Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC.

Molly Hooper struggled against the hold of Moriarty but to no avail for he was stronger than he looked. "Who do we have here? Mousy Molly! One more incentive for you to kill yourself right here and now, Sherlock. Unless you would want to enjoy the spectacular showcase of this little pathologist's brain spraying out like a waterfall." Moriarty pressed the gun to her head to emphasis his point.

Molly wished she had the courage to confess to Sherlock about her feelings for him even though she knew it was probably unrequited. Molly also wished if everything could start all over again, she would do whatever it takes to prevent Moriarty from ever coming close to Sherlock but now it was not too late. The consulting criminal could still be stopped.

Sherlock standing a distance away from them seemed composed at the turn of events but his eyes barely concealed the hint of desperation in him. Molly knew they were standing near enough the rooftop ledge and needed just a little external force to fall off it so taking in a deep breath; she leaned all her weight on Moriarty and the two of them went plunging down. It was true what people said about your entire life flashing through the mind when you were about to die and Molly found that Sherlock was surprisingly quite involved in hers.

Stunned, the consulting detective urgently ran towards them but he was no match for gravity. Sherlock bent over the ledge with his arms stretched out and waving about but all his hands could grasp was the cold air. Throughout the seven seconds of her fall, Molly managed to lock eyes with Sherlock as she gave him a warm albeit sad smile.

The pedestrians gathered around as doctors and nurses rushed out from St. Bart's in an attempt to save them. Sherlock Holmes believed that his was among the shouts heard and perhaps the loudest.

She could hear a horse protested loudly in response to the reins being pulled back abruptly. Instinctively, Molly squatted down; arms covering the head for protection as the hoofs of said horse narrowly missed her. Bewildered, Molly sat right down in the middle of the cobbled street as her weakened legs gave way while the driver fanatically tried to calm down the horse.

Scarcely recovered from the many events that seemed to happen all at the same time, Molly noticed the air smelt different. It faintly smelt of urine, rotten meat, defecates and other unpleasant things that she did not want to further identify. She then took a double look at her surroundings and was speechless. This was not London, at least not the 21st century that she was familiar with.

"Are you alright, Miss? You should know better than to recklessly dash out onto the streets." The passengers in the carriage alighted and walked towards Molly.

"Sherlock? John? Where…I-I…What…" She stared at the duo that looked just like them except they were dressed in Victorian clothing, wearing top hats and such with a pipe in their hands. None of this made sense to Molly. One moment she was falling from the building and the next she's here, in a totally different world. The turmoil proved too much for Molly so her body had no choice but to shut down.

Author's note: I should take a break from writing but I could not stop myself. I'm asking for trouble, trying to write the Victorian times and definitely biting more than I could chew...