned that Moriarty was being considerate. This lead to her assumption of Jim wanting her to die, commit suicide to make it neater, and there was no escape of it. Either she would have to do it, or Moriarty would do something repulsive to kill her. Molly took her shaky hand and grabbed the bottle from the table which contained a clear-coloured, yet sharp-smelling liquid. She knew what it was and was sure it would kill her. After all, many people had taken their own lives away through the same method. Molly was ready, no note needed since no one would care enough apparently. The bottle was raised to her mouth as she poured the poison down her throat, letting herself slowly feel the terrible pain before turning completely unconscious and numb.
