|home message archive theme about molly submit Thread Tracker|
It was sort of like a contract with the devil himself. Molly Hooper had agreed to work with Jim in exchange for Sherlock to be left alive. Not that Jim hadn’t already tried to kill him once. They had both cheated death; the criminal and the detective. But Molly wasn’t willing to take any more chances, and had agreed to be the lamb.
She’d been working with him since his return - they had communicated before he made his ‘resurrection’ public. Her job at Bart’s was over, and after assisting Sherlock with his final stunt, she had made it clear that she was going away. Molly hadn’t seen Sherlock since she agreed to work for his enemy. That was for the best, she felt; she was afraid to face him, afraid he wouldn’t understand what she had done, or why she had done it. But she knew she would probably meet him again someday.
It was just Jim and Molly now. They were at his rather luxurious flat in central London, overlooking everything. He had other houses too, scattered across the globe, even a few in the English countryside. But he had said he wanted to plot. Molly, who had ditched the jumpers for more formal clothes, often picked by Jim himself, focused her attention on the red wine she was pouring. She filled two glasses, one for herself and one for her boss. She brought it over to him and set it down on the table next to his leather armchair, listening to the tiny clink of glass touching glass.