Soufflés, Skype and Sherlock Holmes

Great Game Finale

Molly Hooper unnecessarily tucked her hair behind her ear as she took a sip of her drink. "Has umm," she flushed red, "has Sherlock mentioned me lately?" She tried to appear as if this teensy bit of information didn't matter but her eyes were too hopeful and eager.

Clara coughed on her drink. "Oh, um..."

"It's not important really, I was just wondering...you know," Molly trailed off into a nervous laugh. She looked around the pub uneasily.

"Well we go to St. Barts a lot," Clara provided. Molly's crush was one that Sherlock exploited regularly. Clara made a mental note to chide him about it later.

Molly spun her glass around on the small table. "Are you and Sherlock, um...." She finished the sentence with an obvious but nervous grin.

Clara spluttered and choked on her drink. "Oh my goodness, no! God no!"

"Oh!" Molly seemed a bit too pleased. "Well, I just thought because you two hang around a lot and solve cases together and almost live together and the things Mrs Hudson says..."

"Molly," Clara gave a warm smile. "I'm paid to supervise him, that's all. And Mrs Hudson is just gossiping as usual."

Molly smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I just thought..."

"Don't worry, Molly! Okay?"

"Okay."

The nightly drinks at a pub had become a regular occurrence for the two women. Sherlock was the topic most of the time but now and then they laughed over what happened in the news or on telly. Sherlock would probably be confused on being the conversation starter most nights, but Clara, after talking with John, agreed that he would pretend to not be surprised.

Clara looked at her watch. "Whoops, I've got to be going; Mrs Hudson said she would cook dinner tonight." Clara waved good bye and trotted around the tables. She hailed a cab and slid onto the fake leather seats. "Baker Street, please," she directed. The cab peeled off, onto the road. It was a few minutes before Clara realised she wasn't on the usual route home. "Sorry, but you were meant to take the street a few blocks back." The cabbie didn't reply. Clara leaned forward and spoke loudly as they passed even more streets. "I think you're going the wrong way, I need to go to Ba-ker Street."

The cab screeched to a stop at a darkened area. Only one street light illuminated the area. Clara was jolted forward and managed to stop herself with her hand. "Where are we? Where have you taken me?" she demanded.

The cabbie got out and opened a door. Clara stepped out and was ready to scold the cabbie when a voice echoed through the darkness. "Hi, Clara Oswald," the voice was strange and slightly menacing. The words were pronounced weirdly as if the speaker didn't like the conventional form of talking. "I thought you might show up."

"Who is this?" Clara swallowed and watched as the cab sped off down the street.

"How's Sherlock? I really thought he would call."

Clara cocked her head to one side. "I know you, don't I?"

"Sherlock's right....He always goes for the smart ones. The less boring ones..." the speaker paused. "I guess that's something we have in common. Though, I don't keep them, unlike him."

"Who are you?" He stepped out of the shadows, dressed in an elegant suit and tie. Clara let out a shocked puff of air. "Jim," she murmured. "Jim, from IT."

"Jim Moriarty," he smiled with dead black eyes. "Hi!"

Then something stung in her arm and darkness swept over her head.