Chapter 1

Molly stared out of the window of the unmarked car as they flew along the quiet motorway, whisking her further and further away from him, from Sherlock. She struggled to remain calm, not to get upset and make a show of herself in front of these strange men. The best way to manage that was not to think about him; certainly not to think about what he was doing or how he was feeling right now. Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them back furiously. She realised that she was also very scared. She had no idea who these men were or where she was going. She knew she was safe because Sherlock and Mycroft had let her leave with them, but besides that she knew absolutely nothing. No one had said a word to her either. She felt the anger, born of deep anxiety, rising in her and knew her emotions were all over the place. She took long deep breaths to calm herself down.

She leaned over and tapped the British agent on the shoulder. "Excuse me, but where are you taking me? Where am I going?" He turned around and said dispassionately,

"I'm sorry but I can't say yet. Perhaps when you are on the plane.." Molly felt the anger surge through her.

"That's unacceptable. I have a right to know where I'm going. Who am I going to tell? For heavens sake!" The man turned away from her and said, calmly and factually,

"I'm sorry Doctor Hooper, but that's standard procedure. Like I said, maybe when we get you on the plane." She exhaled an angry breath and pulled her mobile phone out of her pocket. The Irish Special Branch officer sighed sympathetically beside her.

"I'm sorry Miss, but you'll have no service, no network provider. They'll get you hooked back up again when it's considered safe." He softened his tone and spoke compassionately to her. "I know this is overwhelming, probably impossible to take in, but I need you to give me your phone now too Doctor. You were tracked to Grafton Street the other day and we are still not fully sure how. You will likely be given another phone when you reach your destination." She stared at her phone and sure enough, a 'no network' message flashed back at her. She handed it to him, and grumbled,

"Not much bloody good to me now anyway, is it?" She sighed, feeling slightly guilty. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm finding this a little difficult."

"That's perfectly understandable. There just hasn't been time to brief you on what to expect, and what is expected from you. Please be assured though, that you are safe, Dr Hooper, and that's rather the point. The rest will fall into place, ok?" He opened the car window and threw her phone out on the motorway and she gasped incredulously.

"Just a few short days ago, my flat, my home in London, was burned to the ground and that phone was one of the few remaining personal possessions I actually had left, and you've just thrown it out the bloody window!" She laughed self depreciatingly. "I'm sorry, I know how ridiculous I'm being. Things are just...,happening so fast." The British agent turned his head then and responded more kindly.

"You're doing just fine Dr Hooper. Things will become far more stable for you in the next forty eight hours, and you will be assisted to adjust as readily as possible. I know it sounds trite, but please try not to worry. Believe me, it is in our interest to keep you alive and well. You have been given the same security category as our top world leaders, and I'm not sure which Holmes brother I'd worry about more, should you even catch a cold!" Molly exhaled a laugh and nodded her head at him. She felt a little calmer. She had no idea when she would even speak to Sherlock again, never mind see him though, and as she felt the pain and distress of that new reality rising again, she reminded herself repeatedly that she wasn't going to think about that now.

The remaining journey passed in silence. Molly recognised the Baldonnel military airport as they swept through the security checkpoint and choked back a sob. She could hardly believe how much had happened in the few days since she had arrived here on Aoife's jet with her friends, and Sherlock caring for her, and wrapping his coat around her on the plane. She dug her nails into her palm and swallowed her distress back. The Irishman suddenly laughed in surprise as they approached the Gulfstream jet sitting on the runway.

"Jaysus mate, you weren't kidding. They've only provided one of the Irish Government jets!" He pointed to the Irish tricoloured flags on the sides of the cockpit, "And the newest one at that!" The British agent nodded approvingly.

"Smart move too. They'll be watching for private aircraft or for Aoife's jet. These jets carry the Taoiseach or your ministers all over Europe and ..."he paused and smiled at Molly "further afield, on official trips all the time. Good, lets go now Dr Hooper, and get you on board."

Ten minutes later, back in Aoife's house, Mycroft sighed and putting down his phone, he went in search of his brother. Sherlock was in his bedroom, case packed up and ready to go. He was standing staring out of the bay window, Molly's Harve Leger dress over his arm. He didn't move an inch but simply stated,

"She's left Ireland then?"

"Five minutes ago."

"Was she...how was she?"

"as expected.." Sherlock hissed in exasperation and warning.

"Mycroft..."

"She was frightened and distressed, Sherlock, but not tearful. She remained in control and calm. Like I said, 'as expected'." He paused then and asked quietly,

"How are you Sherlock?," his brother just shook his head slightly but Mycroft knew his tells. His shoulders were clenched tightly and he was running a thumb over the fabric of her dress.

"No, Mycroft, it's not a 'danger night'. I wouldn't do that to her. I wouldn't do that to us." Mycroft merely nodded.

"I know that Sherlock." He sighed deeply. "We leave for London first thing in the morning. Michael is coming with us. It would be prudent for you both to stay with me while Baker Street is being refurbished. Aoife has offered to assist you with that refurbishment, by the way, and by 'assist', knowing Aoife, she will take the plans and take over. She is happy to do it. One thing is definite. You will require the same bullet proof glass as our most 'at risk' embassy's. You will have the home for Molly that you promised her, Sherlock. Aoife will also assist with any Irish connections we unearth regarding Moran. I do think you should base yourself at my home because we can work tirelessly together there to bring Molly home. What father said tonight is true. You know it is. When we combine our resources and skills we are unstoppable. What say you?"

Sherlock was silent, considering all options, and made up his mind. His brother was right. He could use his help and probably Aoife's too. And knowing he was going ahead with the refurbishment may give Molly solace, something tangible to cling to, while everything else was so uncertain.

"I say, let's go home Mycroft." His brother nodded, deeply relieved.

"Oh, one more thing Sherlock," he said as he turned to leave the room, "the PM has rescinded your exile. It is now off the table." Sherlock sighed heavily.

"Not really Mycroft. It's just been transferred to Molly."

Mycroft closed the door quietly behind him.

Eight hours later an exhausted Molly blinked in the sunlight as she climbed down the steps of the Irish Government jet. She gaped in open mouthed astonishment at the two young United States marines standing to attention by a military jeep, waiting to escort her away from the runway. They snapped a salute at her and then one of them said, "Good morning M'am, and welcome to Quantico."