Molly covered the cut on her leg with her hand and backed away as the man in front of her waved the blade dangerously menacingly in front of her.

His name was Phillip and he was a new surgeon at St Barts, having taken a job at the hospital a month ago. He seemed kind of shy, so Molly was kind to him, thinking that having a friend would help smooth his transition. She had no idea that he'd end up obsessed with her.

Sherlock had never liked Phillip because he hung around her too often. Molly herself understood his qualms and even though Phillip was nice, she agreed that it'd be best to put a limit on their time together. It seemed to work because he got the message and left her alone...until several minutes ago when he burst into the lab and stabbed her with a long carving knife.

"Molly, why couldn't you just love me? We'd be so good together!" Phillip had truly become unhinged as tears streamed down his cheeks and his breathing became shaky.

The pathologist tamped down her emotions, forcing herself not to panic. Luckily, Molly managed to send out an sos text to Sherlock before Phillip knocked her mobile away and stabbed her leg. All she could wrote was "Bart's. Help. Phillip is here." It wasn't a detailed message, but enough to let the detective know that she was in danger.

"Phillip, you don't want to do this. Just put the knife down."

"I know I don't, but you rejected me. Why him, Molly? Why do you want that stupid detective with the funny hat? He's not good enough for you!"

Molly gritted her teeth and quelled the rage that surged within her. She had been dating Sherlock for two months now, but people still felt they had the right to talk about their relationship. It was a sore spot for her even though she didn't care what they said. "You don't know anything about him."

"Yes, I do! I've read his blog and I've heard what people say. He's an arse and he's not worth your time, but I work with you. I see you nearly every day and I always listen to you, but you still don't care. You've been avoiding me and I know it's because he told you to. You're like his puppet! You lowered yourself to his level and he controls you, but I would never do that to you."

Molly cringed at his declaration. "You say you love me, but look at what you've done to my leg. You stabbed me. That's not love, Phillip; it's hate."

He howled and began to stab his thigh with the knife and Molly felt her blood run cold. He was truly deranged. "No! It is love! It is! You just don't want to accept it!"

"I can't accept it, Phillip. I told you from the beginning that we could only be friends, but you refused to listen. I never led you to believe I wanted anything more than that."

"Why did you have to be so nice?" He choked out.

"Because that's how I always am. I'm always nice and if you think me being nice to you means that we're supposed to be together, I'm sorry. I would never be with you."

"Shut up! If I can't have you...no one will." He stalked towards her threateningly and Molly grabbed a glass beaker from out of his sight, ready to defend herself.

When Phillip got close enough, she dodged the blade and smashed the glass beaker against his hand which made the weapon clatter on the ground and skitter across the floor. He was stunned momentarily and Molly took advantage of it. She thrust her palm forward to his face, breaking his nose with a sickening crunch and her knee connected to his groin.

Screams filled Molly's ears as Phillip fell to the ground, but she kept a defensive position, ready to fend off any more attacks.

In that instant, Sherlock pushed open the doors to the pathology lab in an air of urgency. "What the hell?!" His eyes took in the scene before him and he was immediately on alert. Phillip staggered to his feet, but before he could do anything, Sherlock slammed his elbow against the surgeon's head. When he fell to the ground again, this time, he didn't move.

A ragged sigh escaped Molly's lips and she slid to the floor in relief. Sherlock rushed over to her and touched her leg. "He cut you." His voice was full of fear and anger as he eyed the wound.

"I-it's not bad. I may need a few stitches, but it isn't very deep."

Sherlock said nothing, opting instead to remove his bel staff and then, his fingers began unbuttoning the white shirt he'd worn underneath the coat. Molly stared as her boyfriend took off his shirt and wrapped it around her leg to staunch the blood flow.

Once the fabric was in place and tightly secured around her injury, Sherlock pulled out his mobile and called the police to inform them of an attack. While he spoke to whoever was on the other end of his cell, Molly licked her lips as the muscles on his arms flexed.

His upper torso was more toned and made the dusting of hair on his chest look incredibly sexy. Sherlock must have been working out to attain a look like that. He'd always been in shape, but this was something else. There was even a bit of colour to his normally pale skin, leaving Molly to wonder when he found the opportunity to get a tan.

This was hardly an appropriate moment for her to ogle Sherlock, but Molly couldn't help admiring his attractive form.

Sherlock's call was brief and he hung up his mobile, took out a pair of handcuffs from his bel staff and put them on Phillip's wrists. After that was taken care of, he bent down to Molly again. "The police will be here soon."

"Good."

He glanced down at her leg. "You said you'd need stitches, so we should get to an operating theatre. Do you need help getting up?"

"Ah, yes, please." Molly held out her hand and Sherlock took it, pulling her up carefully so when she stood, she was leaning against him.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They walked out of the pathology lab slowly, but Molly stumbled a bit. Sherlock caught her and stopped her from falling. Without a moment's hesitation, he picked her up and carried her to an empty room. He set her on the bed and went in search of rubbing alcohol, gauze, a needle and thread.

As he found each item, Molly looked at his back. There were faded scars from when he'd been undercover in Serbia and experienced severe beatings at the hands of his captors. Seeing those scars made Molly's heart hurt and when Sherlock turned around, he could see the pain all over her face.

"It was a long time ago, Molly. I've all but forgotten it."

"Sherlock..."

"Your leg is more important."

Molly noticed how his hands shook when he unwrapped her wound. Silently, he began to work on the injury, cleaning the cut up as efficiently as possible and then, stitching it carefully. Once Sherlock finished, he put everything up and washed his hands off in the sink just outside the room.

Then, he came back and gathered Molly in his arms, holding her close. "God, Molly. He could have killed you."

"Nonsense. I know how to take care of myself. I incapacitated him."

"But he still cut you. What if you hadn't been able to defend yourself in time? I could have lost you." Those last two words came out strangled and Sherlock began to sob, clinging to Molly like a lifeline. It was a bit of a shock to see him be so vulnerable with her, but she knew why her being in danger had affected him in such a way.

Four months had passed since Sherrinford and Sherlock and Molly managed to move on from it, gradually becoming quite close. They still hadn't made love, but Sherlock would often sleep over at Molly's flat when he didn't want to be alone.

Some of those nights, he'd experience night terrors and dream about Molly's flat blowing up in a scenario where he hadn't been able to save her. Those were the times she caught glimpses of the turmoil he went through at Sherrinford and her heart ached for him. Now, Molly saw that fear up close and felt it in his body.

He knew that she was safe in real life, in the here and now, but for a moment when Molly's well being was compromised, Sherlock found himself back in that room again, pleading with her to pick up the phone.

"Shh. Sherlock, look at me." Molly took his face in her hands and kissed him softly. "You didn't lose me. You will never lose me, okay? You're not at Sherrinford anymore. I'm real and I'm right here, love. I'm ever here."

"Okay," he whispered back, a bit of his anxiety seeming to evaporate.

Molly knew that nothing else needed to be said and she just rocked him back and forth. He held his forehead to hers with such force that she began to feel pain, but he needed her right now and she was going to be there for him no matter what.