Sherlock braced himself, ready to attack Jim if he pulled his gun. But to his surprise, Jim didn't even seem to notice.
Molly faltered, not seeing the point of running. Sherlock saw her stop and shook his head. She made a face and began to walk. Soon, she was out of sight.
Sherlock let out a breath of relief. He turned to Jim and drawled, "Well? What do you want? I'm getting bored just sitting here."
Jim hung up his phone and turned to Sherlock, smiling as if seeing a friend for the first time in a while.
Molly couldn't just walk away, leaving Sherlock with that psychopath. She stopped at a small café, sitting at one of the small sidewalk tables, with no idea of what to do.
Finally, Molly pulled out her phone. She could get help.
Lestrade? He was in Belgium, visiting some family member.
John, then. Her fingers fumbled on the keys, so she had to type it several times.
John picked up on the third ring. "Hello?" He asked uncertainly. "Who is this?"
"John, its Molly." She tried to think of a way to explain what was happening. "Jim, Jim has Sherlock."
John stopped at a stoplight. He'd been driving for about an hour and a half. "Molly, Jim is dead." He said gently. "He killed himself."
"No, he didn't." Molly's voice shook. "He has Sherlock. Please, what do I do?"
John shook his head to himself. Molly had obviously taken the news of Jim's death harshly. She had dated him, after all.
"Look, I'm going to come pick you up. Where are you?" John was about fifteen minutes from London. He honked at the obnoxious driver of a Subaru and almost missed Molly's reply.
"Sherlock faked his death, why not Jim?" She challenged. "There are no street signs, I don't know where I am." To John, she sounded pitifully scared.
"You have no idea at all?" John was beginning to get nervous. It was impossible. Moriarty was dead. He had seen his body.
"I'm around the corner of The Blue Sky café. I'm going to get Sherlock." Her voice broke on Sherlock's name.
"Molly, don't." John started, but the line was suddenly dead. She'd hung up on him!
John was a bit worried now. Molly usually managed to be calm on the phone.
Cursing a bit under his breath, he headed for the Blue Sky cafe.
Jim slammed his door of the cab. "Helloo, Sherlock." He pointed to one of the buildings. "Care to join me for a little chat?"
Sherlock nodded indifferently and strode in after Moriarty, glancing to his left to make sure Molly was long gone.
Jim led the way down a long hall, full of dust, then climbed a long set of stairs. There was a room, surprisingly well furnished, if a bit dusty.
Jim gestured to an armchair and sat in one himself.
"Soo. I imagine you enjoyed the faall.." Jim grinned. "But it's spring now and things are heating up."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "What do you want?"
Molly jogged back around the corner to get back to the cab. Her mobile beeped. Once, then again a few seconds later.
She stopped and reluctantly pulled it out. They were both texts from John.
Sighing, she read them.
'Molly, do not go in there.' And 'I'm on my way.'
She deleted them and then saw the empty cab. Molly glanced around, trying to guess which building they had gone into.
At random, she chose the one with the three broken windows. Seeing footprints in the layer of grime on the floor, she headed in quietly.
Jim raised his perfectly groomed eyebrows. "Oh Sherlock, I can't just SAY it, don't be obvious."
Sherlock was lost, for once in his life. "How did you fake your death?" He asked, to cover for the sudden failure of his deductional skills.
Jim shook his head. "Telling you would be CHEATING, Sheeerlock. Do you really have no idea why you're here?" He sighed theatrically. "You took something of mine. And I'm not good at sharing, Sherly. Not, at, alll."
Molly wasn't replying to his texts. Of course she wasn't. He would have done the same.
But this was MOLLY. He reminded himself. What was going on?
He dimly remembered a Blue Sky café from one of Sherlock's cases, but he wasn't sure of how to get there.
A left here? John took the turn and immediately knew it was wrong. It didn't help that his heartbeat was beginning to race.
The worst part was, he knew he was running out of time. Anything could happen by the time he arrived. John forced the thought out of his head.
You're too late. A small voice in his mind said.
"Shut up." He said out loud.
