This is my first fanfic for Sherlock, so please, be gentle in the comments, please! This is a really long one-shot. A really long one-shot.
Summary: What happens when Moriarity's games with fairy tales somehow involve Molly? And how will Sherlock react to this choice of fairy tale?
A/N: I tried to keep everyone in character. I tried. Please R&R!
Sleeping Beauty
John sat at his laptop, once again typing on his blog. Sherlock was pacing endlessly across the room, muttering silently to himself.
They hadn't had a case in what seemed like months for the sociopath. John had hid his pistol, so no bullet holes in the wallpaper for Ms. Hudson to fuss about.
John had tried to type out the inevitable boredom that seemed to hover in clouds over the room.
So, it was expectable for both of them to jump in excitement when Sherlock's phone chirped with an incoming message.
Sherlock dived for the phone, and selected the message. John sat, staring at him, and finally said, "What is it?"
Sherlock stood there silently for a bit, and John thought, "Yep, he's catatonic. I've got to put that on the blog."
Sherlock stood there, and finally said, "Moriarity. He's got Molly."
John ran to the coat rack, and grabbed his coat, then threw Sherlock's to him.
John walked towards the door, then hesitated, noticing that Sherlock was still standing there, holding his coat. John walked back in front of him, and waved his hand in front of his face. "Hello?" he said.
Sherlock stared at his feet, then seemed to snap out of some strange tangent. "What?" he said, as if nothing happened, then grabbed his scarf.
John shrugged and followed him out the door.
After several moments of silence in the cab, John said, "So, what did the message say?" Sherlock paused, then silently handed his phone over to John.
John scrolled through recent messages, then selected the message. He read aloud, "Hello Prince Charming, come find your Sleeping Beauty. -Guess Who"
John switched off Sherlock's phone, then said, "How did you know that Sleeping Beauty meant Molly?"
Sherlock didn't answer. John, realizing that he had hit somewhat of a sensitive spot, just handed him his phone. Sherlock took the phone, and stuffed it back in his pocket.
The cab pulled up to Molly's flat, John tipped the cabby, and they both walked up to the door. Sherlock experimentally pressed Molly's doorbell. When no-one answered, he pressed the doorbell above Molly's. A soft female's voice warbled through the intercom, "Hello?"
Sherlock spoke into the camera, "Hello, I'm a close friend of Molly's, and I would like to know whether she's been home!"
The voice thought for a second, then said, "No, no-one's been in that flat for a while. Would you like to come up to check things out?"
Sherlock suppressed a cry of victory, and said, "Thank you! That would be marvelous!"
The door unlocked with a clunk, and Sherlock pushed it open.
John followed him up the stairs, and through the door of Molly's flat.
Sherlock took one look at the place, and it was automatically confirmed; Molly had not occupied this flat in at least a week.
Her cat, Toby, pawed from around the couch, and meowed pitifully. Sherlock absentmindedly picked him up, and started to stroke his back.
John tried to deduce anything from this organized chaos, but he just asked, "See anything?"
Sherlock muttered a few deductions under his breath, still stroking Toby.
John shrugged, then worked his way over to the kitchen, where he found a can of tuna for Toby. He pried open the lid, and set it on the ground.
Smelling food, Toby leaped out of Sherlock's arms, and ran to the tuna can.
Sherlock stared at the flat for a while longer, then suddenly said, "I've got everything that I need." and left the flat.
John sighed, petted Toby one last time, then followed Sherlock out the door.
Back on Baker Street, Sherlock had pinned up a maze of papers and maps and pictures to the wall.
John was sitting on his laptop, typing up the beginnings of a blog post documenting their most recent mis-adventure, and the sound of the keys was getting on Sherlock's nerves.
"Can. You. Not. Type. For. ONE. SECOND. PLEASE!" he yelled.
John paused, then shut his laptop, and asked, "What's the matter?"
Sherlock thought for a second, then said, "What does it feel like?"
John frowned, and said, "Why do you answer all of my questions with another question?"
Sherlock ignored this, and asked agian, "What does it feel like?"
John sighed, and said patiently, "What does what feel like?"
Sherlock paused, then said, "Losing someone. Someone close."
John thought for a second, then said, "And I'm assuming Molly Hooper is someone close?"
Sherlock growled, "Shut up."
John smiled, and said, "Losing someone is like a hole. Like there's something missing."
Sherlock nodded, then scribbled something on a piece of paper, then pinned it to the wall.
John wasn't an expert at deduction, but he could tell something was bothering him. He turned and said, "What's on your mind?"
Sherlock bit his cheek as he thought of something nasty to say back, but he said instead, surprised at his weakness, "What if I can't do it?"
John screwed up his face, and said, "What? What do you mean 'What if I can't do it?' You're Sherlock Holmes!"
Sherlock said, "But what if this is the case that stumps me? The one case that I can't solve? The one case that has Molly's life on the line... is the one case that I can't solve? What if I can't?"
John shook his head, and said in all honesty, "I don't know."
"St. Bart's!" Sherlock yelled, jerking John from his nap.
John rubbed his eyes, then sleepily said, "What?"
Sherlock openly rolled his eyes, and said, "St. Bart's!"
John, still confused, said, "What?"
Sherlock grabbed a copy a Grimm's Fairy Tales from one of the many desks, and turned to Sleeping Beauty.
"You see, in the fairy tale, the princess, in this case Molly, was put to sleep in her castle, along with all of the servants, and the rest of the royal family. The proverbial castle is in this case St. Bart's!" Sherlock said.
John smiled, and said, "You woke me up to tell me that?" Sherlock just shrugged, and scribbled something on one of the many pieces of paper on the wall.
John was about to lie back down on the couch, when Sherlock threw him his coat, and pulled on his own. John sighed, and said, "All I wanted was a nap."
He followed Sherlock out of the flat, and stepped into the cab that he had just flagged down. "Where are we going?" he said, still a little groggy.
"St. Bart's." Sherlock said.
After falling asleep in the cab fifteen times, John was shook awake again by Sherlock. "WHAT!" John yelled, glaring at Sherlock.
"We're here." Sherlock said, opening the cab door and stepping out.
John growled, and stepped out of the cab.
They walked up to the doors of the hospital, and John could see that Sherlock was making deductions about the building.
John was about to push open the door when one small detail from the fairy tale that they hadn't noticed before hit him between the eyes.
"Uh, Sherlock, remember what the prince had to do to get to the castle?" he said, nervously.
Sherlock swore under his breath.
A few moments later, a couple dozen members of a terrorist group that liked to call their members "Dragons" lay unconscious on the ground.
John was busy stuffing them all down an open manhole when he realized that Sherlock had already gone inside the hospital.
He stuffed one last terrorist down the manhole, then walked up to the door, grumbling under his breath, "Every ruddy time. Every single ruddy time."
They walked to the receptionist's desk, and saw the receptionist fast asleep behind the counter.
Sherlock vaulted over the desk, then investigated the area around her. John waited for him to finish, and when he lifted his head up from inspecting the floor, John asked, "So, what's the conclusion?"
Sherlock folded up his magnifying glass, and said, "Nearly one week. Just as long as Molly's flat had been abandoned for."
John clapped his hands and said, "Uh, Sherlock that's really interesting, but I think we should leave."
Sherlock just ignored him, and walked through the door to the morgue.
John crossed his arms and said, "Heaven forbid I ever get a decent nap..."
They entered the morgue, and saw that all of the lights had been shut off, leaving one on in the center of the room, casting a lone spotlight on the table underneath.
Sherlock noticed a small body laid on the table, covered in a large sheet.
John walked forward and pulled the sheet off the body, revealing the sleeping form of Molly Hooper.
Sherlock ran to the side of the autopsy table, and leaned over her.
"Well, you know how the story goes, Sherlock," said an oddly familiar voice from behind John in the hallway.
Sherlock paused, and slowly said, "This can't be your only plot for this fairy tale."
Moriarity stepped out of the hallway, hands in his pockets, and said, "Well, you know I'm an enormous romantic, and I know I'm not the only one who sees both of you staring into each other's eyes... It's insane."
John almost stifled a laugh, but Moriarity heard it anyway, and in a flash, pulled out a pistol, yanked John by the ear to his side, holding the pistol to John's head.
Sherlock jumped, and almost ran to him, but Moriarity clicked his tonue, and brandished the gun.
"Bad idea, Sherlock. You don't want to spoil the story, do you? You see, Prince Charming, you've got to finish the story, or your friend here is going to find himself splattered across this room; a little bit of him over here, a little bit over there, and just a little bit waaaay over there..." Moriarity taunted, smiling.
Sherlock stood staring at the gun pointed at John's head, then entered his Mind Palace for a second.
He was standing in Molly's morgue, talking to his Mind Palace Molly.
Even though she didn't say a word, her silence spoke volumes. He filled in the silence with her voice; "Sherlock, you've got to. He's going to kill John if you don't. But I understand if you don't want to. I mean, I'm not assuming anything, but remember what I said. I'll always be there if you, like, need to talk. You can have me! I'm sorry."
In his Mind Palace, Sherlock cupped Molly's cheek in his hand, and said, "Molly, I've always had you. Even when I've been an enormous git, you've been there. It's the last I could do to do the same for once."
Sherlock exited his Mind Palace, and slowly walked forward to the autopsy table. Moriarity smiled as Sherlock leaned down, and pressed his lips against Molly's cold ones, and John was surprised to see that Sherlock actually relished the taste of her lips, and didn't automatically pull away when it was finished.
Moriarity laughed, and said, "You didn't actually think that it would be that easy! You were wrong Sherlock, you are ordinary! Now I've got my kiss, and I'm just going to have to kill all of you, starting with lovely little Sleeping Beauty here."
Moriarity threw John to the floor, then held the gun to Molly's head.
Suddenly, Molly exploded into consciousness, slamming Moriarity's hand into the table, and thoroughy scared the crap out of John.
Sherlock smiled at Molly, and John grabbed the side of a nearby autopsy table for support.
Molly returned Sherlock's smile, and felt Moriarity try to twist out of her grasp. She wrenched the pistol out of his hand, and pressed it against his head. "Make one move, I dare you!" she yelled, brandishing the gun.
Lestrade burst into the room, startling John again. "We came as soon as we heard your call!" he said, clapping a pair of handcuffs on Moriarity's wrists.
Sherlock, for once, wasn't listening. He strode over to Molly, who was slowly blinking her eyes, fighting the amnesia in her system. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and said in an undertone, "I'm sorry, Molly."
Molly lowered her hands, turned to him, and said, "Sherlock, Moriarity did this to me because he knew that I was important to you. If that's the reason why I was subjected to this, then I'm fine."
Sherlock thought something he had never thought before. He mentally shook his head, pulled up the collar of his jacket, and strode out the door.
Molly wistfully stared after him, then turned back to Sally's questions. "No, I was not aware that I was being drugged." she droned.
John typed the last sentence of his latest blog post, then shut his laptop. He sighed, remembering the words; "And as Sherlock turned up his collar, and walked away from her, I could have sworn I heard Moriarity say, 'I guess some fairy tales don't have happy endings.'"
Sherlock paced through the kitchen, then into the sitting room, then back into the kitchen. John spun around in his chair, and said, "What is it now?" Sherlock waved his hand, and said, "It's nothing. Another case."
John marched over to Sherlock, who had stopped to examine his skull on the mantelpiece, grabbed his shoulders, and said, "Go find Molly."
Sherlock waved his hand, and said, "We already found her, remember?"
Suddenly, John slapped Sherlock across the face, and said, "She was almost in tears when you- you just- just WALKED AWAY! YOU GIT!"
John let go of his shoulders, and said, "You don't do that with women. She's special to you. I don't know what you were thinking, Sherlock!"
Sherlock slumped down on his chair, and said, "I thought of doing something! But I can't! I just can't!"
He sunk his face into his hands, and said, "She is special. I was terrified when Moriarity found out about Molly. Now Molly's in danger, and it's all my fault. How did he find out? How? Molly will never be safe now! I'll never be able to... keep her safe."
John placed his hand on Sherlock's now-heaving shoulder, and said, "Go."
Molly was replacing some vials and beakers when Sherlock slowly opened the doors to her morgue. She automatically noticed his stride was seriously slower than usual. She carefully walked towards him, and said softly, "What's wrong?"
Sherlock tried to hide his face, but Molly said, "Remember what I said; about being sad when you think no-one sees."
He faced her, and said, "Molly I can't do that anymore, then I'd be lying to myself. You see, I can never be sure no-one can see it. You always see."
Molly laughed sadly and said, "Remember, I don't count."
Sherlock stepped towards her, and said softly, "You've always counted. You've always counted to me. I've always needed you. And you've always been there."
Molly smiled, and closed what little distance they had between them. Not sure what to do, she wrapped her arms around his torso, and whispered into his shoulder, "What's the matter?"
Sherlock carefully held her to his chest, and said, "Moriarity knows how important you are, you're in danger, and it's all my fault."
Molly pressed her index finger to his lips, and said, "I'll be fine. I've got you to protect me."
Sherlock started to speak, then Molly pressed her lips against his.
He stood there, softly kissing Molly Hooper.
Meanwhile, in the security station of St. Bart's Hospital, Anderson watched the cameras from the morgue with great excitment.
"I knew it! I've got to show this tape to Lestrade!"
A/N: I wonder... What if Anderson was the first Sherlolly Fanfiction writer? Hope you enjoyed the story! Please R&R!