Hey everyone! Don't hate, please, I tried to make this completely canon. It's also my first Sherlock fic, so let's see how this goes...
If you've seen any of my stories before, you'll know that I write best in the PJO/HoO series, and I've never tried writing from a TV or film series before :/ ah, well
Enjoy!
Did you miss me?
Someone had obviously left the telly on in the locker room. Molly rolled her eyes and tried to concentrate on the aged man in front of her. Heart attack…no, possible cardiac arrest…
Did you miss me?
It was a strange advert, with the voice going high, like they'd breathed in helium, and then incredibly deep. Probably for some horror film. A ghost from the past, perhaps.
Did you miss me?
In fact, it sounded like a film had gotten stuck. She should really turn it off; it was grating on her nerves.
Did you miss me?
Sighing, Molly let the old man's eye slip shut again and wandered down the corridor. She wondered where Sherlock was now. John had called her the other day to tell her that Mycroft had exiled his brother after the shooting of Charles Magnussen, the corporate billionaire, and that none of them could expect to see him again.
Did you miss me?
Molly turned into the locker room and froze.
Did you miss me?
There, on the screen, was a face she'd hoped never to see again. His dark hair was slicked back perfectly, as if nothing had ever happened. A smarmy smirk was plastered across his face, and his mouth moved up and down like a bad animation.
A ghost from the past, all right.
She took a breath. Then another, and another. The air couldn't seem to reach her lungs. She felt nausea rush up from the pit of her stomach and dizziness swirling from the centre of her head. This couldn't be true.
Her fingers started to tingle, and she realized how hard she'd been gripping the fabric of her lab coat. She knew why he was back. He had cheated death, somehow, to get his revenge on Sherlock for cheating death and still managing to save his friends. But not just Sherlock. No. Anyone who had helped him with the deception would be a target too.
That meant all of Sherlock's homeless workers, and Mycroft, and…her.
Turning, she stumbled blindly to her locker, reaching for her phone and pulling up her contacts. Scrolling down with fumbling fingers, she found his number, and dialed it. Sherlock.
It went to voicemail, saying his phone was busy. Molly shook her head to clear her thoughts and called Greg instead.
"Molly! You okay?"
"No, no." She'd only just realized she was sobbing. "Turn on your TV, Greg, it's…it's awful. H-he's back."
"I know, I was watching the football."
"W-we need Sherlock."
"You heard what John said-"
Her temper flared up. "Call John! Get him to talk to Mycroft. I don't care what he's done, he-"
"Calm down, it might not even be him. Probably just some shoddy animation."
"That managed to hack every single television in England?"
There was a pause. "I'll – oh, just a sec."
"What?"
"Text."
Molly's own phone buzzed at her ear. Pulling it away from her head, she checked it.
Just touched down. Back in England. Sentence rescinded on grounds of major crisis. SH. He must have sent that round to everyone, but a second text came through a moment later. Don't worry, Molly. I will make sure he doesn't hurt you. You're safe. Sherlock.
She couldn't help but smile. Despite all the history between them, she knew Sherlock would always protect her. He may have seemed like a pompous cock all the time, but that hid a heart as warm as anyone's, that would never allow any one of his friends to be hurt. In fact, he had faked his own death to protect them.
"Greg? Are you still there?"
"Right here. Did you just get-?"
"Yes. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."
"Molly-"
"I should probably get back to work. I'm sorry to have bothered you."
"Molly-"
"Give John a call. He has to be feeling a bit-"
"Molly."
"Yes?"
"It's a Saturday, Moll. Go home, relax a bit. Calm down."
"I-I will, in a bit."
"Good. And, well, don't worry too much. I know I feel a lot better now."
"Yes, me too. Thank you, Greg."
The TV was still on, playing his face. Did you miss me? Did you miss me?
How had he done it? There had been no body on the rooftop, and Sherlock hadn't stuck around long enough to give a detailed account of what had happened, only that he had 'shot himself in the mouth'.
Molly shook her head again and flipped the thing off at the socket. Whatever happened, something big was coming. Something Sherlock had promised to protect her from, but something she knew she would end up getting caught up in anyway. Even worse, she knew what that something was. It would be the final showdown between Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty.
How was that, then? Please review, it took me ages!
Thanks for reading!
-Ciara
