You: The surrounding area was silent. It was as though there were no other people on the street. But how could that be? This part of London was always bustling.
You: A man stepped out of the shadows, dressed in a suit. "Hello, Molly dearest." He said, a hint of an Irish brogue showing in the words.
Stranger: ''Jim? No, please. Will you just...call an ambulance, something, please?'' She stumbled back, leaning against a wall, blood covering her hand.
You: "Someone poison you?" He replied, his smile widening, "Whoever would do a nasty thing like that?"
Stranger: ''Y-you? Why?'' she hunched over, in pain, growing weaker.
You: "Because it's amusing?" He waved a finger through the air, conducting an imaginary symphony. "Don't worry, love, I'll sit right here with you. You won't die alone." He paused. "I can't promise I won't gloat a little, though..."
Stranger: ''Why? What did I do to you Jim?'' tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him.
You: "I'm just trying to finish it." He pushed lightly on her shoulder. "Sit down, dear. You'll only hurry it with this exertion. You've got at least an hour." He sighed happily, "I've got nothing personal against you. But as I've gotten rid of Sherlock, it's only fair that all his little friends should go too. The good doctor is next. Drowning, I think. It'll be ruled a suicide. You'll just have had an accident with some nasty chemical in that lab of yours."
You: "I am sorry it had to hurt so much. I liked you, really. But you silly scientists don't keep any quick-acting poisons in your labs that work through skin contact."
Stranger: She fell slowly to the floor, crying. Jim thought that Sherlock was dead, but she'd rather he hurt her than Sherlock. ''This isn't fair Jim.''
You: "/Life's/ not fair, Molly dear. I had to use my back way out--I'm 'dead' and it's so, so boring. This is what I do for fun! Call it a hobby if you'd like." He laughed briefly, squatting next to her on the ground. This suit was too nice to get dirty.
Stranger: Molly felt anger growing in her. She was going to die, this man had poisoned her and she's sitting here weakly. No. She pushed Jim down and punched him hard in the face.
You: He fell back against the wall, blood pouring from his nose. "Ooh!" He exclaimed, pinching the source of the bleed. "Very nice, mmn, who taught you to punch like that, Molly dear? That /hurts/." He finished in a venomous tone, standing up and tipping his head back. "Dear heart, who knew you had the strength left for that? Oh, ouch."
You: "You know, you /were/ going to end your lonely little life in one piece, but don't push me, because I could fix that."
Stranger: ''I hate you, Jim. You can do what you like to me, I'm dying anyway remember.'' She glared up at him, anger and pain in her eyes.
You: "What was it the great detective used to say? 'You're dying, there's still time to hurt you'?" He pulled a small square of cloth out of his pocket. "Stupid bitch. I'm ruining a good handkerchief on this. Do you know how much these /cost/ in silk?"
Stranger: ''What? What are you doing?''
You: "Oh, relax. I'm stopping my nosebleed. If you've broken my nose, I will have to kill you. Oh, wait. I suppose I'll have to resort to that mother of yours." He held the white cloth to his nose, tipping his head back again. "Poor, dear old woman, living alone. Simple fall down the stairs, break a hip... I do like falls, you know."
Stranger: ''No. Don't go anywhere near her Jim.'' She pulled her knees to her chest.
You: "Oh, poor baby. You shouldn't have hit me if you didn't want me to get /mad/." He moved his fingers on his nose, wincing. "It's not broken. Lucky girl. It is dislocated, though. I suppose that merits some kind of punishment, but I think I'll let it slide. After all, I do get to watch you expire."
Stranger: ''I want you to leave, Jim. Just go. Please.''
You: "But it wouldn't be nearly as much fun if I don't get to watch!" He protested, sticking out a lip. "In any case, I can't leave. The poison unfortunately has something like a five percent chance of not actually killing you. Especially if I mixed up the dosage. But you knew that, didn't you? Smart scientist. You know what I've used."
You: "I was going to offer to put you out of your misery. I have a gun. Muggings aren't hard to fake." He paused. "But then you had to go and punch me. I was going to offer you a respite, Molly! Silly girl. Had to try and fight back."
Stranger: She continued to glare at him. Five percent chance was better than no chance at all. ''You already made my life shit Jim. You know that? You and your stupid games. Well if you want to know something, here it it - If you're that bored, get a real job.''
You: "I never did anything to make your life bad! That's mean of you to say, really, you wound me. All I did was take your detective away. And I suppose there was the whole 'dating you' thing, but do you know how many women would /die/ for the chance to date me?" He nudged her leg with his shoe, removing the handkerchief briefly to see if his nose had stopped bleeding. It hadn't. Hell, who'd taught her to punch like that? If it had been Sherlock, it would be damned near ironic. "And I do have a real job! It even has a name. Just like Sherlock's. He was me, you know. Only /boring/."
Stranger: ''Oh.../die/ for the chance...yeah. Funny. You kill my friends. And 'dating' you, if you can even call it that, was awful One of the biggest mistakes of my life, and I mean that...Sherlock was brilliant. You're a terrible human being and you know it.''
You: "But being terrible is so much more fun than being good!" He laughed. "And I'm sooo glad you caught my little wordplay. Besides, dating me can't have been that bad. You seemed perfectly happy until I waved my arse under Sherlock's nose. Were you jealous of me, dear?"
Stranger: ''I was happy. That's what made it awful. You used me, when I had done nothing to you. You made me think that you...liked me.'' She looked down, humiliated.
You: "I am sorry about that, you know." He raised an eyebrow, looking serious. "I know you don't believe me, but for a little bit I almost felt...guilty. You were a nice girl, Molly. I did like you. I just like my game more." In a brief silence, his smile spread back across his face. "Of course, pushing aside my guilt was so easy. You helped me, Molly! You're probably my best little helper. Excepting maybe Sebastian. It's a shame you need to die for my little fairy tale to play out."
Stranger: ''Why? Why do I need to die?''
You: "I told you already. Bit slow. I suppose the poison is probably working its magic. But I suppose I can tell you again. You complete my game, Molly, you finish it! Once the Doctor and the elder Holmes and the housekeeper are gone, and you too? My work will be over, so far as Sherlock Holmes goes. Maybe that ridiculous police captain as well, actually. Then I'll have to find new prey. I'll probably have to move to do it, too. There are so few adversaries quite like Sherlock..."
Stranger: ''What so you kill anyone to do with him? I would have done nothing to you, neither would John, or Mycroft or Mrs Hudson. Leave, find something else to do, but there is no point in killing his friends.''
You: "Oh, please. You lot are the only ones who know the truth. You have to die for me to be safe. I know the dear doctor for one will never rest until he's proved that Rich Brook was a fake, and although my story is absolutely perfect, I can't risk you all finding anything that might bring Sherlock's sterling reputation back. That would undo the ties on my game with him, and I just hate to lose." He tossed his phone up, catching it onehanded. Leaning against the wall, he repeated the motion several times.
You: "Did you see him after his fall? Red is really his color. Broken's a good look for him."
Stranger: She looked at him, angrily. ''Stop it, Sherlock was a brilliant man and everyone knows it. Just leave me here to die Jim.'' She fell back against the wall, breathlessly. ''Please''
You: "I would love to. You're growing rather dull. But unfortunately, you may be one of the five percent." He paused, checking a watch. "But if you'd like, I can leave you in about ten minutes. I should know by then whether you're to die or not."
Stranger: ''And if I don't?''
You: "Then I'm afraid I'll have to /use/ this gun. I promise I'll aim at the head. Make it quick."
You: "I do prefer slow deaths, but I've had enough of yours, I think."
Stranger: ''Then do it. Just...do it.''
You: "Mmn. I might have to. I suppose I owe you that. And I always pay my debts." He sighed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a gun. "British Army Browning LA91, did you know? The gun Sherlock used to use. Fitting, isn't it?"
Stranger: She look a deep breath and closed her eyes, still crying quietly. She mouths the word 'Please' over and over, looking the weakest she has done.
You: He raises it, kneeling to press the cold steel against her head. "I've got terrible aim, so I'll have to do this point blank. Any last words? Begging has become awfully typical for these types of things."
Stranger: She shakes her head. Tears still falling from her closed eyes.
You: "Goodbye, Molly." He says softly. Then his finger moves on the trigger.
You: There's a bang, and it's all over.