Moriarty's Babies

Part 12

While Irene prepared lunch, Moriarty was in the living room with Molly and Sherlock. Sherlock was buckled into his swing, and Moriarty sat across from Molly on the floor.

"Come 'ere, baby." Moriarty cooed, patting his legs.

Molly just stared at him, confused. This must have been a trap, right?

"Come on, love, you can crawl if you want to." Moriarty encouraged. Molly just sucked on her dummy. Whatever he was planning, he wasn't gonna trick her. The last time she was up on her own only got her in trouble, and she didn't want to get any more shots.

Moriarty stood and scooped Molly up, kissing her crown.

"That's my good girl. We're not gonna have any trouble with you anymore, are we?" He cooed. He laid Molly down in her swing and went to make bottles for Molly and Sherlock.

It was clear now that Moriarty was testing if Molly will try doing anything on her own. She thought about this for a while. She had to play along and act infantile, and not do anything independently.

If Moriarty thought she was helpless, she could use it to her advantage.

Moriarty stepped back into the living room, a bottle for each of the two. He set one bottle on the table and picked up Sherlock, sitting with him on the couch.

Molly waited patiently for a couple minutes. While she wasn't too hungry, babies usually cried to be fed, so maybe she should too.

While Moriarty was preoccupied with Sherlock, Molly thought of everything she could think of that would upset her. It worked rather quickly, and Molly began to cry, dummy falling from her mouth.

Moriarty looked over at her, concerned.

"Aww, what's the matter, poppet? You'll get your bottle shortly, I promise." He soothed, refocusing on Sherlock.

The boy finished his bottle and Moriarty burped him, setting him down in his swing. He went to pick up Molly, carrying her over to the couch.

Molly calmed down and Moriarty popped the bottle in her mouth, singing softly to her.

"There, that's better, isn't it?" Moriarty cooed, kissing Molly's forehead. 

She drank the rest of her bottle, and Moriarty burped her before setting her back down in her swing. He went to the kitchen to eat, sitting next to Irene at the counter.

Molly got cosy in her swing, letting the gentle motions soothe her. She was glad that she could get a little break from the baby act, even though she was in a swing designed for infants. She merely closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

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Lestrade peered down at his phone, resting a hand on his chin. He was getting worried; they had not seen John in about a day or two, since they began this rescue mission.

"Maybe he's been compromised." Mycroft said solemnly, trying to keep a brave face. He did miss John, and they had become quite close since he's known him.

"I've half a mind to bust in there and take the lot of them. This is bollocks." Lestrade grumbled, reaching for the door.

His phone pinged, and he looked at it once again. There was a text message attached to a photograph. It was dark, but lestrade could tell that the subject of the photo was John.

'Don't worry, dr Watson is fine. He will be returned to you later on, so long as you do what I say.' Read the text.

Lestrade glared out the window, certain that Moriarty knew exactly where they were.

'Drive away, and don't come back. Don't send any backup to my home, or you won't see your friend again.'

Mycroft looked over Lestrade's shoulder at the text and started the car, much to the inspectors protest.

"We can't leave him here, that's mental!" He argued. Mycroft quieted him with a raised hand before speaking.

"We have to, Greg. John is capable of holding his own. We'll see him tonight, so it's best not to stir the pot." Mycroft replied, turning out of the small street.

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Irene picked molly up from her swing and carried her up to the master bedroom, laying her down on the floor.

"Mummy's gonna change you, love, then we need you to be awake for a while, okay?" She cooed, watching as mollys eyes opened.

Molly sucked her dummy as Irene changed her. While she'd rather not mess herself at all, she was much more comfortable with Irene changing her. Moriarty always made her feel embarrassed, when it was his fault she was in this situation in the first place.

As Irene powdered Molly and taped her into a clean nappy, she leaned in close to molly, kissing her forehead.

"I'll be right back." She said, walking into the attached bathroom. Molly took this opportunity to turn onto her stomach. She wanted to try crawling, but Irene came back just in the moment.

Molly looked up at her, wide eyed.

"It's alright, poppet. I won't tell daddy. You're still just a small baby after all."

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John sat up, dazed. He was hungry and thirsty, and his legs were cold. He looked around the small room, seeing that it was still dark.

The door creaked open and he looked up to see Moriarty. He gulped and averted his gaze, hoping the criminal wouldn't speak to him.

"I see that the dummy was a good choice for you. It's done worlds to calm you down." Moriarty said, putting on a chipper voice.

John rolled his eyes and tucked his knees up, holding his legs with his arms.

"Have you used your nappy?" Moriarty asked, circling the doctor. This was harder to ignore than the previous comment, but John bit his tongue. He didn't want to anger the man.

Moriarty checked John's nappy and nodded. It was dry, much to John's relief. He watched as Moriarty stood, waiting for the man to leave, but he didn't. He smiled at John, making the doctor nervous. He must be planning something, right?

"Moriarty," John mumbled past the dummy, but the criminal shushed him.

"Save it, Johnny." He said, looking down at John. He held a syringe in his hand and brought it to John's neck, poking it into a vein.

John winced, feeling woozy. He crumpled to the floor, vision getting blurry. He heard Moriarty chuckle, slipping into sleep.

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It was nearing 10 at night as Mycroft and Lestrade sat at 221B baker street, silent and apprehensive. Mycroft had been calming lestrade's nerves since they arrived that afternoon, but the inspector was getting agitated.

"If he doesn't get here soon-" he began, when the pair heard a knock at the door. Lestrade jumped up and looked through the peephole, flinging the door open.

There sat John, eyes closed and legs bare, save for the nappy around his waist. Lestrade quickly pulled him into the flat, carrying him back to his room.

Mycroft watched the two, spotting a dummy in the doctor's mouth. Memories of Sherlock flooded his mind, and he couldn't help but feel guilty. He had sent Sherlock back to Moriarty, all because he didn't want to damage his family name.

What good was a name if you didn't have family to share it with?

Lestrade returned to the living room, slumping onto the couch.

"I have no clue if they've regressed him too, I suppose we'll just have to wait until he wakes up." He said, looking at Mycroft.

"Yes, I guess so." The politician replied.