Chapter Text
Sherlock finished measuring the corpse’s nostrils, threw down the callipers and stripped off his gloves. “Let me know when the toxicology gets back.”
“Sure,” Molly smiled brightly despite the hour, “Uh, it might take a few hours. Did you want to get something to eat?”
Sherlock snapped his fingers. “Excellent idea. John, how do you feel about Thai?”
The doctor wrinkled his nose. “Not really my thing. Indian?”
“Possible.”
They strolled towards the exit, Sherlock’s hands clasped behind his back.
“Chinese?”
“We always get Chinese.”
“Well if you hadn’t alienated every other takeaway near the flat-”
The doors swung shut, cutting off the rest of John’s sentence and leaving Molly staring after them.
“Right.” she said softly.
The pathologist cleared her throat and started tidying up after Sherlock. Every time he visited, he somehow managed to trash her equipment table without even really touching it. Molly wasn’t sure why she was surprised - she’d seen the flat at Baker Street.
“For someone with an orderly mind, he certainly can’t keep anything else straight.” She told the naked man in front of her.
Molly wheeled him back to his drawer and slid the body in, closing everything up. It was late – there wouldn’t be many restaurants open. Maybe she’d stop by the cafeteria while the tox screen was running. Maybe there’d be a cute new doctor there, who wouldn’t mind that she looked exhausted or smelled of formaldehyde – and then what would Sherlock say? Nothing. He wouldn’t even notice. The only way the detective would ever notice her was if she ended up in the street with a chalk outline. Shaking her head at how pathetic she was, Molly gathered up the samples and headed for her lab.
As she dragged herself home in the quiet midnight hours, she cursed Sherlock for being ungrateful and mean, and herself for expecting anything different. When are you going to learn, Molly? Sherlock Holmes will never be interested in you. Fawning over him only makes it easier for him to crush you. She unlocked her door and dropped her bag on the side table, a soft miaow greeting her.
“Hey Toby. How was your day?” she bent to cuddle the tiny kitten.
He wriggled happily against her chest, demanding to be petted.
“You love me, don’t you? You don’t run off with someone else once you’ve got what you wanted.”
She went into her room and sank back on the bed without even taking her shoes off. It would irritate her eventually, but for now she was too tired to do anything but lay there and pity herself. How long have I been this much of a wimp? Never standing up for myself, never fighting for what I want. My work is something that freaks most people out yet it’s the one thing I’m not frightened of. With every passing minute Molly got angrier. She’d tried to be a good person her whole life, and where had it gotten her? Living alone in a cheap flat with a cat that would eat her face if she died in it. There had to be an alternative – she just needed to figure it.
Fired up, Molly quickly changed out of her work clothes into a comfy old woollen jumper and sweat pants. She took a pen and notepad and sat at her dining table to think about how she was going to change her life and start over. I can’t stay where I am, obviously. I want a nicer place and I can’t afford that on a Bart’s salary – not to mention always having Sherlock around being awful. She knew one harsh look from him would crumple her resolve. She wrote down ‘new job’ and ‘new flat’. New friends too – maybe I should join a club or something? Molly added ‘get a hobby’, and hesitated before adding ‘boyfriend’. That one sort of hurt to look at; it meant giving up the hope of anything ever happening with Sherlock, and she couldn’t honestly say she was ready to do that. I shouldn’t need a man to be happy anyway, right? She added a question mark after it, and felt her shoulders relax a little.
Molly sat back with a smile, envisioning this fantastic new life she’d laid out. But as her gaze skimmed over the points, her smile started to slip. Nothing about the list was really that different – it might seem glossier, flashier, but that was just the novelty of something new. She had a cosy flat, she had a good job, she had friends. If she changed everything on the list, she wouldn’t be living a new life, just a different version of her current one. She’d still be the same old Molly. She needed something drastic, something so far from the life she had now that she could never fall back into her old timidity and boredom and loneliness. Maybe she could move away? Somewhere sunny and strange where she’d have to learn a new culture.
“Fantastic. Then I’d be a loser in two languages.” She grumbled, shredding her list and dropping it on Toby’s head. He batted at the falling paper and flopped onto his back to tear it apart.
“Who am I kidding, Toby? I don’t know how to stop being this way.”
Then an idea struck her that was so terrible, so disastrous, so futile, Molly knew it was the one. She took her phone with shaking hands and pulled up a number she had always meant to delete, but never quite got around to.
Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me?
She pressed send with a heavy heart, mouth full of a metallic taste that might have been fear or adrenaline or a combination of the two. With nothing to do but wait, Molly tidied up the scraps of her list and went to bed. She was just about asleep when her phone vibrated violently on the bedside table.
Well, well. I’ll see you at Bart’s.
*****
He was Jim from I.T. again as if nothing had changed. “Hello, Molly.”
She set down her beaker before she could drop it. “I didn’t think you meant the lab. Sherlock could come in any moment.”
“He won’t. Mr Holmes is currently on the other side of the city, chasing down leads like the bloodhound he is, so we are all alone.” Moriarty batted his lashes.
Molly swallowed, gripping the edge of the counter. She’d had nightmares about this man, and now he was watching her from the other side of the bench like he wanted to dissect her. She took a deep breath. Something drastic.
“Thank you for coming. I didn’t expect you to answer.”
“Your text was intriguing. Using Sherlock’s words to pique my interest was masterful, but then you are clever, aren’t you? Under all the sweaters and girlish smiles. So go on, Molly. You’ve got my attention; tell me what I can do for you.”
“I need you to help me change my life.”
“Really? And why do you need that?” he slowly walked around the counter, tracing his fingers along the edge, “Not why, obviously – I mean look at you – but why me?”
“It’s what you do, isn’t it? Help people.” She shrugged.
Jim’s smile was cat-like. “After a fashion. But I don’t work for free, and you certainly can’t afford me.”
“What do you want?”
“Want?”
“To help. Since I don’t have the money.”
“Miss Hooper!” he gaped in pretend shock, “I’m stunned. You’re giving me carte blanche to make demands?”
“No, no I didn’t say that. I’m asking what you want. I haven’t decided if I’ll give it to you yet.”
His voice lost its playfulness. “But we both know you will.”
He was behind her now, so close she could feel his breath on her neck.
“Who else would you turn to, Molly? What would you do if I didn’t tell you how to escape?”
“I’d think of something.” Her voice wavered.
Jim laughed, the sensation seeming to pass through her as she felt his chest brush her back, the heat tickling her skin.
“If you could, you wouldn’t have called me.”
She spun, vision blurring as she teared up. “Please. I don’t know how to stop being...this.”
He tilted his head, eyes boring into hers across the scant distance between them. “What are you willing to do, Molly? Would you kill someone? Build me a bomb? Poison Sherlock? Rob a bank?”
She stared back, breathless. This was without a doubt the worst thing she had ever contemplated doing. Moriarty had a hundred different horrible schemes he might enlist her help on, with untold consequences – people could lose their jobs, their loved ones, their lives. But he also had the power to change her life in ways she couldn’t, opening doors she didn’t even know existed, funding whatever she needed. If there was one person in the whole world who could help her break free of…the things keeping her in limbo, it was Jim.
And as for what he might ask her to do, he could just ask someone else anyway. Did it matter if it was Molly? Maybe, if he wants something only I can give him, like Sherlock. Her stomach twisted at the thought. She couldn’t imagine how she would survive if anything happened to him, let alone if she was responsible. But again, if Jim wanted Sherlock, he had other ways of getting to him – if the detective didn’t throw himself in harm’s way first. A cool, glass-like clarity spread over Molly’s thoughts. What had Sherlock ever actually done to deserve her loyalty? Why should she feel bad about betraying him, after all the times he’d disregarded her and taken her for granted? She didn’t owe him anything beyond basic human decency, which was more than he gave her. Why did he get to be selfish, and not Molly? Maybe the first step to becoming someone new was to stop caring so much what other people thought.
“I’d do it.”
Jim’s brows shot up. “Congratulations, Molly. You’ve genuinely surprised me – I never dreamt you’d abandon your safe little life.”
She sighed. “Will you help me or not?”
He considered her a moment longer. “You weren’t like this before.”
“Maybe I’m finally sick of getting stepped on.”
“I can see that,” he bit his lip, “Alright, I’ll help you.”
“Really?” she gaped.
“Yes. I will make it so Molly Hooper no longer exists. You can forget her and start from scratch – but not just yet. I need you as you for a little bit longer.”
She grimaced. “Fine. Whatever it takes.”
“Whatever it takes,” he echoed with a curious smile, “Who knew you could be so entertaining?”
“What do you need?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
Jim leaned back against the counter next to her, hips almost touching. “You identify causes of death. Must have seen some interesting cases in your time?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Depends what you find interesting.”
“And you’ve got access to all these lovely chemicals,” he took a breath as if considering, “Could you make me something new?”
“Something...new?” she frowned.
“Something undetectable. Odds are you won’t be able to come up with anything original, given that I managed to find an untraceable poison at thirteen, but give it a shot. Wow me.”
Molly stared. “You want me to make you a new poison?”
“Or explosive or gas or something – think of the most difficult autopsies you’ve ever done and brew me up a little present. Then you’ll get your new life.”
Molly was horrified. She had helped catch dozens of killers in her own small way, and now Moriarty wanted her to give him a super weapon to be used on God knows who? Maybe even people she liked – or people she loved. But his offer hung tantalisingly close...and she’d said whatever it takes. She’d meant it.
“Fine. How soon do you want it?”
“Ooooo!” Jim clapped, “What fun! The china doll has a dark side after all. Take your time, dear; experiment on your lab mice as much as you need to. Just remember that the longer it takes, the longer you have to be Molly.”
Jim tipped an imaginary hat to her and strolled out, leaving her alone with her pipettes and vials and a paralytic fear of what she’d just agreed to.
*****
The first thing Molly did was consult her old notebooks. She ripped through the stacks like a madwoman, compiling a shortlist of every death that had stumped her, every clever murderer, everything she’d worked on with Sherlock. Then she cross-referenced with her medical books and ruled out anything too detectable, too obvious and created a full list of unusual lethal substances – especially the ones that would look like an accident. Too much salt, too much water, too much caffeine: there wasn’t much that wouldn’t kill you in the right amount, no matter how innocent it seemed. For weeks Molly Hooper put as much effort as possible into working out the ideal way to kill a man, and she didn’t feel bad about it once. She told herself it was all hypothetical really – a uni assignment. Using the detachment that made it so easy for her to work with the dead and so hard to interact with the living, Molly thought only in chemical formulas and biological reactions.
Getting lab time to test any of it was harder. She could get most of the supplies from hospital stores without too much fuss, but there was always a chance of being interrupted – especially by Sherlock, who never gave her forewarning and was the last person she wanted nosing about her business. So she’d been reduced to staying late after her night shifts, when even the great detective was less likely to be about, and test her theories on the unfortunate mice from the cancer research ward.
“Sorry, guys.” She dropped yet another tainted cheese cube into their cage.
Molly leaned closer, pen at the ready as the creatures stuffed their squeaking faces. She was so intent on watching for any sign of a reaction that she didn’t notice someone come in. After another few minutes the mice started violently throwing up, but as soon as it was out of their system they waddled away happily enough.
“Damn it.” She sighed.
“Less metal next time, I think.”
She spun to face him, almost falling off her stool. “Don’t do that!”
Jim beamed. “I thought I’d stop by and see how my favourite chemist was doing.”
“Not great.” Molly huffed.
“You made them wretchedly sick – that’s a start.”
“Is it? They’re supposed to be dead.” She flounced around the lab, fiddling with her equipment.
“Patience, dear. You’re closer than I expected.”
“Why are you even here?” she stopped suddenly, glaring at him.
“I told you,” Jim shrugged as he opened the cage and pulled out a mouse, “I’m checking in.”
“Did you think I’d changed my mind?”
Jim tapped the tiny white head under his fingers. “Have you?”
“Clearly not.”
“Then I’m sorry for the intrusion.”
“No, you’re not.” She regarded him scornfully, so frustrated with her result she forgot to be afraid of him.
Moriarty raised the mouse so he could meet its beady gaze. “I like this one. I’m going to keep him.”
“If he dies later, let me know?” Molly quipped.
He chuckled and sauntered out.
*****
When she finally found the right answer, she practically danced around the lab. There were fifteen dead mice that proved this was the one. Molly glanced at the clock. 4am...I should probably wait a few hours. But she was too eager, too excited. Here was her ticket out, and Jim could just deal with being woken up. She tossed the tiny pills into a container, tugged off her gloves and dialled. He answered on the second ring.
“I take it you’ve got something for me?”
“Yes. When can I meet you?”
“We’re having dinner at Black Forest.”
“What, now?” she looked down at her lab coat and scrubs, “I’m not dressed for it.”
“Figure something out, Molly. We’ll still be here; ask for Greichner.”
He hung up and she slowly lowered the phone. Did she have something stashed away at the hospital, or was she going to have to go all the way to her flat first? There was nothing she could think of – the only thing in her locker were the jeans and sweater she’d worn to work that day, and they weren’t exactly restaurant-worthy. Molly sighed, the tiredness she’d been holding off for weeks starting to catch up with her now the initial excitement was fading. Maybe it was just better to clean up and get some sleep, particularly before she met with a dangerous criminal.
She had some vague idea that if Jim liked her formula, she might not come back to St Bart’s, so she started gathering anything she might want to take with her. Molly was scanning through a cupboard when she saw it: the dress for her fourth date with Jim, the one that never materialised due to certain sexuality-related pretences. It wasn’t her usual style at all, a pale pink satin sheath with a sweetheart neckline that fell to just below her knees. She’d bought it on a lunchbreak and put it in the cupboard, only to be told by Sherlock her date was actually gay. Between being angry at Sherlock and letting Jim down easy, Molly had totally forgotten it was there.
“Right. Let’s get on with this.”
Black Forest was immediately intimidating just from the outside. The building was all black, shiny flat walls with an enormous futuristic bronze door – but once inside it transformed into a Gothic wonderland. The walls were red and black velvet, the floor a dark wood, and the light came from dim chandeliers hanging low over the small tables. Despite the fact it was almost five, it was still packed; mostly men in suits with the odd spectacularly good-looking woman beside them. Molly took one look at the red-lit bar and knew she didn’t belong here. Didn’t, past tense, she argued, I do now.
A young waiter came over, giving her outfit an appreciative glance. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
“Uh, I’m looking for someone.” She scanned the crowd.
“Do you have a name?”
“Um, Greichner?”
“Right this way.”
She followed him to the very back corner and found Jim in his usual suit with another two similarly dressed men. They were much bigger though, stockily built and mid-forties. One had a greying goatee and the other’s head was shaved. Both had a lot of gold on their fingers.
Jim smiled wide when he saw her. “Ah, Fräulein Molly! Good of you to join us.”
He stood, hand resting on the small of her back as he kissed her cheek. She froze, but he’d already stepped back to pull out a chair for her.
“I like the dress.”
She sat, smoothing out the satin. “Thank you.”
“This is Herr Greichner,” Jim indicated the bearded man, “And his associate Bruin.”
“Charmed, fräulein.” Greichner nodded.
“A glass for the lady.” Jim nodded to the waiter, who disappeared back towards the bar and returned a moment later with an empty champagne flute, filling it from the bottle on the sideboard.
Molly took it with a tight smile, not sure she needed a drink on top of her sleep deprivation. Jim raised his glass to her, and she took a reluctant sip.
“I’m so glad you could join us – we’d almost run out of things to talk about,” Greichner clapped his ring-clad hands, “You must tell us everything about yourself. How do you know our friend here?”
She curled her lip. “Friend is a strong word.”
“Molly is an old flame who tragically broke my heart,” Jim clutched at his chest, “But I have forgiven her.”
“You made the right choice, fräulein. You can do better.”
Jim gave an outraged scoff. “I’m hurt, Greichner. How long have we known each other?”
“Since I was much younger and much more handsome,” he chuckled, “And still we have not met in person before tonight.”
Molly shot Jim a glance. She had a thick, worried feeling in her stomach and the devilment in his smile only made it worse.
Bruin patted his pockets, standing. “I need a smoke. Jungen?”
“I’ll come with you. These ridiculous rules about no smoking at the table! In my day you could barely see across the room!” Greichner guffawed, both men heading to the bar.
She waited until they were out of earshot. “You’re going to kill them, aren’t you?”
Jim chuckled under his breath. “You picked up on that? Shame, they haven’t. Did you bring me something?”
Gritting her teeth, Molly reached into her bag and grabbed the container.
“Under the table if you please, dear.”
She glanced at the bar, but neither man seemed to be watching them. She leaned towards him and slid her hand across his thigh. Jim’s brow twitched, a smile creeping over his face as he took the pills. They stayed close, voices low.
“What do they do?”
“Fast acting dehydrator. They react with the salt in your bloodstream, drying you up until the concentration kills you. Drinking more only makes it worse. It’ll look like bad diet and high blood pressure.”
“How long?” he whispered.
Molly shrugged. “Depends on the original level of hydration. Half an hour, maybe more.”
“Good, good – plenty of time to establish an alibi. You’ve tested it?”
“On mice.”
“How do you feel about trying it on a human?” he smirked.
She blanched. “Now?”
“Why not? I already have something else lined up for them; if these don’t work it can still go ahead.”
Molly took a deep breath. In for a penny? “Fine.”
Jim rested a finger under her chin and kissed her, his lips firm but fleeting. “Excellent! Go distract them for me.”
“What?” she hissed.
“The bathrooms are near the bar. Just flash them a grin on your way past.”
Molly stood, running her hands down her dress. She took a breath, glancing at him.
Jim winked. “Show them what you’re made of, Molly Hooper.”
Feeling oddly reassured, she wormed her way through the tables to where the Germans were puffing on their cigars. She flashed Greichner a grin – not a timid Molly grin, but the grin she might have given if she was the kind of girl who had one-night stands, the kind who saw something she liked and wasn’t afraid to show it. He returned it, twisting to watch as she walked down the corridor, and she drew herself up a little straighter with a warm rush of pride and adrenaline.
The bathrooms were the nice kind, with private stalls that had their own sink and mirror. Molly locked herself in and leaned on the counter. She looked pretty crappy, given that it was dawn and she’d barely slept, but the dress cancelled some of that out. As she held her own gaze the sense of excitement died away, as if being out of Jim’s wild orbit had brought her back to her senses.
“What am I doing?”
It was one thing to make Jim a poison knowing he would use it, but actually seeing the victims was another – and helping him do it was like going from nought to 100. I can’t go back out there and smile and be casual! I’m not a killer! She could feel herself starting to panic, her pulse speeding up. Who had she been kidding, all these weeks? Playing this game for Moriarty, pretending she could be like him – cold, ruthless, violent. That wasn’t who she was…but wasn’t that kind of the point?
Molly quickly splashed her face, the cool water soothing as it ran down her neck. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, hugging herself with one arm. I can’t hide in here forever. She looked at herself again, and the words struck her. She was so used to being in the background – unremarkable Molly, alone all day in the morgue, only part of the gang when she was useful. What was hiding underneath? What was she really capable of? She didn’t even know. Maybe this was her, and she’d just never realised until Jim asked her the right questions. Molly wasn’t sure who she wanted to be, but she knew she didn’t want to be that girl in the background anymore.
She strode back to the table, trying to give off something between John’s quiet confidence and the way Sherlock didn’t give a fuck about anyone around him, head high.
“Ah, Molly! We were about to toast.” Jim smiled.
He handed her a glass and she paused. What if he’d decided to get rid of her too? It made sense to tie up loose ends, and she knew what he looked like. Molly searched Jim’s gaze for any sign she was about to poison herself, but he just stared at her levelly. Too late now. She threw back the wine and he grinned.
“Sláinte.”
Molly wasn’t sure how he could stand the wait. As the half hour drew nearer and nearer she had to force herself not to fidget. She didn’t want to be here when the effects kicked in – if they did. She could have failed again.
“Have you ever been to the real Black Forest, fräulein?” Bruin asked.
“No. Is it nice?”
“Ha! It is the most terrifying place on earth. Dark, endless, tangled. You could get lost in an instant and never find your way out.”
“Like Hansel and Gretel?” Molly teased.
For some reason Jim found that funny, laughing as he poured himself more wine.
“Yes! Just like that.” Bruin nodded emphatically.
“What is the time, Haus?” Greichner furrowed his brow, blearily looking at Jim.
“Ah...6:10.”
“Christ! Our flight is at 13:00. Come on Bruin, let’s get back to the hotel before I pass out here and make you carry me.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.” The other man rolled his eyes.
The Germans stood and buttoned their jackets. “A pleasure as always, Herr Haus.”
“It was good to finally meet.” Jim nodded.
“Fräulein Molly. I pray we see you again someday.” Greichner took her hand, kissing it.
“Perhaps sooner than you think.”
“I hope so!” he laughed, waving to Jim as they walked away.
Molly let out a tired sigh, slumping back in her chair. Jim propped his face in his hands, studying her.
“I’m astounded.”
“I told you I wanted to be someone new.”
“I didn’t know you had it in you. I might have to put some more thought into my end of our bargain.”
Hope sprung up in her chest. “You mean you’ll do it?”
“Provided I hear I have a dead German who couldn’t watch what he ate – yes.”
She smiled wider than she had all night. “Thank you, Jim.”
“Come along, Molly. It’s very late – or early – and we should get you home.”
She let herself be put into a cab, winding down the window when Moriarty didn’t immediately leave.
“Jim? Would you have killed me too?”
He smiled. “Only if the occasion called for it. I waited fifteen years for them, after all.”
The next day Greichner was on the front of the paper – ‘German smuggling boss suffers major heart attack’. She folded the page with a smile.
*****
Jim hadn’t told her not to keep up her normal routine, but Molly couldn’t have done it anyway; she had a month’s worth of missed sleep to catch up on. She called in sick and stayed in bed for days, cuddling Toby and watching TV. It didn’t feel so pathetic now that she had the promise of more, and she let herself enjoy the time off. It was almost a week before she heard from him, going giddy with anticipation as soon as she saw his name on the screen.
Portobello markets - I’ll find you.
Molly had expected to feel more anxious when the moment came, maybe even a little sad about leaving her old life behind, but all she felt now was impatient to get started. She’d sat next to Jim Moriarty and flirted with a man she knew was going to die – surely there was nothing more to be afraid of. She quickly fashioned herself a good, secure sling for Toby and headed out, leaving the rest of her things behind.
Portobello was as busy as ever, the rows of brightly coloured fruits and clothes and jewellery spread along the road. She figured Jim would find her easily enough, so she wandered, weighing things that called to old Molly and things she liked but maybe wouldn’t have been brave enough to try in the past. She was inspecting some fresh fish when she spotted him, casual in a jacket and jeans.
“Molly dearest! Walk with me.”
She fell into step with him automatically, weaving their way through the other shoppers.
“I saw the news. It worked.”
“Even better than planned, actually. I am impressed. The formula’s similar to something a scientist is working on in eastern Romania, but effective enough. You’re certainly delivered on your end.”
“So...what happens now?”
Jim stopped, and she realised they’d reached the end of the street.
“Now we come to a choice, Molly. You handled yourself well at the restaurant. And you seem to have no qualms about what you provided me with, or how I used it.”
She shrugged. “I don’t have time for qualms.”
“But did you secretly find it distasteful? Did you go home and toss in bed about it?”
“No.”
He grinned. “You liked it - not being yourself, working with me.”
“I guess.”
“Then why not do it all the time?”
Molly blinked. “Sorry?”
“Work for me. You wanted a new life, something different to being the good girl that everyone ignores? You’d never have to worry about that with me, Molly. You can be ridiculously wealthy. You can travel. You can meet lots of dangerous people and help me kill them.”
“Don’t you have people better qualified for this?” she spluttered.
“People I can pay, yes, but employees just aren’t the same. There’s my anonymity to consider. Not to mention I’ve seen how loyal you can be, and I’m sure with the right encouragement your talents can bloom.”
She was quiet for a moment, listening to the sounds of the road. “Is this to get to Sherlock? You know, so you can rub it in his face later?”
“Would you care if it was?”
“No.” She said with certainty.
“That’s door number 1, anyway. Door number 2 is an all expenses-paid one-way trip to Rio, to a furnished apartment and a new identity. It’s the freedom you wanted, and it’s far, far away from here.”
“And what will I do in Rio?”
Jim shrugged. “Whatever you want. Help orphans, build houses, sell hats for all I care.”
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick envelope.
“You can choose, Molly. Take this and get a cab to the airport. Or stay with me and live for the next challenge.”
She didn’t know. She kept flashing over and over to the thought she’d had before: what would be so different about life somewhere else? After all, she needed to change, not her city. But Moriarty’s offer came with the biggest catch of all – Moriarty. He was crazy; she wouldn’t ever be safe with him, not to mention the added dangers of becoming a criminal. What if she couldn’t survive in his world? She’d have to do things that in the past would have disgusted her. Was a little adventure worth that?
Molly looked into those bottomless black eyes and realised that Jim didn’t know what she was going to say either, his lip caught between his teeth with a hungry expression. How many people could say they’d surprised the criminal mastermind, not just once but multiple times?
“I’ll stay.”
“Wonderful!” Jim clicked his fingers and a car on the other side of the road started, “Let’s remake you, starting with that unfortunate wardrobe.”
Molly felt a bit strange trying things on for Jim given their whole faux-dating history, but he was petting Toby so patiently, and psychopath or not she couldn’t help feeling a bit better about him if he’d earned the kitten’s trust. Besides, she was trying to be someone who didn’t feel self-conscious about her looks, so subjecting herself to his critical eye was good practice.
“What about a name?” she called through the dressing room door.
“Anything you particularly like?” he asked.
She made a face as she pulled on the next shirt. “Nothing like Molly. It’s too, too...little girly. Too sweet, too cute.”
“Alright. Something majestic then, striking? How about Catherine or Victoria?”
“Urgh, no. Too stuffy. I mean they’re pretty but...I want something that demands attention, but not too much. You know, unusual without being weird.”
“Hmm...Christina? Jacqueline?”
She opened the door. “What about Evelyn?”
“Evelyn?” Jim nodded in approval of the outfit.
“Yeah. It’s sort of old-fashioned so you don’t hear it very much, and it sounds sort of formidable, like a professor. Plus I can be Eve for short.”
“With all its Biblical connotations,” he waggled his brows, “Alright, Evelyn. Last name?”
“Smith. Blends in.”
“Very sensible, if you want to get caught. Smith is much too easy to remember because it’s so common. Pick something harder.”
Molly pouted, thinking. “Walsh.”
“Better, easily misheard in crowded places.”
She turned to face the mirror, tilting her head as she examined her reflection. Evelyn Walsh. It seemed to fit with the tight pencil skirt and silk blouse. She said it a few more times in her head, then mouthed it, testing the feel.
“I like it.”
“Do you want a middle name?”
Molly shrugged. “Dealer’s choice.”
He gasped. “Such trust! That won’t serve you in this line of work, dear.”
She turned back to face him. “I’m putting my entire life in your hands, Jim. My middle name is the least of my worries.”
“Having second thoughts?” he pursed his lips.
“No. Just being realistic.”
He stroked Toby’s head. “I can have the appropriate documents run up while we lunch. What are you in the mood for?”
Molly smiled. “Something different.”
After lunch they headed for her new flat. It was in Docklands with the trendy types, a large, airy place that might have intimidated her before. But now Molly – Eve, she reminded herself - thought it fitting. It was very tropical getaway, with cream furniture and a balcony covered in bright green pot plants. Eve loved it.
“Go on Tobes, explore.” She released the kitten to prowl around their new living room.
Jim headed for the kitchen. There was an envelope and a set of keys on the counter; he tore it open and tipped out a phone, IDs, bank cards - all the things Evelyn Walsh would need. There were cards with different names, for illicit or incognito purposes she supposed, and four copies of the ID, each with a different hair colour.
“Gives you some idea, Eve. You’ll find the appropriate supplies in the bathroom. What takes your fancy?”
She thought for a moment, quickly discarding the blonde. She was tossing up between a vibrant red and black when she decided that even if the whole idea was not to be overlooked, being able to blend in might be a bonus.
“Black.”
“Excellent choice. I’ll leave you to sort yourself out, but I’ll be in touch in a day or two.”
“Thank you, Jim. For everything.”
“It’s what I do.”
He walked towards the door and stopped, spinning slowly on one heel. The look he gave her was razor-sharp.
“Oh, and Evelyn? Remember you’re not Molly anymore. You can’t contact Mr Holmes.”
She stuck out her chin. “I never want to see him again.”
Jim’s mouth quirked. “Fantastic. Ciao!”
He breezed out, taking some of the energy in the room with him. Eve decided to check out the rest of the apartment like Toby. She found a bedroom with a decently sized ensuite, a smaller powder room for her guests – a novel idea really, given that the only person ‘she’ knew anymore was Jim – and a laundry. She got to work unpacking the things Jim had bought her, and when she was finished it felt a little more real.
“Alright. Time for the final touch.”