Start A Riot, a sherlock fanfic

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC and the song 'Start A Riot' by BANNERS.

I will march down an empty street like a ship into the storm
No surrender, no retreat
I will tear down every wall
Just to keep you warm
Just to bring you home

I will burn this city down for a diamond in the dust
I will keep you safe and sound when there's no one left to trust
Will you take my hand?
We can make our stand

What would you do on the night before you leave? Bid farewell to your loved ones? And Sherlock Holmes found himself standing at the door of Molly Hooper's flat. When was the last time he knocked on her door? The consulting detective was so used to entering her flat via the window that she always forgotten to lock but Sherlock wanted to do things differently today. He wanted to know how it feels like to be normal, human even.

"A minute!" The pathologist shouted from across the kitchen and Sherlock recorded her domestic tone, saving it in his mind palace. Tonight, the consulting detective would have a lot of memory files to save for future recollections, no matter how short his future would be, six months according to Mycroft, once the death exile commences. The consulting detective thought he would remain calm after seeing Molly but Sherlock also thought that he would never fall in love.

"You-" Whatever the pathologist was going to say or do, probably another round of scolding and/or slapping, Sherlock beat her to it. "Did you really mean it, Molly? That if there's anything you could do, anything I need, anything at all, I could have you?" The anger in her eyes was quickly replaced with concern and fear. "Sherlock…" The consulting detective once again interrupted her. "Ask me what I need, Molly."

If your world falls apart
I'd start a riot
If night falls in your heart
I'd light the fire
In the dark, when you sound the alarm
We'll find each other's arms
For your love, all you are
I'd start a riot

Confused, she was pulled into his arms. "W-what did you do this time, Sherlock? Stop scaring me like this and tell me the truth! Sherlock!" Molly tried to take a better look at him but the consulting detective refused to release her. "You. I need you, Molly." He did not answer her question for there's no point in it. Sherlock made his choice and the consequences of his actions must be faced.

"No, Sherlock. No…" The sinking feeling in her stomach was too much to be ignored. It sounded like his final words and Molly started to cry even though she was not sure as to what was going on but it must be very bad for him because Sherlock is saying goodbye to her. He never does that. Unable to accept the truth that was becoming clearer and clearer to her every passing second, all Molly could do was to hold onto him and never let go.

One arm still tightly embracing the pathologist, he lifted her face from his chest and began to kiss Molly's tears away which just made her cry even more so Sherlock decided to focus all of his attention on her lips. If he had more time, the consulting detective would tell Molly that her lips are not too small, instead they are perfect; it was only a jealous and senseless comment from him because he thought that Molly's present was for someone else but Sherlock was running out of time.

I will wade through the fire and smoke like sunlight through the haze
I will fight till the flag waves white until my dying days
Through the bombs and blasts
We will take it back

She returned the kiss with the same passion and perhaps with the same hint of despair. The consulting detective carried Molly to her bed and blinked away his own tears. Sherlock needed to see for himself how beautiful she would look when he made love to her. When Sherlock entered her, when she moved in-sync with him, when he repeatedly made Molly screamed with pleasure, when she reached her climax multiple times. The consulting detective would remember them all. Sherlock would never forget her.

Morning eventually arrived and it was time for him to leave London, to leave his pathologist. With a kiss to Molly's forehead, the consulting detective left but not before wishing that she would never forget him too. Love is selfish, after all.

Even dead, the consulting criminal could still inflict damage. Waking up from his drug-induced sleep, Sherlock pushed Mycroft away and rushed out of the plane. "Give me your gun. Now." The bodyguard merely frowned at him. "Well, don't say I didn't ask you nicely in the first place." He slammed the bodyguard's head against the car door and grabbed the weapon then took off in the unmarked vehicle.

After opening Sherlock's notebook, the British Government immediately sent the task team to St. Bart's. In it, the pathologist's name was written and underlined. The consulting detective ran towards the morgue, last known location of Molly and for the first time, Sherlock hoped he was wrong.

I'd start, I'd start a riot
I'd start, I'd start a riot
I'd start, I'd start a riot
I'd start, I'd start a riot

"Molly!" She turned around, her eyes widened in surprise and a smile was forming at the sight of the consulting detective but a gun was raised and ready to fire at the pathologist. Gunshots were heard and the task team charged into the morgue. They scanned the place before declaring it safe. "Are you alright, Sherlock?" Looking at him, Molly asked worriedly

The consulting detective gave a small smile, "Trust you to ask me that when you were the one who was just attacked," and laced their fingers together, feeling the urgent need to touch her so he could reassure himself that Molly is indeed fine. Sherlock was almost too late. If he did hesitant in killing the assailant then the ending would be completely different but the consulting detective did not because Sherlock could not afford to lose Molly.

If your world falls apart
I'd start a riot

Author's note: I think it's safe to say that this is definitely less darker than 'Still Waiting'. Please enjoy and have a good weekend ahead :D