WHO'S MOLLY?

AN: Not beta-ed. Sorry in advance for any mistakes. English is my second language. Still, I do hope you will enjoy the story and maybe leave a (constructive) review.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, just having fun with them.

Chapter 1 Coming?

The door swung open and a voice like a lash sounded through the quit room.

"Molly Hooper, you must come with me immediately".

It definitively sounded like an order.

Molly startled and looked up from her work. She just finished scrubbing the exam table and was about to stand up again. She always leaned over to do the cleaning not bothering to walk around and do it that way. She stretched her back and looked at to the door where the man who had spoken to her stood.

At the back of the room Sherlock and John were busy with something. In fact, Sherlock was looking through a microscope at something on a petri-dish and John was standing next to him, sometimes assisting him by giving him stuff Sherlock required. They also looked up from their research and watched the man who was standing in the door. Sherlock immediately deduced the man. The man was young, somewhere in his thirties. He had sideburns, brown hair which was standing up, probably because of the wax in it. He were a blue shirt, a tie, a striped brown suit, a trench coat, and sneakers. The suit looked a little crumpled, the shoes looked that they were accustomed to a lot of running and the coat seemed to be a little over the top. But then again, he self was wearing a long coat, a deduction unnecessary, not applicable, delete! He couldn't see the man's eyes. The distance was too far. The deduction hadn't taken more than a few seconds. Sherlock stood up from the desk and walked over to Molly. Whoever that man was, he wanted Molly. He must protect her, especially after all the things Molly had done for him. So Sherlock took a stand right next to Molly. John also walked over to Molly and stood at her left side. There they stood. Right beside Molly as if to protect her from harm.

Molly noticed both men standing beside her. She noticed their behaviour and a warm feeling inside her body spread through her. She never thought that there would be a man who would be chivalrous enough to stand up to the threats, she Molly, had to face. Now there were two man standing next to her. Protecting her if need to be. Probably would kill for her if necessary (although she never would agree that they could kill anyone, she knew that they both were capable to do that).

The man looked her over. With a stoic face, at least he tried to look stoic, the smile almost visible, he said: "You gained weight".

Without a second delay Molly replied: "You're rude. I can do the same. You're still skinny."

Then the man looked to both men standing next to Molly, noticing their demeanour as if he hadn't noticed them earlier. Sherlock was sure that that was a scheme. The man had definitively seen them, even before they walked over to Molly and took their places next to her. He couldn't be fooled by the man's 'friendly' face.

"Tell me, Molly," it sounded a little curious, "my little brilliant girl, when did you got rid of her"?

"You're still rude" Molly exclaimed "but I think you know the answer long before you came here. For me it's some fifteen years ago, but I think for you it is one hour? Hundred years?"

With a bright smile the man agreed: "Yes, I am still rude. And to answer your question, it's a hundred years give or take a few years. So, you'll come with me to cure me of my rudeness and find that brilliant girl again?"

"Only if you can get me back five minutes after we left when we go. And not one second later. I can't afford it to be back a year later. I won't that what happened to Rose.

His demeanour changed from happy and excited into something of sorrow.

"I'm sorry," Molly apologized, "I shouldn't had brought that up."

"It's ok," the Doctor replied, in the meantime fidgeting his earlobe, "you're right about that. After all it was a year later."

Sherlock looked at the man. Though the man's face showed happiness, Sherlock now he was closer, could see his eyes. They were brown, but what more, the eyes seemed sad and old. Sad he could understand. Well, understand. 'caring is not an advantage' came to mind. The man had lost someone. Probably one dear to him. Rose. Molly knew her. So she must know this man. Old. How can they be old? The man was in his thirties. Old eyes. Had seen war. More war than John had. How could he have seen more war? He was younger than John. But still. The eyes didn't lie. Those eyes had seen death. Many times over. He was a soldier. He had killed.

But after Molly's remark of 'Rose' his eyes were more sadder (was that possible?) than he had ever seen in a human being. How could losing someone could cause such pain. Not even John after his faked death had looked like that. And he was sure that John was devastated by his death. He had seen him a few times at his grave. And though John was a soldier, British and a man, he was certain that the pain he saw was in fact more than he could bare, that he had caused that, but he was unable to help John. To tell him that it was all a lie. That he didn't die. John's devastation would have disappeared and then Moriarty's men would have known and John would have died.

Before Sherlock concluded his thoughts according this man, Molly run over to the man and jumped into his arms, giving him a very big hug. He just caught a glimpse of a very big smile upon her face till he just saw the back of her head. The man's face also produced a very big smile, almost splitting his face in two and he embraced her with a force as if he would never ever let her go again.

"Molly," he sighed "so good to see you." They embraced for at least half a minute. She sighed and let him go. His eyes were back to his formal stance, sad and old though his face showed happiness.

Then he looked up at the men, still standing there. Sherlock noticed the man knew that one false move would have 'killed' ('big word') him for harming Molly. But he also saw that their protectiveness around Molly would have been in vain if Molly would have been the man's opponent. He would have wiped them away. He was capable of that. This man was DANGEROUS! Capital and exclamation mark. How!? The man was skinny. He didn't wear any guns. But then again. Moriarty didn't either. He had henchmen. But this man seemed to be alone. No backup. And why would he need Molly? How did she become acquainted with this man. This 'killer'. He seemed friendly, and he probably would be friendly, but that could change in a heartbeat. A split second more like. He glanced at John and noticed that John also noticed the danger the man displayed.

"Wouldn't you introduce me to your friends." the man said, letting Molly go. But then he put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to his side, as if claiming her.

He looked at John and Sherlock and Sherlock noticed the way the man deduced them. How exciting. Sherlock felt a thrill within him. He wanted to know everything about that man. Cause that was the punch line. He couldn't deduce anything besides that the man was a killer. Where did he come from. How became he acquainted with Molly. Why was Molly beaming? She always acted so shy and sometimes so submissive as if she didn't deserve using the space in which she was standing. And now. She had thrown herself without any delay inside the strangers arms. He knew she was friendly, kind, open, but he had never seen her so out of character. Had told the man two times he was rude. She had never said that to him, though he knew he was often rude to her. She always took his insults, even when he made her cry. She never said anything. And this man, she gave him her reply without hesitation. So self-assured. So not-Molly like. And the man ordered her around and she said no. At least till he could act on her conditions. But what conditions? Being back within 5 minutes after leaving? Why leave in the first place. Not want to be back a year later? Because that had happened to 'said' Rose.

With a big smile and a little awe shining in her eyes, Molly said as if she's introducing a very important person: "guys, meet the Doctor", waving her hand pointing at the man.

'Guys'!, Sherlock thought, 'guys?' Molly had never ever used the word guys. And then the look in her eyes. He knew she had a crush on him but never ever had she looked at him as she did now. As if this man was her solar system. Her reason to live. Probably she didn't see the man's mask. But then again, she didn't see Jim's mask either. Sherlock cringed when he thought back at the moment Molly introduced him and he also failed to notice. He just saw what Moriarty wanted him to see. A gay guy. What a disguise and he fell for it.

"Doctor," pointing now at John, "meet John Watson" and pointing at Sherlock she said: "meet Sherlock Holmes."

"No," the man exclaimed. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no. That's not possible. SHERLOCK HOLMES AND DOCTOR JOHN WATSON? The Detective and his biographer? No, no, no, no, no, that's not possible. How could they be here?" He almost cried out with excitement, happiness, incredulity and a few other expressions, Sherlock couldn't figure out that quick. The man really beamed and looked very excited. Like a kid in the candy store. He walked over to John and offered his hand. John looked a little confused but shook his hand anyway. Then the man walked over to Sherlock and offered his hand.

Had not Sherlock noticed the danger behind the man's mask, he surely would have made a remark about the man being a lunatic and he would have left the scene. But now, more questions. The man knew them. And by the man's reply not because Molly told him she worked with them. 'Well, working...' The last time they met was according to Molly some fifteen years ago. But what did she mean by an hour of a hundred years. He agreed it was hundred years. But what. Then he said doctor John Watson. Molly hadn't introduced him that way. And why saying biographer. John was writing a blog. Not a biography. And what kind of name was 'Doctor'. It was a title but she didn't give anything else. Just 'Doctor'. Codename? But Molly had no layers. She couldn't disguise herself like Mary had done. Black op's or other secret stuff, not Molly's cup of tea. Though Sherlock started to wonder if he was sure about that last bit. No, black op's was definitively out of the question, but secrets. Then he looked at Molly and he saw. Yes, definitively secrets. Why hadn't he seen that before. There was always something. Always something he missed. Now this. She had secrets. Buried so deep she almost forgot them herself. And that 'Doctor' just being there had brought them all back to her. And probably that secrets were magnificent because she adored the man. But not only that, her attitude had changed from I'm unimportant, I'm nothing to I'm the most brilliant girl on this planet and I'm worth dying for and that in five minutes flat. So, Sherlock took the offered hand.

The man smiled at her: "brilliant! Lucky girl. Protected by two man I honour the most." Then looking at both man, "thanks, gentlemen, for taking care of Molly. Her friends are my friends."

And turning around pacing towards the door he turned around once more and said to Molly, offering his hand to take: "Coming?"

"Oh yeah, just like the old days".

Before Sherlock and John could ask a question, Molly had dropped her white coat, ran over to the Doctor, grabbed his hand and ran off.