*Updated version - tried to sort out some mistakes*

Sherlock had ordered Molly to the lab, but on her way she has an accident. A car hit her and now she's laying in the hospital.

Lestrade orders Sherlock to the hospital and confronts him. Lestrade is (secretly) in love with Molly, which always had an crush on Sherlock, which is not interested at all. Lestrade sees Sherlock's fault in this accident.

Its a little FF with open end. Nobody is dying in this part, and if I ever will write on, I promise nobody of the main characters will. I am into the Molly/Lestrade (Molestrade) Ship and into the (platonic) relationship of Sherlock/Lestrade and I like the conflict of the fact, that Molly fancies Sherlock, and I am sure Lestrade (like everyone else) notice that, and he is dealing with it. So I had this idea of an accident bringing Sherlock and Lestrade together in this tense situation.

Lot of Angst and Drama. I love your reviews, and I am really sorry, that I am doing this to this beloved characters. English is not my native, so I am sure there are still some errors with the tenses and the grammar. Sorry for it- I gave my best. Looking for a BETA!

Sherlock and all the other belong to Sir Conan Doyle and the BBC.

The door to Lestrade's office opened suddenly without any knocking. He felt annoyed and was close to tell Donovan how dare she was, but when he saw her face, he knew something important was waiting for him.

"We have a car accident. Car against pedestrian. One person brought to the hospital. Condition unsure.", she rattled down in an informal voice.

He moved some papers around the table and shook his head. "That doesn't sound like a murder to me, Sally."

She bit nervously her lip, for a second unable to tell him more about.

"What is it then, Sally?!", he forced her harsh to go on.

"Its the Girl from the morgue, at St. Barth.", Greg's eyes flung open, and his stomach twitched, "Molly Hooper is hit by a car, down Giltspur Street one block away from St. Barth. She is now in the A&E."

"What...?", he managed to say in a whisper. The paper in his hands fell down to the floor, flying around for a second, before they settled somewhere on the ground.

Maybe ten seconds he just starred into the nothing, before the bad news seeped into his brain. Molly Hooper hit by a car, his Molly Hooper. He swallowed hard, shaking his head imperceptible, to force himself back to reality.

"What's with her? Is she okay?", he jumped up, to grab his coat.

"I don't no, only that she is in the A&E. The report said, the car hit her, while she was crossing a red light. So..." she didn't ended the sentence, Lestrade knew that this could only mean the accident was serious.

He turned around to look at the white board, filled with papers, phone numbers and duty schedules. It was Saturday and short before noon, out of regularity he knew it was not Molly's time to work, so he took a short glance onto the morgue schedule and his assumption was right. It was her day off. But obviously she was on her way to the lab, what could mean only one thing.

"I..I am going to the hospital, Sally.", his eyes wandered restless through the room, and he tried hard to sort his thoughts, "Stay here and hold position, yeah?! And do me a favor, try to get some material from the CCTV, will you?"

"But that's not our division..", she replied.

Lestrade stopped in front of her, and for a second she was afraid, he would scold her. Instead he just repeated almost softly. "Will you? Please?"

She nodded. "I send you a message to your mobile."

"Thanks.", with that he left the office and hurried to the staircase, down into the garage. The same time, he took his phone out of his pocket and dialed Sherlock's number. After two rings, the consulting detective picked up.

"Oh what is it this time, the yard can't handle, Detective Inspector?"

Lestrade ignored his sufficient tone and almost growled into his phone.

"Did you order Molly Hooper to the lab today?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"I ask again, did you order Molly Hooper to the lab, Sherlock?", he started the engine, and drove one hand on the phone, one hand on the wheel through the garage. Madness in his veins and anger in his voice.

There was a short silence in the phone, and Lestrade knew, that Sherlock had read his tone, and the urgency in it.

"Yes I have. I have an appointment with her in half an hour. In the morgue."

"No you don't", Greg hissed, "You have an appointment with me now. In the hospital."

"What's going on, Lestrade. would you mind telling me?", Sherlock's asked forcefully, unable to put the puzzle together.

"Molly Hooper is in the A&E, she's been hit by a car, half hour ago. So you better show up!", he clapped the phone and threw it to the passenger seat.

With immense speed the police car shot out the gate to the street. Without thinking if this was a proper situation, Lestrade turned on the siren and the lights. With luck, he would reach the hospital in just some minutes.

###

Sherlock clapped his phone. Grabbed his coat and scarf and hurried down to the door.

"Miss Hudson, I maybe won't be home tonight. Tell John, I am at the hospital.", he called out loud, without caring if she had heard him or not. The door went shut behind him with a bang, when he stepped outside to look impatiently for a cab.

Earlier this day, he had called Molly to ask her, if she could come to the lab. For an experiment. He needed two dead bodies and some blood examples. She had told him, that it was her day off, and so she didn't wanted to come.

'Oh come on, Molly, what you going to do on your free day, except hanging out with your couch and your cat?! Or do you expect your boyfriend this weekend?'

He had teased her, and after this comment she had accepted to come. Now it appeared to him, how rude he was saying that. She had promised to be there at half past 12 to give him all the things he would need.

After a cab finally stopped at his site he jumped in and harshly ordered the driver to the hospital.

###

When Greg entered the A&E, he ran to the reception for information.

"How can I help you, Sir?", the nurse asked.

"I am DI Lestrade, from the yard.", he showed her his ID, "You have a woman here. Molly Hooper. She had a car accident as I know. I need to see her!"

The nurse checked her papers. "Oh yes.. here it is..Sorry, that's not possible."

"What? What do you mean?", Lestrade now awaited the worst.

"She is in the OR right now. That's why. I am sorry you have to wait."

"How bad is it?", a known voice behind Lestrade asked vigorously. The DI turned around. Sherlock.

The nurse gave Lestrade a short questioning look about the tall, black curled brunet.

"Its okay, he is with me.", he just said, "So how bad is it?"

"I can't tell you. She is in the OR, she got multiple fractions as I know. Possible massive head trauma. That's all I know. The doctor will tell you how she is, as soon as possible.", Greg and Sherlock both opened they mouth to say something, but the woman just silenced them, "I promise, okay!? So long, gentleman, you can take a seat in the waiting area.", and with that, she went on.

Lestrade followed her with his eyes. He could feel his anger and his frustration rise. How he could wait here, while she was in the OR, alone? He was dealing so hart with the situation that his lower jaw began to tremble.

"I know you a man of action, Lestrade, but we just have to wait." Sherlock read his thoughts, and that brought Lestrade over the cliff.

"Damn!", his flat hand hit the reception counter loud and hart. Even Sherlock flinched back an inch.

"How the hell, could that happen?!", he stirred at Sherlock, his brown eyes filled with anger.

Sherlock's forehead frowned. As he realized that some people on the floor gave interrogative looks to them, he gestured him down the floor to the waiting room. In the first moment Lestrade didn't understood why Sherlock just walked by, but after the Consulting Detective had stopped and turned around again, to show him the door, he became aware, that it might wasn't a good idea to discuss the situation in public.

Nobody else was in the room, it was filled with some chairs and two sofas, a water dispenser and two crappy looking plants. Sherlock walked up to the water dispenser and filled one of the plastic cups with water to held it in front of Lestrade.

"I am not thirsty.", he replied cold.

"The colour of your face is more red as usual. What means two things. You are; first angry, but second you are thirsty too, because you are licking your lips, all the time. They are dry. You are thirsty. So drink.", he still held the water in front of him, his other hand behind his back.

Lestrade wanted to tell him, how he hated it, when Sherlock did this to him. Deducing things out of his behavior, his knitted shirt, his haircut or some lint on his coat. Instead he swallowed his anger for the moment and grabbed the cup to drank it empty in one gulp. In fact, the water felt good. It cleared his mind, freshened his body a little. So he filled up another cup and emptied that one half.

"So you are angry.", Sherlock began after he had watched him drinking.

"Yes.", he hissed through is teeth.

"Why?"

"Why?!", he called out horrified.

Sherlock rose an eyebrow at him. "You are not angry, because of Molly's accident, are you? You are shocked about it. But you are angry because of something else."

Lestrade's breathing quickened.

"Yes, I am shocked! And I really wish, you would be too. Because, right now, I have the feeling, you don't care, Sherlock!"

"I care."

"Do you?", he asked rapidly .

"Why you assume I don't?", Sherlock asked back, and Lestrade had the feeling that he could hear some tiny emotion out of his speak.

"Because you stand there, cold as ice. With monotone voice."

"At least, one should keep fixed.", he walked over to the window to hide is emotion from Lestrade.

"What do you want to say with that? One should keep fixed?", Lestrade felt the urgent need to hit Sherlock till his mouth would spit out words with more sense.

"You seem agitated, Detective Inspector. And if you agitated like that, you can't be fixed on facts.", Sherlock's eyes flickered around on the street, searching for a point to hold on, but he couldn't find one. Then he eyed Lestrade reflection in the glass. His clenched fist, an obvious sign of rage.

"Facts?", Lestrade loosened his fist and shoved his hands through his hair down to his neck, grabbing it to press his fingers deep into his own flesh. Till he felt pain.

"I tell you the facts, Sherlock! Only one fact: You have ordered Molly Hooper to the morgue.", he knew Sherlock would now set the puzzle together without any further information.

He glanced over his shoulders to Greg, without turning around. He knew, what the policeman wanted to say with that.

"You think its my fault."

"Of course it is!", he blurred out.

The sentence was already on his tongue before Sherlock had answered to his words. The bitterness in Lestrade's words, brought Sherlock back to him, and away from the window.

"I asked her to help me. She agreed. We made an appointment. That's it. Its not the first time I asked her for help.", Sherlock's voice became more edgy, and his mimic lost his coolness, "I didn't – drive - the - car, that hit her, Lestrade!"

"Oh.. you just asked her?!", he said sarcastically while throwing his hands into the air, "And straight out, she said yes. On her day off. Just like that.."

Sherlock tried to read his mimic but he was unable to tell which way Lestrade was going with him.

"Yes!"

"And you knew that!", Lestrade made one step toward him, and both men now were only separated an half meter or so.

"What did I knew?"

"You knew, she would say yes. Even on her free day, you knew exactly what to say to her, that she would come to the morgue to help you. Because you know how to manipulate people.", he almost whispered the last part to Sherlock.

The words hit Sherlock harder than he thought. He leaned away from Lestrade, turning his face away to stare to one of the plants. He swallowed hard, then walked over to the dispenser and filled himself a cup. Lestrade followed him with his eyes like a dangerous animal. Ready to jump him and tear him apart any second.

Greg gave him the time of a half cup before he called out. "Answer me!"

"You didn't asked a question."

"Answer me!", he yelled.

Sherlock was not a man of fright, but in this case, his friend Greg Lestrade became so furious, so full of rage that Sherlock felt a slight fear crawling up his spine.

"I repeat; I asked her and she said yes, and I am not the driver of the car.", he tried to stay by facts, even if this would made Greg even more angry.

For maybe a half minute the both men, just starred at each other. Estimating the other one. Greg fighting with his inner feelings, his love, his anger, his fear. Sherlock trying to figure out why Greg was so sensible and if he might had act wrong by forcing Molly to help him.

The DI twitched an inch toward Sherlock, and so he flinched back. Now he knew, Sherlock was afraid of him.

"She has a crush on you, and you know that. That's why she is doing all this for you.", Lestrade took a step back, watching Sherlock's figure in disgust. Then it was him, who walked over to the window.

"I remember, the Christmas eve, how you have threatened her. Like she was dirt under your feet. She was crying, secretly, what you do not know, because you give a fucking shit about her."

Sherlock raised his head, considering Lestrade's back. Now it started to make sense. His mind sorted the puzzles in a new order, and a picture appeared in his head. Sherlock inhaled deep when the solution hit him.

"But you do.", he slowly groped his way, "You care about her."

Lestrade's eyes fell shut, and the pictures of Molly flooded his weak and tired mind. He could feel tears rising.

"You love her...", it sounded more skeptic as he had intended. The situation was the same, but the point of view had changed savagely. Sherlock's gaze wandered back to the plant while Lestrade turned around, wiping some tears away.

"Yes.", he muttered, "But she loves you."

Sherlock's look flickered back to Lestrade. "I didn't know.. that you love her."

Greg just shrugged. "It is not an important fact for you. You don't need it for a case..so..", he grabbed his cup and emptied it, "If she dies, I swear I .. you never will be happy any more. I will make sure of that."

Sherlock lowered himself down to the sofa.

"If she dies, I never will forgive myself."

He watched Greg a while, he could read in his face and his gesturing how troubled he was, and he couldn't understand how much he had failed in the fact, that he hadn't seen that Lestrade was secretly in love with Molly. He, who could read in everything to see everything. He searched in his Mind Palace for some situations from old days. When all three, were together in the morgue. He must have seen it. But he hadn't. A short dry laugh escaped his throat when he realized his reasons.

Lestrade looked over to him, curious, but he kept quiet. Sherlock raised his head, to meet his eyes with his.

"You think I don't care, but I do. I haven't seen your feelings for her, because.. ", he made a pause, opening up so much, was a new territory for him, "I wanted her to be mine.", Lestrade's eyes widened, "Not in any romantic way! I am not interested in her as my... girlfriend. She works with me. Perfectly. She does everything for me, because she... loves me. What is an advantage of course. But only for me. And even if I do not love her, I have to admit now, I feel good with it."

Lestrade thought about Sherlock's words for a second, then he spat out a sound that should be laugh.

"You sound like a Caesar who only can live a happy life, when his people honour him and fancy him. The truth is, you need Molly to feel good, to feel needed and loved. And instead loving her back – even only as a friend, you treat her like your personal servant. With your arrogance and egocentric you do as if you would be higher than all the others. Like me, like John, like Molly. Its you above us all, the peasants who should be proud serving your intelligence."

Sherlock didn't know what to say, he only would make Lestrade's wound deeper, so he kept quiet and waited for him to go on with his speech.

"One day, I stood in the morgue, a while after the Christmas incident, watching her work. She was humming along an odd song out of the radio. And I realized every time I was around her, I felt happy. I felt good, and at ease. And then I became aware, that I might have fallen in love with her.", he kneaded his own hands, "But I was still married, unhappily, but I was. So I tried to fight down the feeling.", he gave Sherlock a look, "Then each time, when you and me went to the morgue, I saw her, and how you treated her. How you played your cards, how you pushed her buttons and it made me angry. That you used her for your advantage. We both know, that she was aware of that. She knew, that she only was your instrument. Why your are doing this all for him, Molly? I asked her once, Him who is treating you so badly."

"What did she answer?", Sherlock turned around from the window and asked after Lestrade had kept quite for some seconds.

"He is a good man, he is doing good things, in a different way. We have to accept that. His maybe rude manners, and his unusual doings, serving a better world. I think we have to look behind.", Greg chuckled about the memory of the day she had told him this, "I couldn't even answer back. I know you for a while now, and I said something like that once myself. You are a good man. But when you love someone, the angle changes."

"You are divorced since a year, did you ever..?"

"No.", he just said.

"Why not?"

"Its you she loves. You are her fairytale, Sherlock. She sees me as a colleague, with luck as a friend. But its you she always will love."

"She loves somebody who doesn't exist, you know that, Lestrade.", Sherlock stepped toward his friend, "You said it; I am a fairytale. That doesn't exist."

"So what!?" Lestrade yelled, "I could make this world upside down, it will always be you!"

Sherlock starred at him, unable to react to his accuse.

"It would be me against you, and that's not what I want. I won't fight against you, Sherlock. Not because I properly not will win this fight, I just don't want to spend my time fighting against someone else, instead giving my time to her. It should be her and me, and not you and me. But that would be it. In the end, nobody would be happy, and so, at least she is happy, because she adores you, and you are happy, because she does what ever you want."

"You stay unhappy behind."

Lestrade shrugged. Shaking his head slightly. "I have this feelings from afar for month now! I arranged myself with it. She is happy around you, so I am happy. And there still times, I have with her, without you. And that's enough for me."

"An impersonated sacrifice.", he said it in a tone, like Sherlock talked to Anderson on a crime scene.

"No sacrifice. Just a point. A fact.", Greg pointed with his finger at him, like warning, "And I remember you again, if she dies, you never will see a crime scene from the close. And then we can talk about sacrifice again!"

Thats the end. I am not sure if I will write another chapter because I am dealing with my English here- what is not my native - and I have the feeling I can't express my feelings the way I want. I hope you liked it. Leave reviews! Take care!