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Every Good Fairy Tale Needs a Good Old-Fashioned Villain

~o0oo0oo0o~

A tentative voice called softly, "Molls? Are you awake?"

Thoughts, tangled in a weave of spider's web, unfathomable. Confused, she murmured, "Jim?"

Pushing the door open with his foot, Jim appeared, a wide smile stretching his mouth. "I brought you some soup."

"Oh, thanks," she offered listlessly.

Jim watched her, hovering with the tray and looking hopeful.

The smell of the soup permeated the room, coiling, drawing nausea from her and making her dizzy with revulsion.

Groggily, she pushed herself to a sitting position.

Jim helped, hands under her arms easing her gently up, before fussily propping an extra pillow behind her back and perching next to her with the tray.

"It's been so long since I've seen you Molls," ducking his head and adding shyly, "I missed you."

Reaching out, she rested her hand on his arm, smiling kindly. A jolt of pure heat leapt between them and their eyes caught, widening in shock.

Clarity. The fog of confusion sliced neatly away by the blade of the intensity of the moment. Sexual attraction - for someone other than the sorcerer.

Wracking her brain, she tried to isolate any time she may have had skin to skin contact with Jim in the past. She couldn't think of a single one.

Disturbed by the notion, she resolved to put it aside - easily consoling herself that it was almost certainly a left-over from him. Relaxing, she smiled welcomingly at sweet Jim.

Soft dark eyes were raised tentatively to hers, "Would you eat please Molls? You had a funny turn, I- I'm worried." The words stuck in his throat, he seemed to have trouble simply looking at her, his face drawn.

Watching him curiously, Molly wondered at the depth of his feelings for her, and the fact that she'd been oblivious to his admiration, for how long?

A few choked down mouthfuls of soup and she began regaining her faculties again, "Does my mother know I'm here?"

Lighting up, "I went and told her myself well, she em, she wanted us to look after you for a bit, so she could sleep a little."

A chasm opened in Molly's stomach, the shock of an endless plummet took her breath away before remembrance came flooding back, gushing to fill the emptiness with a torrent, roiling and threatening to burst from within her ribcage. She pressed her fingers to her solar plexus as if to stem the flow, as her mother's illness, running to Sherlock - and what had happened then - filled her thoughts, washing the here and now away.

Cheeks flaming, she pondered the…things she had done with him. After which, worst of all, he no longer wanted her. No, she lamented, by far the most shameful thing was that she still ached for him, would run to him even now if he but deigned to so much as whistle or clap for her.

"Are you thinking about that sorcerer?"

Jim's voice broke into her thoughts, husky and low. Avoiding her gaze, he plucked at her blanket. Distress clear in the taut lines of his back, the tension in his neck and the quaver in his voice.

Shame folded itself through the soup in her stomach, souring her meal. When had she become so wanton?

Casting the thought and the remaining soup aside, she extended her hand toward him before drawing it back and balling her fist at the last moment, wary of that connection flaring again.

"I need to see my mother Jim."

At this request his eyes finally met hers. His throat working as he swallowed, wordless pity in his tilted head and flattened lips, "Molly - "

"Will you take me Jim? Please." Feeling weak but determined.

"I - yes, I'd do anything for you Molls," he smiled but looked vaguely ashamed at his confession.

~o0oo0oo0o~

The walk was a short one, and the normally busy animal and bird chatter at dusk was oddly absent, rendering the forest eerily silent, though Molly didn't notice. Jim kept a steady level of chit chat up along the way and she was pleasantly diverted.

"Mum?" Molly called as she walked in, scuffing her boots on the leather scrap nailed to the floor for such use.

No answer.

Frowning, she ushered Jim in, shutting the door firmly behind them. Panic rising, she made her way to her mother's room. Pushing the door softly, breath held in anticipation as it swung open with a creak.

The room was darkened, dreary, the only source of light a swatch of sunshine stealing in through the badly drawn drapes. It slanted over the bed, across her pillow and up the wall, serving well to showcase the slew of dust motes leisurely dancing about in mid-air that would not have normally have dared to show themselves in the Hooper household.

Jessika Hooper lay on the bed, sleeping. Her breath whistled and wheezed in and out slowly with obvious effort, chest heaving wretchedly on each laborious intake and exhale. Her face had been whittled down and her body wizened in such a short time, leaving behind a mere shadow of her former exuberant presence.

Tears pricked Molly's eyes before languorously rolling down her face, blurring her vision. "Mum?" Urgency pitching her voice higher, piercing the silence.

As though reining her consciousness in from far away, she came to slowly. Head lolling on the pillow toward her daughter's voice, while her eyes rolled up in their sockets, seeming to prefer to avoid that bright yellow slash of light.

Stepping to the blinds, Molly tugged them, neatly obscuring the wedge that was causing so much distress to her poor mother.

Murmuring quietly, she smoothed hair back off of her clammy forehead, "Sshh, you need to rest. I'll look after you."

Standing up, she moved to tug the corners of her blankets down to check her stomach when she recalled that Jim was there. Turning, she was surprised to find that he had gone. Gently, she peeled the covers down, horrified when the tumour was exposed. It all but pulsed with life, drawing its vitality straight out of her weakened body.

An M, as clear as can be and perfectly matching that of her father's.

A respectful clearing of his throat in the hallway heralded Jim's imminent return.

Choking back a sob, she quickly covered her again, mindful of her dignity even in these dark and seemingly hopeless times. Dropping heavily to her knees, Molly draped herself over her supine form. Tears flowed freely, her mother was all that she had left in the world; to lose her was unfathomable.

Jim's lilt danced in her ears, his breath warm on her neck, ruffling her hair. Rubbing circles on her back, he entreated her, "Molly, give her this."

Any remaining light in the room seemed to be drawn toward the miniature bottle he held out. Sparkling off of and even through, rainbows fanning out across surfaces, the liquid inside was sapphire blue and gleaming with…life?"

"Jim? Wh-What is that? Where did you get it?" She recognised a spell when she saw one, spending time as a sorcerer's apprentice had familiarised her well enough.

Catching her hands in his own, he tugged her up, "First administer the draft and then we can talk, okay?"

Lost in his dark eyes, she found herself nodding even before she had decided what to do. His hands cradling her own sent tendrils of pleasure spiralling up her inner arms, coiling under her ribs and bidding her to move toward him.

Apprehension, confusion, even as she agreed. The feeling of being drawn to him was wrong, for how could she be thinking of another when just hours ago she had nearly - she had wanted - she still did want him. Never would she learn how to not love Sherlock, he was her dreams, her mind -

As Jim's hands slipped away, releasing her own, she pulled her thoughts back to here, to her mother.

She lifted her head, huffed a breath out of her nose and closed her eyes briefly in acquiescence, acknowledging the need to focus.

He nodded at her, moving back to allow the two women privacy.

Turning back to her mother, again she resolutely put the sensations he caused out of her mind. With extreme care, she ran the viscous liquid drop by precious drop into her mother's slightly open mouth and waited, barely remembering to breathe.

Colour bloomed instantly on the apples of her cheeks, peaches, pinks and golds accentuated her beauty and chased away the grey shadows that formerly had marred it.

Molly turned to Jim, cheeks dewy as tears slipped over them, "How did you..? Will she be..?"

With soft eyes, he smiled, tugging her hand, "Come on Molls, let her sleep, a proper sleep. We'll talk and then you can come back, you'll want to check a few things with her."

Allowing herself to be led, she stole one last glance back at her mother, heart bursting with gratitude for the miracle Jim had just bestowed upon them.

~o0oo0oo0o~

They settled themselves at the kitchen table with tea and scones, Molly smiling at Jim every time he looked her way and he blushed and ducked his head in turn.

Lacing her fingers together and leaning back, she waited for him to begin.

Beseechingly, he pleaded, "Please don't be angry with me Molly I - " his voice hitched and he fell silent.

Taken aback, she exclaimed, "Angry? Why should I be angry? After what you just did?" Eyes shining with gratitude but wide with disbelief.

Lowering his head, his voice low, he warned, "There's more."

Nodding, Molly asked him, "Okay, can you tell me?"

Fiddling with his tea cup, finger looped into its handle, he twisted it around and around, admitting, "Yes, but I'm not sure I want to. I don't want to lose your...friendship Molls." His desire for more clear in his hesitation.

Watching him, trepidation telegraphed by his every movement, she wished to reassure him. Catching his eyes, she held them, "Jim, we've been friends for years, whatever kind of trouble you're mixed up in, I know it's not you."

Picking up her cup, she took a sip, trying to convey how relaxed and understanding she felt about his imminent confession and certain innocence.

Biting his lip and smoothing his palms across the table, flattening wrinkles in the cloth that simply weren't there, he took a deep, fortifying breath and began.

"I'm the other sorcerer."

Cup clattering back into her saucer, she vehemently denied his claim, "No you're not, you're - "

A dazzling swirl of light shimmered around them, the very dust motes hanging in the air bejewelled and sparkling beautifully. When at last the flash dissipated, Jim was revealed, though not as the same man that Molly had known all this time.

Slicked back hair, his clothes a cut and style of fabric usually reserved for kings or the like. A magnificent cloak dancing and whirling with life.

Molly was struck by the fact that it was not quite like his cape. Where his was made up of technicolour galaxies and whirling star debris. Jim's cloak was panoramic, a magpie dominated the scene, flapping its wings proudly, ferns furled and unfurled by turns, whilst leaves and feathers drifted along in intricate patterns on slip streams.

Sitting as stone, terror and confusion wrapped Molly in their sticky clutches, rendering her mute.

Jim watched silently, waiting for her. When she gave a slight nod for him to continue, he did so.

"I was going to come here tonight, without you, to give your mum the cure. I - I'm sorry it's taken me so long, it's very difficult to counteract another's spell." Catching her eye, his smile shy, "Some say impossible, it's not though, not when there's," he cleared his throat, looking away, "Love."

Rushing on, his words a simple stream of consciousness, or so it seemed to Molly.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save your dad, I hadn't yet figured out a way to combat the spell with one of my own. I didn't know you had gone to him Molls, I swear. He didn't…hurt you did he?"

Pale, trembling, her eyes flicked to his, shame painting her cheeks, "No," she croaked out, "He didn't, I - " closing her eyes for a moment, she took a breath. When she opened them again they were glazed with tears that she refused to let spill as she admitted, "I wanted - I let him." Left unsaid but acknowledged by both was the fact that she still wanted him.

Blowing out a breath, Jim reached over, taking her hand, that heat warming her belly like coals.

"Molls, none of this is your fault, he gave her the potion, he tricked you." Such sincerity in his tone, such belief in her.

"But he said the spell was cast by a Moriarty? The M symbol Jim," fragile hope blooming in her chest.

The look of pity on Jim's face made it all too clear. Biting his lip, he finally spoke, "It's not an M, Molly, it's a W."

The last shred of hope she had clung to tore away. Bereft, horrified, Molly shrunk back, desperately whispering, "But who's Moriarty?"

Squeezing her hand, "There is no Moriarty, Molly. He used that name to make you overlook the fact that the symbol is a W."

Yanking her hand away, she brought them both to her mouth, nausea pooling in her stomach, "William," she rasped out. "His given name is William, I overheard John teasing him."

Gasping, horror tightened her chest, frantic, she clawed at her throat, her breath shallow. Guilt overwhelmed, ratcheting tighter and tighter, sealing her up with no oxygen. Madness must surely follow such a loss of reality.

Warm hands grasped her upper arms, guiding her across to sit in his lap, grounding her on the physical plane. Jim's sweet lilting voice warm in her ear, the panic receding as his words became clearer.

"You cannot be responsible for fighting evil, my darling, just let me look after you, I'll keep you safe. Haven't we always had fun Molls? I would never try to take your maidenly virtue from you, I'm not - him."

Ceaselessly his hands moved, brushing her hair and arranging his cloak around them both.

Just like with Sherlock, Molly took no notice of the effect she had on his cloak. Rather than the cinnamons, ambers and chestnuts that flowed and mingled through Sherlock's cape when she touched him, she and Jim together created an unholy union.

Lightning blazed in a sheet illuminating a flash of the magpie's skull, its flesh corrupted, rotting right off of its bones. The feathers and leaves were decaying, mouldering and sinking into blackened swamps.

Had she but turned her head she would have seen Jim, eyes dead, staring out into nothing, mouth stretched into an obscene smile that in no way resembled her friend.

After a time her breathing slowed, a mantle of peace descended, or maybe one of numbness.

Clouds rolled in, suddenly dominating the formerly blue, placid sky, fat drops of rain made their way leisurely down, apparently ignorant to gravity and its claim. The slow and steady drip a susurrus which furthered calmed Molly's nerves and gave her courage.

"Tell me about this then?" She asked bravely as she slipped down off of his knee. Brittle but ready, she waited to hear the story, to hear that which would either condemn Sherlock or her friend Jim.

Jim's eyes were soft and brimming with hope, he smiled at Molly but it was a trembling, fledgling thing and his mouth couldn't hold it. The corners of his lips soon turned down as he regarded her. Taking a breath he began.

"There is a delicate balance holding this world of ours together. A long time ago events that could upset that balance were set into motion by a woman. An angelic, beautifully pure, mortal woman, very much like yourself."

When Molly blushed, Jim gave her a wan smile, "I do not say that to flatter you my darling," adding with a self-deprecating huff, "However much I may wish to do just that."

Molly smiled uncertainly, this new Jim would take some getting used to, he was eloquent, ardent and more than a little handsome.

"No, when I say she was very much like you, I mean she looked and behaved exactly as you do."

Waving his hands in an arc, he mumbled some indistinguishable words under his breath in the language of ago, the same language she'd heard Sherlock using to great effect upon occasion. A flash of yellow, as bright as the buttercups that dotted the meadows, and a sphere opened, creating a window to another time.

Gasping, Molly's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide as she took in a mirror image of herself running through the forest. She was watching herself, surely. She started when she realised that the girl - the other Molly - was being pursued by a man.

Blonde, tall as a tree and built like one, his green eyes incandescent with vitality. Molly thought that he even might have been the equal of Sherlock's beauty. Though a whisper in the back of her mind assured her that to all other women, nay men too - who were not soul bonded to Sherlock - would agree that this light filled, virile man was god-like and glorious in his physicality and no one else quite his compare.

As he caught her likenesses wrist, Molly's heart thumped in her throat, fear spreading out from her belly, for beauty, attraction, never implies consent.

Her doppelgänger turned and laughed, joy in her every movement, "Now you've caught me, what will you do to me my lord?" She asked coyly.

With a wolfish smile, he answered, simple, clear and to the point. Lifting her, he pressed her against the nearest tree, threading her legs around his waist, his hands rucking up her skirt so his fingertips could trail over her smooth thighs. Holding eye contact, he leaned in achingly slowly, drawing her towards him before pressing his lips to hers. Deepening the kiss - he appeared to be attempting to devour her - causing the girl to moan.

Eyes wide, a flush spreading across her cheeks and chest, Molly looked away.

Needing to show no more, Jim waved his hand in an elegant arc, this time culminating in a closed fist, sealing the key hole and with it their view.

Cheeks blazing, she wondered if she had looked so utterly taken when she had been with Sherlock. Gathering her courage, she stammered out nervously, "Wh-Who was that Jim?"

Balling her fists she waited for the answer, rather terrified that he would tell her that it was herself, a future self. After all she had done with Sherlock, she had to wonder if she wasn't on the road to becoming just that type of girl.

Quietly, looking extremely uncomfortable, "That was the beginning of all I must tell you. She was your ancestor and she made a choice."

He puffed out a breath and looked out the window as if the answers might be found dancing across the tree tops. After a moment, in a barely audible voice he added, "The wrong choice."

Fear spiked her heart beat and set her hands fluttering in her lap, purposeless, "What does this have to do with me?"

An apology in his manner, Jim said in a hushed tone, "Let me tell you the tale in the right order, I promise you'll understand when I'm done, probably more than you would wish to."

Frozen, Molly stared at him, trying to parse his meaning. Nothing was given away by his expression, other than apprehension, he seemed oddly… blank.

With great trepidation, Molly finally whispered, "Okay, I'll listen."

"That man that your predecessor was so enamoured with was actually a God. Camalus, a God of war. He took human form upon occasion to come and be amongst the mortals, it was somewhat of a hobby for him. For thousands of years he had done so and never encountered a problem. Until he met Pearl - "

"Pearl?" Molly started, "My name means pearl..." She trailed off looking thoughtful.

"Yes, you were named Margaret for a reason Molly, as I said, you'll want to check things with your mother."

Again he looked at her with that curious mix of pity and fear.

Though her head was spinning with a flurry of questions, she kept her word. Assuming her silence in order to let him tell it in the order he deemed necessary.

Jim kept up his vigil over the trees that could be seen swaying in the breeze, unable or unwilling to hold her gaze.

"Things became physical with Pearl, they were ah," here he himself blushed, clearing his throat and looking more like Jim again, despite the finery he was draped in. Taking a breath he pressed on, "Intimate. Camalus was not free. His wife spied on them, not only did he use her body - which maybe she could have forgiven him for - no, she heard him making a declaration, he spoke of love. A word he had never given freely to his wife. He loved her, a mortal. Enraged, she moved to strike this girl down."

Sitting forward, utterly rapt in the narrative he was weaving around her, she waited with bated breath for him to continue."

"Her husband heard her muttering and spirited Pearl away. They were brought before the council and it was then discovered that the mortal girl was pregnant."

Closing his eyes, he sighed, looking as though he was in pain.

Drawing breath, Molly opened her mouth, before her lips could so much as form a shape, he spoke again.

"Pregnant with the child of a God." The words were heavy and lacked finesse, they fell noisily between them with a thud.

Eyes wide, Molly stared at him, finally croaking out, "My ancestor?"

Moving his hand to cover hers, he brushed his thumb back and forth. His features strained, his worry and concern plain for her to see.

Although the motion was soothing it was also uncomfortable, that heat pulsing through her again was…distracting. Pulling away, she folded her hands primly in her lap, then taking a gulping breath, she nodded her intention for him to continue.

Inclining his head to her, he continued his fraught tale. "His wife called to cull the land of mortals, to start fresh, be done with their heathen ways. Camalus petitioned for mercy, he claimed the fault of the deed for himself, she, the mortal girl had not come to find him, she had not ever known of his marriage and most importantly, how could she resist a God?"

Molly was nodding along thoughtfully.

Taking that as his cue to keep going, he kept filling in the details of this wild and tragic tale. "There was a great debate amongst the Gods, with some taking her side and some taking his. A few were rather raucous in their praise for his cunning in taking a sweet mortal girl, plucking her when ripe and juicy, like a peach from a tree."

There was an apology in his eyes as he described this to Molly, a nod to the crass nature of some of the story.

Thanking him with a thin smile for his wish to shelter her thusly, she encouraged him, "Go on Jim."

"So after many days had turned into weeks and those in turn had had become months, the baby was born and still the solution remained unfound. When the baby was brought to the council, all present agreed that although the child was not a demigod as Camalus had assumed human form at the time, it was nonetheless, one of their own. It was decided that the babe and her mother would be allowed to live but that her child's children would bear the burden of the mother's sin."

Pausing, Jim looked at Molly, she motioned for him to go on but she was pale, shaking wildly and barely held together.

"Every twenty-fifth daughter would be put to the test. A choice, made - always without her knowledge - between a light or a dark sorcerer. Her decision would be the path of clemency or destruction for all life in this world. You mark the tenth time that a daughter of Pearl has been called upon to reach this decision."

Here his voice became sad, wistful even, "The God's tire Molly, no one is afraid of them the way they used to be, mortals no longer tremble when their names are spoken, they believe they are not being given their due. So this time is different, they have given you a connection with the dark sorcerer that you do not have with me, they have given him an advantage." Holding his hands out, palms up, as if to show that he was playing with an empty deck, he smiled wanly.

Feeling utterly adrift, Molly found herself scrambling for a safe harbour, a place to think without either sorcerer influencing. "I need to think, Jim. I need to talk to my mother."

Obliging as ever, he agreed immediately, "Of course, Molls, I'll wait here - "

Out of patience, she snapped, "No Jim, I need some space, I'll come and find you okay? I need time to process, a lot has happened."

Taking in his crestfallen face, she added, "Thank you, truly, for what you did for my mother, I will not forget Jim."

Hesitating for a moment, she took his hand in her own, steadfastly ignoring the pulse that throbbed between them. "You're my friend and I don't want you to feel badly but this has been a lot for me to take in, so I'm sure you understand, I need you to leave."

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he looked worried and unhappy but nodded his acquiescence. "You will come and find me Molly? I need to protect you and - "

Holding up her hands, growing wary now, her jaw set, "I can take care of myself Jim, I've done okay so far, I'm not so helpless as you seem to want to believe."

Contrite, he swallowed thickly and nodded, "Sorry Molls, of course, I just - I'll go." Pushing his chair out from the table, he got up and walked towards the door, his cape and finery already dissolving back to plainer clothing as he moved.

Unable to see his expression, she could see the set of his shoulders and the way he seemed to droop. Softening a little, regretting her brash anger - none of this was his fault after all - she murmured, "Thank you Jim, I'll see you soon, I will."

He turned and gave her such a heart broken smile that she nearly relented, he must've seen it in her face because he looked triumphantly hopeful for a moment, taking half a step, real joy shining in his eyes.

Hardening her features, she shut him down, she needed this.

The door clicked shut quietly behind him and overwhelming relief had her sagging. Her body wanted sleep but her heart and her mind desperately wished to see her mother up and about or, at the least, fed.

A quick perusal of the pantry yielded nothing beyond the slightly stale scones she had laid out for Jim and of course, tea. Clearly the scones had been brought over by their closest neighbour, Doris. She was always happy to help, they'd often enough done the same for her in times of ill luck or health.

Walking along the adjoining path, utterly absorbed by thoughts of Jim and Sherlock, dark and light and what possible information her mother could be privy to.

So deep was she in her mind that she started when a bullfinch landed on her shoulder, his beautiful bright red plumage puffed proudly as he twittered in her ear.

Grinning, happy to see her new friend, Molly whispered conspiratorially, "You got a secret for me, do you? Where's your lady? We'll get her some fruit and you can be Mr Popular." Winking at him, she was surprised when another bird took her opposite shoulder. Turning her head slightly, she discovered it was a sweet little Blue Tit.

The Blue Tit chattered away happily and then began dragging its beak through her hair, grooming. Not to be out done, the bullfinch took up the monumental task on its own side.

After obtaining the bread from her neighbour and a bone for broth, during which Doris was barely able to draw breath for speech, she was laughing so hard.

And truthfully, who wouldn't, when faced with Molly's pint sized companions, so tenacious and willing in their self-appointed task to clean Molly's mane of hair.

She herself had felt amused by the birds but not altogether surprised. Between the blackbird who had lately given her a coin, to the talking cat, Toby and the memorable cow and bull in the field on that day.. Well, she was getting used to animals being around and behaving in heretofore unknown ways, besides only a part of this was new, animals had always come to her, since she was a small child.

In fact her parents used to fear for her safety when as a baby, neighbourhood animals would bring her 'offerings' from the forest and lay them at her feet in her cot while she slept.

~o0oo0oo0o~

Sitting across from her well-fed mother, basking in the change that had swept over her. It was the difference between night and day, summer and winter, Sherlock and Jim. Eating, smiling, chatting, it was nothing short of miraculous.

Over her tea cup, Molly regarded her mother, easily judging by the latter's expression that she already had more than a fair idea of what she wished to discuss.

With a sombre expression, Jessika spoke. "When I was a little girl, my mother sat me down and told me a story, a tale about our ancestor, Pearl. She explained that when I grew up I would have a little girl and that I must call her - you - Margaret and that you would be the twenty fifth daughter in line and would be tasked with a burden."

"A choice," Molly interjected, her gaze fierce. She wasn't angry with her mother but she did feel as though she was owed the truth, this was happening to her and she'd had no warning.

Nodding miserably, her voice broke, "Yes, a choice."

With a deep sigh she told Molly what she knew. "The fate of our world would hang upon your shoulders. You would choose between the cure and the kill. I didn't believe her, in these modern times? How could it be true? It sounded like an ancient bed time story told to children whose parents did not wish to relinquish control when their child was of an age to pick who they might marry, a mere tale."

Unable to hide her emotions completely, "And yet you chose to call me Margaret?" She challenged, her bottom lip wobbling no matter how she pressed them together.

"I didn't wish to make trouble, I loved my mother." Tilting her head, imploring, "I called you Molly, really."

"No, you didn't, my name is Margaret, Mum, Molly has always been a nickname. Were I to marry what name would be listed on the ledger? Molly Hooper? Or Margaret Hooper?"

In a desperate whisper, "I didn't believe it was real," reaching out a hand to take Molly's own.

Snatching her hand back, Molly hissed at her, "And when I told you about my dreams?"

"I thought it was a passing fancy, a mage with a crush, a coincidence... And then when I met him, he was so nice. I tried - " pausing, her brow furrowed. "Molly, I was going to speak to you about it, but then I found I could only agree to you going to him. After that I started feeling ill and I - "

Molly buried her face in her hands, sobbing, "Oh Mum. I'm so confused, I love him but I think he's dark and I just - he sent me away. And I don't believe that he hurt you, he wouldn't. But Jim is a sorcerer too and he claims he's the light one and he fixed you, so he must be good but all I can think of is him. And he must be trying to be good? Otherwise, why send me away?"

Sucking in a deep, shuddering breath, she finally slowed and looked at her mother, her eyes filled with hope that her Mum could fix this as easily as she had once fixed scraped knees.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry this has all fallen on you, I wish it to the Gods it wasn't yours to bear, you've always been my special girl." Tears glistened in her mother's eyes, her face a mask of pain. Though this time the pain was not physical in nature, it cut just as deep.

"She - Pearl - looked like me, Mum, Jim showed me, am I her?"

Jessika's eyes swept up to hers, holding her gaze, she told her, "No honey, you listen to me, you are not her, you're you, you're my Molly and I believe in you. You will make the right decision, you just have to trust yourself, you will know what is right."

Miserable, she squared her shoulders resolutely and nodded, "My body must belong to Jim but my heart, my soul, will always remain his, they've been his since the very first dream anyway. That'll have to do, I can do no less for the world we inhabit and I can do no more for my own heart."

Allowing her mother to fold her into her arms, they sat together while Molly wept and wailed. Jessika shushed her and rubbed her back, just like she had done when her daughter was a small child.

~o0oo0oo0o~

For Molly the summer seemed to fly past, in spite of her near constant thoughts of Sherlock she slowly began to see how she could make a life with Jim.

They had been courting and she couldn't deny that there was an attraction there, certainly her pulse jumped when he touched her; certainly she was at least curious if his kiss would affect her. Jim had been very patient, had in fact been the perfect gentleman but there was a foreboding sense of time running out.

Making up her mind to allow him to kiss her was by no means easy, her heart rebelled at the thought and she had, on more than one occasion, considered going to Sherlock and simply seducing him, the world be damned; but alas, that simply wasn't her nature.

"Would you like to walk me home Jim?" She asked with a smile full of promises.

He regarded her without moving for a long moment and then, eyes widening, he'd scrambled to his feet and grabbed at his coat. In his nervous foolishness he'd managed to knock over a basket of red apples, once loose they'd spread out like a blood stain across the table.

Laughing, Mrs Galster had waved them off, "Go on then, my boy, you go have some time with your sweetheart."

Manic laughter had bubbled up from his chest, nervous, happy and perfectly out of place.

The forest was quiet, as though the animals themselves were waiting, holding their collective breath until they had the news.

Bumping his shoulder against her own, Jim asked, "Where are you off to in your head, Miss Molly?"

Turning to him and smiling, she assured him, "Nowhere Jim, I'm right here. Promise."

Threading his hand into hers, his voice husky, "Molly?"

He looked so sincere, so sweet, nothing at all like him. He wasn't commanding, he didn't dominate the room, didn't for that matter, dominate her heart, but she must try.

Closing her eyes and tilting her head invitingly up, she wilfully ignored the outrage in her heart, in her soul. She had a duty, she would not shirk it.

Breath, warm, smelling faintly of the apples he so favoured, fanned out across her face as he moved in toward her. When at last his soft lips touched her own, she was surprised to feel a bolt of lust, going to ground through her suddenly aching sex.

When he took her lips again soft rain pattered down over them and though the kiss may well have grown from that point, there was no chance to find out.

The appearance of a beautiful dark haired woman purring, "Hello lovers," marked a surprising and unexpected interruption.

Molly's eyes flicked open, turning, her gaze landed on a beautiful woman who was observing the two of them with open interest, amusement, and...arousal?

"Oh don't stop on my account, things were just getting fun." She pouted playfully.

A hot spike of jealousy at the intimate way this woman regarded Jim, surprised Molly.

"Actually, I believe I will interrupt, Molly here has need of a female confidant, someone to teach her the ways of the world."

Frowning in disbelief, she disagreed, "I do not, besides, I don't even know you," she finished hotly.

Hooking her arm through Molly's, she leaned in, close enough for her breath to feel damp against Molly's ear. "Ah, but you'll want to… I can help you stop thinking about him and start thinking about Jim."

Molly whipped her head around to look at the woman whispering in her ear, so quickly that they very nearly collided, neither one flinched as they eyed each other.

A pair of cautious, speculative, eyes searched and catalogued a knowing face and a blood red smile that promised the sharing of a certain type of secrets.

When Irene held her crooked arm out to Molly to take, the latter did so without hesitation, leaving Jim looking on with the air of one who has been abandoned for a better offer.

"Don't you worry Jim, I'm only borrowing her, she won't come back damaged," smiling, she added, "Well, not much," she winked.

"Just us girls having a little a heart to heart," she trilled out over her shoulder, leading Molly away.

~0o00o00o0~

Cursing, Sherlock dashed the potion to the ground. Useless, all of it.

Nothing had come out right and though he had a talent for self-deception, he damn well knew why.

Though he refused to even think her name and had forbidden Toby to utter it, his awareness of her remained complete. She had stolen in, like a thief in the night and wallpapered each and every room of his mind place with images of herself. He was surrounded by her and yet utterly bereft of her presence, her joy, her laughter, her love, all the interminably long, hot summer.

She missed him. She was angry, afraid, confused, but she still wanted him, still yearned for him. Her emotions were like a beacon. He could no more turn away from them than a moth could keep from circling the flame of a lantern or a mouse could resist that forbidden morsel, nestled snugly inside a sprung trap. He understood ships dashing themselves on rocks as sailors, captains and pirates alike fell prey to the mermaids and their siren songs.

His only salvation had been the fact that he'd managed to find a way to stop the dreams, or she had, whatever had happened, they'd stopped, and he'd not given it much thought beyond that. He hadn't given anything much conscious thought these days beyond Moriarty.

He was engulfed by evidence of Moriarty's presence, his work and yet, he simply couldn't be found. He was a ghost, an invisible man, there had been no sightings of any sorcerer all summer long and yet all the animals could talk of were the futures that had been traded. All sorts of accidents had befallen the good folk of the forest this year but each incident seemed only to send him on a merry chase, they each appeared to originate from a different place.

And so his thoughts belonged to Moriarty.

But his heart belonged to her.

A tinkling sound began to form in the air around him, gaining volume as a shimmering, iridescent dust began to form a cloud in front of him and an extremely disinterested Toby.

All of this of course, heralded The White Witch Hudson, he recognised the signs easily, though it had been an age since his childhood, he still recalled it perfectly.

Rolling his eyes, he widened his stance, ready and willing to tell her to mind her own business. It didn't matter that Molly was engaged to some short arse who likely couldn't distinguish his arse from his elbow, because he, Sherlock Holmes, didn't care.

And even if he did, it was far too late.

As the dust began to coalesce into the witch, the first parts to materialise were her disappointed face and her index finger, pointing at him.

Sherlock drew breath to speak but a moment too late.

The process sped up once the face was complete and Witch Hudson admonished, "You know I'm getting too old for this my boy, I'm your white witch dear, not your fairy godmother."

Running his hands through his hair, light refracting off of the array of jewels that he had furnished his fingers with, he groaned. "Why are you here then? Because if it's about the little mortal girl I won't speak of her, she's engaged to some local idiot, so she's safe.

Cocking her head to the side, sighing, "I can see why they picked you, it's cruel, that poor girl, I mean, Sherlock... The mess you've made."

"I can assure you, Witch," he informed her in an icy tone. "That I am by no means thick, and am most assuredly well up to the task of defeating the dark one."

Pity now in her gaze, "Sherlock, you need her."

Drawing himself up to his full height, he barked, "Mrs Hudson, I can assure you that I need nothing and no one."

From across the room Toby hissed indignantly and Sherlock seemed to deflate a little, "I just want her to be safe, she won't be safe with me, do you see?" He pleaded.

With a careworn sigh, the witch sat down, gesturing for him to join.

He did so, albeit reluctantly.

"I'm not allowed to show you this but I can't - " her voice cracked, "I cannot stand by and watch this happening."

Taking a silk pouch from the folds of her dress, she tugged on the draw string and tipped the gloriously intricate golden spirals it contained into her hand. Then flinging them up in an arc, she allowed them to dissolve and create a window, much the same as Moriarty had, only this time, the window only went so far back into the past as late spring.

Sherlock sat stony faced as he saw Jim gift the potion to Molly. When he revealed himself as the other sorcerer, Sherlock paled. When he sat her down and tricked her into thinking she had poisoned her own mother, his grip on his cup tightened, ratcheting ever tighter until the cup shattered, clay grinding to dust in his fist.

Lightning ripped at the sky, thunder boomed, undulating across the sky outside like waves crashing to shore, without cessation.

The sight of Molly sitting on that thing - that spider's - knee and seeing how his cape responded had him rushing to the tub to vomit. Again and again he heaved, until he was but a hollowed out husk, an empty vessel. Yet still his body wracked him with pulse after pulse.

The witch sat waiting, his traitorous cat curled and purring upon her lap. Neither she, nor Toby made a single move to help him, he needed to feel this, he needed to see what he had allowed to come to pass.

At last, cleaned up and stomach settled, he returned to the table.

Witch Hudson took his hand, squeezed it and nodded at him, the message was clear; you will fix this because you must.

He watched Pearl and her lover and finally he understood, she wasn't fully mortal, every twenty fifth daughter of Pearl would have that golden spark breathed into life within them, they would hold the future of the world within the palm of their delicate hand and they would be able to be turned, to be immortal, whether by the good sorcerer or the dark.

It wasn't hard to figure it out, every twenty fifth daughter had fallen in love with the light sorcerer and the mage in turn with the girl. This time was different, as Moriarty had said, this time they had stacked the deck, they gave the mantle to a good sorcerer who believed love to be a weakness; in love with her, worshipping the very ground she stepped upon, he had nonetheless sent her away.

He had to laugh at his arrogance, he'd thought it all to do with himself, a grand destiny to be played out with the world as his stage. But it was all her, she wasn't just the catalyst. No incendiary device was she, to initiate the spark and then be cast aside like so much driftwood.

Backwards, he'd had it all turned inside out, he'd fallen for the ruse, hook line and sinker, only instead of a pretty girl, they'd used a criminal and his own massive ego as bait. Ironically, keeping his eyes on the pretty girl in this case would have made all the difference.

Moriarty on the other hand, had been given all of the information, the knowledge that she was the key piece, not the other sorcerer. So he was in a position to use that knowledge to his advantage, he couldn't make her fall in love but he could easily gain her freely given consent by using trickery,

When he saw Moriarty leaving he placed his palms on the table, face down, ready to push up from his seat, needing to clear his head.

He'd lost her, he'd lost Molly, thrown her to the wolves and in doing so, he'd lost the whole world. All because he was too childish to admit his love to a terrifying, tiny mortal girl.

Thanks so much for reading, thanks for coming on this journey with me..

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