Molly was exhausted. She'd tried to sleep on the couch, but some of the springs had broken and dug into her side. She'd tried to sleep on the floor, but after several glass shards decided to impale themselves in her arm, she gave up on the whole sleeping idea. After a while, her inner OCD influenced her to begin cleaning.
At eight the next morning, she looked at her watch and then went to the kitchen to make coffee.
Jim heard Molly moving around and rolled out of bed, putting on a shirt and going out to the kitchen.
"Morning." Molly yawned and sleepily shoved her hair up into an incredibly messy bun.
"You didn't sleep?" He glanced around at the clean flat. "Wow."
She smiled and looked around too, finishing her coffee, but knowing the caffeine alone wasn't going to keep her awake. "There might still be broken glass somewhere."
"Thank you. You should go get some sleep now." He opened a cupboard.
"I can't, I have to go to work in forty-five minutes." She stood and rubbed her eyes.
"Take a day off." Jim took her arm and steered her to his bedroom. "Get some sleep."
She hesitantly climbed onto his bed, and he awkwardly draped the covers over her. They were still warm.
A few hours later, Molly, who had just woken up, felt the bed shift and realised Jim had sat down next to her. She didn't move, listening a bit apprehensively.
"Hi." He spoke quietly, as if he didn't want to wake her. "I'm sorry all of this happened. I really am. I just...I'm really too much of a coward to say any of this to your face. I'm sorry. That's it. I am so sorry I ruined everything." He paused. "The piano. It's irreparable. But that's what I deserve, isn't it? A broken piano for a terrible person."
Molly finally shifted and turned to face him. "You aren't terrible."
Jim startled and turned red, then hid his face. "I am so, so sorry."
She touched his face gently, so that he would look up at her. "I forgive you."
He stared straight at her, not wanting to change her mind, but not knowing what to say. Eventually, he managed a hushed thank you and took her hand in his.
Jim tried to get himself under control. He was losing it, he had almost felt tears again, which was something not acceptable if he was supposed to be the most dangerous man in London. Finally, to get the pressure of everything away from him, he looked at Molly and suddenly asked, "When was the last time you ate?"
She looked cornered, shrinking back against the pillows. After a moment, Molly said, "I had lunch at work yesterday."
"No, you didn't. When was it?"
Molly didn't answer, but he kept his eyes on her until she finally looked up.
"Go eat. Right now."
"You don't eat either," she tried.
"I do too. Go eat." he repeated firmly.
Molly stood and left the room, going to the kitchen and staring blankly into the mostly empty refrigerator. "There's nothing here..."
"We'll go out for food, then, is that alright with you?" Jim leaned on the doorframe, watching her.
"I'm not really that hungry," Molly protested, but Jim was already pulling her towards the door.
"You're a bit of a stalker, you know," John said into his coffee.
"What are you talking about?" Sherlock didn't look away from the window through which he was watching the outside of Moriarty's flat.
"You can't just leave this alone? Until you find something to get him arrested for?"
The consulting detective snorted, finally looking over at John and taking a sip of coffee. "There is so much that he could be arrested for, I just need evidence."
"Thus you break into his flat and destroy all his stuff." John rolled his eyes and looked out onto the street.
Sherlock's turned his head, avoiding the discussion completely. There was Molly, crossing the mostly empty street with Jim Moriarty. She slipped her hand into Jim's and smiled, then cast her gaze around and met Sherlock's eye. Moriarty glanced up as well, seeing Sherlock, then he shrugged and straightened up a bit. He looked as if he said something, gesturing towards Sherlock. Molly laughed and covered her mouth.
Sherlock stood and swept out of the cafe, John following close behind.
"Hello!" Jim greeted them cheerfully as he and Molly stepped up off the street. Molly kept walking, brushing past Sherlock. She went to go inside, but Sherlock caught her arm.
"Oh, come now, Sherlock, let her go inside." Jim sounded completely relaxed, not threatened by anything Sherlock could do.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes and looked down at Molly, who was standing still, but shivering. She tilted her head up to meet his eyes. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, as if asking if she was alright, so Molly shrugged almost imperceptibly. Gently, she pulled her arm out of his grip and slipped into the cafe without a word. He wanted to follow her. He should have followed her.
However, he froze as a single red dot appeared on the shoulder of his coat.
"Don't move." Jim's voice was mocking.
Sherlock gritted his teeth, but had to obey.
"You have two options at the moment." Jim sounded bored as he strolled around Sherlock to face him.
"You wouldn't just kill me right here, in the middle of day," Sherlock attempted to reason, mostly to calm himself, though his mind was slowing slightly, as it always did when a gun was pointed at him.
"Hush, Sherly, I'm still talking." The consulting criminal stayed out of the line of fire, but leaned closer to Sherlock, smiling maniacally. "Option one, you run after Miss Hooper and get your brains blown across the sidewalk. Option two, you can turn around and leave, and stop being so dreaadfully boring."
John finally spoke up, glaring at Moriarty but knowing there was no point in staying and getting mowed down by a sniper. "Come on, Sherlock."
Sherlock looked at the red dot for a moment. "I would be more influenced to choose if there was actually a gun pointed at me."
Jim grinned widely, nodding. "Good, good, BRILLIANT observation. It's just a laser pointer, which is, though, being held by my sniper. Impressed?"
Molly chose the moment to emerge from the cafe again, with a sandwich and a coffee. Sherlock glanced at her. John took the opportunity to swing his fist at the criminal's turned head.
"Jim!" Molly warned, almost as a reflex, but she was too late. John's fist connected with Moriarty's head, which jerked sideways.
"How...mature." Jim managed a sneer through a slight haze of pain, and he turned to go, taking Molly's hand gently.
John watched him leave with a satisfied smile.
