Justice, by chibiness87
Rating: M (for safety, possibly just a high T. Language/theme/abuse trigger warning)
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to other, much more talented people than me.

A/N: So I started writing a new chapter for Love is a Battlefield. But then I got this earworm, and it would NOT leave me alone until I had it written it. So now I fear this too will become a WIP, which is really not useful when I already have one on the go, and have 2 6000 word essays to write!


If John hadn't been standing by the door, he doubted he would have heard the knock, such was the quiet, timid quality of it. He had almost thought he has imagined it until he heard it again. Pulling the door open slightly, he had then all but slammed it open against the wall with a gasp when he recognised the small form crumpled on the doorstep. With infinite care, he hunkered down to her eyelevel. "Molly?"

At the sound of his voice, she raised her head slightly, and John was met with the sight of her beaten, bruised face. "Oh my…" He turned, yelling his friends name into the house. "SHERLOCK!"

John turned back to the small, cowed form, reaching for her, only to pull his hand back when she shied away from him with a moan. "Molly, hey, can you hear me? It's John."

The clattering of the stairs foretold him of his friend's arrival. "John? What's…?" He stopped suddenly as John moved away slightly, allowing Sherlock to see what held his attention so. Sherlock gasped. "Molly?"

At the sound of his voice, Molly finally seemed to show some sort of recognition. "Sherlock?"

With the most care he had ever seen his friend show anyone, Sherlock knelt down, bringing his eyelevel to match hers. "Yeah, Molly. It's me."

Her eyes welled with tears, and Molly all but fell into his embrace. John watched as Sherlock gently wrapped his arms around her slim form, cradling her gently against his body. After a moment which seemed to last hours, Sherlock bent his head, whispering into her ear. Whatever had been said seemed to calm her, as Molly nodded, before she lifted her own arm up until her hand circled his neck. Carefully, Sherlock stood, Molly now held in his arms. With a nod, John followed them as he carried their friend upstairs back into their flat.

Moving to the sofa, Sherlock attempted to settle her, but her arm kept a tight grasp on his neck, and so Sherlock settled on the seat cushions, Molly now seated in his lap. John came over to them both, concern etched on his face. He knelt down, once again reached his arm forward, glad when this time she did not pull away from him.

"Can I see?"

With her eyes closed against Sherlock's shoulder, Molly gave a small nod. Instead of raising her head so he could see the more obvious injuries, however, Molly pulled the edge of her oversized jumper up, exposing her lower abdomen. The mottling of bruises, some a deep purple, others a more sickening green/yellow hue, told their own story.

John swore, his eyes flying up to meet those of his friend. If John's eyes were stormy, it was nothing to what was showing in Sherlock's eyes as he too took in the bruising. The cold, dead look in his eyes made a shiver run down his spine.

John was angry, yes. But Sherlock?

Sherlock was positively furious.

John clenched his hand into a fist. "I'm going to fucking kill him."

"No. You won't." This came from the small frame still huddled tightly to Sherlock's chest.

Before either of them could ask, Molly raised her head, meeting both of their gazes with a defiant one of her own.

It was Sherlock who broke the tense silence that had fallen over them with her declaration, wariness in his tone. "Molly?"

"You won't kill him," she stated again, "because I already have."


TBC

Thoughts?