How to Play a Game Called Murder

Chapter 14: Your Friendly Neighborhood Villain

The next day, Molly and Sherlock were lounging around in the living room.

Molly had changed out of her work clothes into some rather flattering jeans and a flowy light blue top, one of her purchases from when she had shopped with Mary. Sherlock hadn't taken off his dressing gown all day.

She had her nose in a novel, a very beat up copy of Pride and Prejudice, to be exact, and he was yelling at the telly, something about how neither man was the father. He caught her smothering a grin out of the corner of his eye and smiled.

It was nice to just sit there and spend time with her. Not that he would ever admit it, but he was actually enjoying himself without a case to occupy him. Just being near Molly made him happy. It was a weird feeling and one that Sherlock hadn't had the pleasure of feeling in quite a while.

The moment wasn't to last though.

Sherlock's phone rang and he absent mindedly reached for it, not checking the number before answering.

"Holmes."

"Well hello handsome!" The voice sang out. "Just your friendly neighborhood villain checking in!"

He immediately shut off the telly and put it on speaker so Molly could hear. She had paled and lowered her book when she realized who it was.

"What now?" Sherlock asked tensely. "Just wanted to congratulate you two on a case well solved. I told you that Mols would be a bigger help than your little playmate John. He might be able to shoot people for you but he certainly can't autopsy a body, can he? He doesn't keep you alive when you get shot, either." Molly gave a perplexed look to Sherlock who blushed a bit, his mouth set in a grim line.

"Mycroft's men removed your bugs."

"Not before I heard that heartwarming conversation." Sherlock pursed his lips in annoyance while Molly stared at him in confusion.

"So Sherlock, tell me, did you figure it out?"

"I already told you. It was the lover."

"Of course it was. And...?"

"Let me guess, the great consulting criminal supplied the injection. Didn't know you were involved in the biochemical field."

There was a moment of silence and then hysterical laughter. Molly and Sherlock stared at each other, completely thrown off by the giggling coming from the phone.

Once under control, the voice resumed. "Oh Sherlock, you missed the whole point. I guess I was a bit early with my congratulations."

"You gave it to him, you had to." Molly broke in, eliciting a sharp head shake from Sherlock which silenced her.

"Don't be silly, I seduced the wife." The pieces fell into place and a look of understanding crossed Sherlock's face. "Isn't that what you did to that other girl? Jeanine?"

Sherlock winced, casting a glance at Molly who seemed to be in shock.

"You used her to get to someone else. You didn't care about her at all. Just like this. Just like I that woman to get to her husband."

"But you didn't get to Jackson."

You could almost hear the shrug over the phone. "Ah well, things don't always go according to plan."

"Obviously," Sherlock bit out, sarcastically.

"This is just like when we used Molly to get to you, Sherlock. Are you using her now to get to me?" Molly looked up at that, watching Sherlock's face carefully. He ignored the question and instead focused on one little word.

"We?"

There was a pause and the voice said, "Goodbye darlings. Talk to you soon."

Sherlock slowly put his phone down and glanced over to Molly who gave him a small smile.

"Well, that could've been worse."

He looked at her like she was crazy before standing and crossing the room to pick up his coat. He put it on and began tying his scarf around his neck while Molly watched.

"Sherlock? What did they mean, I kept you alive when you got shot?" Molly was biting her lip nervously.

Sherlock paused in the middle of putting on his gloves and stared at her, debating on whether to tell her the truth or not. He decided to do it.

"When I was dying, I saw you. You were telling me how to survive." The vulnerable look that he had the night he told her she counted was on his face. "I wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for you."

They gazed at each other a moment before she looked away, blushing from the intensity of his stare.

"Come on, Molly. We need to pay another visit to Mrs. Miller."

Molly snatched up her coat, grateful for the change of subject, and put it on before asking, "Why do we need to see her?"

--------------------------------------

"Do you recognize this man, Mrs. Miller?"

Audrey peered at the display of Sherlock's phone which held a likeness of Moriarty on the screen.

"No... I think I've seen him before but definitely not someone I know. Maybe on the telly?"

Sherlock frowned. "Tell me what your former lover looks like."

"Um, he has dark hair with some grey in it. Light skin, gorgeous grey eyes."

"Any distinguishing features?" he snapped and Molly gave him a stern look.

Mrs. Miller paused. "Yes, he has a scar across the left side of his face and neck."

Molly snapped to attention, raising a brow at Sherlock. "Has he always had the scar?"

"No, no, it's pretty new. He said he had an accident on his bike."

"When was this?" Sherlock took over the questioning again, giving Molly a quelling glance.

"Umm," she searched her thoughts. "Maybe six weeks ago? Why? Is that important?"

Sherlock ignored her question. "Alright, thank you." He stood and swept towards the door, a bewildered Molly, following behind.

"Is that it?" Molly questioned as the door closed behind them and Sherlock held up his arm to catch them a cab.

"What do you mean, is that it? Now we know that the lover is the same man who tried to kill you and not Moriarty. And he said 'we' used you to get to me so it is definitely someone you have seen before."

Molly seemed to ponder this for a moment before suddenly shrieking out, "Oh my gosh! What time is it?!"

Sherlock gave her a puzzled glance but replied, "Almost eight, why?"

"I have to get home and change! I have a date tonight!" Molly yelped as she jumped into the cab, bumping her head.

Sherlock's happiness at her calling Baker Street home was squashed by the following sentence. He rode all of the way home in a sullen silence.