The Return of the Self-Rescuing Princess
Mar. 10th, 2018 01:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darnedchildSummary: Jim Moriarty and Sherlock Holmes reunite to rescue Molly Hooper from the threat of Eurus Holmes. Again.
Rating: PG
A/N - SAW 2018 Day Six – (Canon Compliant – The Final Problem) or (Non-Canon/Head Canon – Late Marriage/Grandchildren)
Because why not have one more sequel this week - here’s a sequel to “The Self-Rescuing Princess” crack!fic I wrote a bit ago. As you can guess, this too is crack!fic.
The Return of the Self-Rescuing Princess
Sherlock let himself into Molly’s home using the key she’d given him ages ago. Something about being tired of wondering if the ominous jiggling of the doorknob was someone breaking in to steal her mother’s pearls or just “an inconsiderate consulting detective who refused to acknowledge other people’s personal boundaries”.
He knew he should have probably been insulted, but he’d ended up with his own key so he let it go with only a grumble or two.
Mrs Hudson had gone off on a weekend holiday, leaving no one to stock up on the milk or biscuits at Baker Street. Molly always tended to have plenty of both, along with an uncanny ability to help him see things from a slightly different perspective when he had a particularly annoying puzzle to solve.
He headed straight for the kitchen, craving a ginger biscuit and a cup of tea, only to pull up short at the sight of Jim Moriarty leaning over the counter with a forkful of crumbly baked good halfway to his mouth.
Jim slowly set the fork down on the plate next to a half-finished piece of peach pie. He delicately dabbed at his lips with a serviette, then folded it and placed it next to the plate.
“I’d offer you a slice, but this was the last one. Sorry.” Jim didn’t look sorry. If anything, he looked rather pleased with himself.
Sherlock took a deep breath through gritted teeth. “Molly?”
Jim picked up his cup of tea and smirked over the rim before taking a sip. “Guess.”
“My sister again?” Mycroft’s men hadn’t been able to track Eurus down yet, but Molly had absolutely refused to agree to protective custody while they looked.
“Got it in one.” Jim stood and dumped the last of his pie into the trash pin, then set the used plate in the sink.
Watching the other man make himself at home in Molly’s kitchen was really beginning to get on Sherlock’s nerves. “Moran?”
“Not this time.” Jim leaned against the counter and finished his tea. “Seb learned his lesson on that front. No, this time she managed without dipping into my payroll.”
“If you aren’t missing one of your black sheep, then why are you here?” Sherlock itched to yank the cup out of Jim’s hands and push the other man out the front door. He wondered just how many times Jim had come into Molly’s house while she was gone. He chose to ignore that he’d done the exact same thing less than ten minutes ago.
“Hello? Look at this kitchen.” Jim threw his hands out wide. “You know the magic she creates in here.”
“You came to rescue Molly, again, because of cake.”
Jim sneered, somehow managing to look both insulted and condescending at the same time. “I can’t be bought with a simple cake. I’m not your brother.”
Sherlock considered it for a moment. “Point. So where has Eurus taken her this time?”
இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—
They tracked Molly to the basement of a tenement that was scheduled for demolition.
Jim paused at the bottom of the stairs and grimaced when he stepped into a dark puddle under a dripping pipe.
“Just pretend it’s the blood of your enemies and keep moving,” Sherlock hissed, although he did make sure to carefully step around the puddle himself.
“Wouldn’t work. You keep talking. It ruins the illusion.”
They crept past a few open doorways, large storage rooms filled with piles of junk and broken shelves. Jim pointed toward a door with a small patch of light visible beneath it.
Sherlock held out his hand expectantly. Jim looked at it, shrugged, and put his own in it. Sherlock quickly shook him off. “Give me your gun.”
“I don’t have one.” They stared at each other for a moment, then Jim shrugged. “All right, I do. But I’m not giving it to you.” Suddenly there was a pistol in his hand and he held it up so that Sherlock could see it. “Happy now?”
“I swear to God, the minute I get my hands on her I am locking her up where no one can get to her,” Sherlock muttered under his breath.
“Your sister or Molly? If you mean Eurus, then I wish you the best of luck. If you mean Molly, might I suggest somewhere in the tropics? It would do her some good to get out in the sun for a bit, work on her tan. Don’t you think?”
Before Sherlock could thank Jim for the completely unasked for advice, they heard a high-pitched scream from behind the closed door.
“Not Molly,” Jim whispered.
“Nope. Surely she didn’t . . . again?” Sherlock whispered back.
They heard Eurus Holmes speak, clear as day. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Both men rushed toward the door, Sherlock hitting it with his shoulder hard enough to make it fly inward as Jim covered him with the pistol.
What they found was Molly seated in front of a large television screen and a camera tripod. A groaning man was on his hands and knees on the floor next to Molly. Eurus was sitting at a table on the screen, her chin propped up on one hand. If she was surprised to see Sherlock and Jim, she didn’t show it.
The groaning man lifted his head. “I said I wouldn’t do that, Carl. You already ignored her warning once and look where you ended up,” Eurus tutted. “Molly, dear, your saviours are here.”
“I noticed. Bit busy,” Molly snarled back.
Sherlock hurried to Molly’s side. He realized that someone had tied her to the chair at some point, but she had already managed to work her hands free and was nearly finished untying her legs. He knelt down beside her to try to help and she batted his hands away.
“I’ve got it.” She lifted her head to glare at the woman on the screen. “Next time you want to talk to me, you can call on me yourself.”
“Oh, no. No, she does not mean that, Eurus.” Sherlock spun on his knee to speak directly toward the camera on the tripod. “That was not an invitation.”
Molly finished freeing herself and stood. “Hell yes, I mean it. Do you know what she asked me? Why she dragged my arse into this dump?”
“Torte?” Jim asked.
“No, she-“ Molly noticed Jim for the first time. “Again?”
He shrugged. “I was in the neighbourhood.”
“What did she want, Molly?” Sherlock tried to draw them back to the important matter at hand.
“I wanted to know why she loves you. Is it in spite of the way you are, or because of it?” Everyone turned their attention back to Eurus. “Curiosity, really. Well, it’s been lovely chatting with you, Molly, but I do have other commitments this evening. I’ll be in touch.” Eurus reached for a remote on the desk and lifted it toward the camera off screen. “Oh, Molly?”
Sherlock felt his stomach drop.
Molly’s burst of bravado must have dissipated because she flinched. “Yes?”
“Welcome to the family.” Somehow Eurus managed to make those four little words sound menacing. The screen went blank.
Jim took a step closer to Molly and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek while she was still trying to decide if that had been a threat or not. “Good news, Molls. I think Sissy likes you!”
He sidestepped Sherlock’s arm and danced out of reach, quickly heading for the door. “Ta.”
Sherlock pulled Molly into his arms, glaring at the man on the floor who dared to roll over so that he was sitting on his bum.
“Sherlock?” Molly’s voice was soft and uncertain in his ear.
He pressed a kiss against her hair and held her tighter. “Yes?”
“Why does your sister think we’re getting married?”
Rating: PG
A/N - SAW 2018 Day Six – (Canon Compliant – The Final Problem) or (Non-Canon/Head Canon – Late Marriage/Grandchildren)
Because why not have one more sequel this week - here’s a sequel to “The Self-Rescuing Princess” crack!fic I wrote a bit ago. As you can guess, this too is crack!fic.
The Return of the Self-Rescuing Princess
Sherlock let himself into Molly’s home using the key she’d given him ages ago. Something about being tired of wondering if the ominous jiggling of the doorknob was someone breaking in to steal her mother’s pearls or just “an inconsiderate consulting detective who refused to acknowledge other people’s personal boundaries”.
He knew he should have probably been insulted, but he’d ended up with his own key so he let it go with only a grumble or two.
Mrs Hudson had gone off on a weekend holiday, leaving no one to stock up on the milk or biscuits at Baker Street. Molly always tended to have plenty of both, along with an uncanny ability to help him see things from a slightly different perspective when he had a particularly annoying puzzle to solve.
He headed straight for the kitchen, craving a ginger biscuit and a cup of tea, only to pull up short at the sight of Jim Moriarty leaning over the counter with a forkful of crumbly baked good halfway to his mouth.
Jim slowly set the fork down on the plate next to a half-finished piece of peach pie. He delicately dabbed at his lips with a serviette, then folded it and placed it next to the plate.
“I’d offer you a slice, but this was the last one. Sorry.” Jim didn’t look sorry. If anything, he looked rather pleased with himself.
Sherlock took a deep breath through gritted teeth. “Molly?”
Jim picked up his cup of tea and smirked over the rim before taking a sip. “Guess.”
“My sister again?” Mycroft’s men hadn’t been able to track Eurus down yet, but Molly had absolutely refused to agree to protective custody while they looked.
“Got it in one.” Jim stood and dumped the last of his pie into the trash pin, then set the used plate in the sink.
Watching the other man make himself at home in Molly’s kitchen was really beginning to get on Sherlock’s nerves. “Moran?”
“Not this time.” Jim leaned against the counter and finished his tea. “Seb learned his lesson on that front. No, this time she managed without dipping into my payroll.”
“If you aren’t missing one of your black sheep, then why are you here?” Sherlock itched to yank the cup out of Jim’s hands and push the other man out the front door. He wondered just how many times Jim had come into Molly’s house while she was gone. He chose to ignore that he’d done the exact same thing less than ten minutes ago.
“Hello? Look at this kitchen.” Jim threw his hands out wide. “You know the magic she creates in here.”
“You came to rescue Molly, again, because of cake.”
Jim sneered, somehow managing to look both insulted and condescending at the same time. “I can’t be bought with a simple cake. I’m not your brother.”
Sherlock considered it for a moment. “Point. So where has Eurus taken her this time?”
They tracked Molly to the basement of a tenement that was scheduled for demolition.
Jim paused at the bottom of the stairs and grimaced when he stepped into a dark puddle under a dripping pipe.
“Just pretend it’s the blood of your enemies and keep moving,” Sherlock hissed, although he did make sure to carefully step around the puddle himself.
“Wouldn’t work. You keep talking. It ruins the illusion.”
They crept past a few open doorways, large storage rooms filled with piles of junk and broken shelves. Jim pointed toward a door with a small patch of light visible beneath it.
Sherlock held out his hand expectantly. Jim looked at it, shrugged, and put his own in it. Sherlock quickly shook him off. “Give me your gun.”
“I don’t have one.” They stared at each other for a moment, then Jim shrugged. “All right, I do. But I’m not giving it to you.” Suddenly there was a pistol in his hand and he held it up so that Sherlock could see it. “Happy now?”
“I swear to God, the minute I get my hands on her I am locking her up where no one can get to her,” Sherlock muttered under his breath.
“Your sister or Molly? If you mean Eurus, then I wish you the best of luck. If you mean Molly, might I suggest somewhere in the tropics? It would do her some good to get out in the sun for a bit, work on her tan. Don’t you think?”
Before Sherlock could thank Jim for the completely unasked for advice, they heard a high-pitched scream from behind the closed door.
“Not Molly,” Jim whispered.
“Nope. Surely she didn’t . . . again?” Sherlock whispered back.
They heard Eurus Holmes speak, clear as day. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Both men rushed toward the door, Sherlock hitting it with his shoulder hard enough to make it fly inward as Jim covered him with the pistol.
What they found was Molly seated in front of a large television screen and a camera tripod. A groaning man was on his hands and knees on the floor next to Molly. Eurus was sitting at a table on the screen, her chin propped up on one hand. If she was surprised to see Sherlock and Jim, she didn’t show it.
The groaning man lifted his head. “I said I wouldn’t do that, Carl. You already ignored her warning once and look where you ended up,” Eurus tutted. “Molly, dear, your saviours are here.”
“I noticed. Bit busy,” Molly snarled back.
Sherlock hurried to Molly’s side. He realized that someone had tied her to the chair at some point, but she had already managed to work her hands free and was nearly finished untying her legs. He knelt down beside her to try to help and she batted his hands away.
“I’ve got it.” She lifted her head to glare at the woman on the screen. “Next time you want to talk to me, you can call on me yourself.”
“Oh, no. No, she does not mean that, Eurus.” Sherlock spun on his knee to speak directly toward the camera on the tripod. “That was not an invitation.”
Molly finished freeing herself and stood. “Hell yes, I mean it. Do you know what she asked me? Why she dragged my arse into this dump?”
“Torte?” Jim asked.
“No, she-“ Molly noticed Jim for the first time. “Again?”
He shrugged. “I was in the neighbourhood.”
“What did she want, Molly?” Sherlock tried to draw them back to the important matter at hand.
“I wanted to know why she loves you. Is it in spite of the way you are, or because of it?” Everyone turned their attention back to Eurus. “Curiosity, really. Well, it’s been lovely chatting with you, Molly, but I do have other commitments this evening. I’ll be in touch.” Eurus reached for a remote on the desk and lifted it toward the camera off screen. “Oh, Molly?”
Sherlock felt his stomach drop.
Molly’s burst of bravado must have dissipated because she flinched. “Yes?”
“Welcome to the family.” Somehow Eurus managed to make those four little words sound menacing. The screen went blank.
Jim took a step closer to Molly and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek while she was still trying to decide if that had been a threat or not. “Good news, Molls. I think Sissy likes you!”
He sidestepped Sherlock’s arm and danced out of reach, quickly heading for the door. “Ta.”
Sherlock pulled Molly into his arms, glaring at the man on the floor who dared to roll over so that he was sitting on his bum.
“Sherlock?” Molly’s voice was soft and uncertain in his ear.
He pressed a kiss against her hair and held her tighter. “Yes?”
“Why does your sister think we’re getting married?”