What would anyone really have expected her to do when she was faced with the threat of James, or Jim Moriarty coming back?

Had they just expected her to stay at Barts and wait for her prince charming to come and save her?

No.

There were already too many people freaking out in the hospital, she had to get away and head to the only person that could clear up everything that was happening right now.

Whether it was nothing but a sick-genius-practical joke or a real threat she had to get away from.

Sherlock Holmes.

Too bad, though that when she had gotten there all she was met with was a hyperventilating Mrs. Hudson.

When she was sure the precious lady was situated she went on her way, besides Mrs. Hudson's protests.

She had to get in contact with the Holmes brothers. "If they just answered their bloody phones!" the sharpness laced in her voice made the cab driver raise his brows.

"This little outburst of yours, it's not got anything to do with the silly old hacking that happened earlier has it?" his features were young, Molly thought, but judging from his already receding hair line and the white and grey hairs, he was one stressed young father who earned too little to keep his wife and even littler to support his children, the children he fought for.

"Nearly had me a heart attack when my screens started bursting that nonsense, I did." The smile might have been forced but that was only because she cared. Even just a little bit.

"You seem a bit too young for a heart at-"

She could have sworn she was breathing before the driver of her cab's head lolled suddenly.

Approximately one second after she recovered from her shock she had removed her belt and jumped behind the driver to steer for him, she could barely register herself shaking after the car kept going through a roundabout.

She was knocked to her knees by their impact to the fountain, then to her back when they were rear ended, then to her left side, after the car was hit from the right.

She was sweating in the cold as she watched the car's whole right side begin dipping towards the floor, towards her with every bump, with every car that added to the pile up.

"…and drenched like a shaking wet baby chicken she ran! Just saw her getting into a-SHERLOCK. I wasn't finished talking to you." Mrs. Hudson pouted as Sherlock turned away from her and walked towards the door, where he joined Mary and Mycroft, John continued to fuss over Mrs. Hudson.

Standing on either side of Sherlock were Mary Watson and Mycroft Holmes.

"I don't know anywhere else she might have gone to." Mary shook her head.

Sherlock was silent.

"I've talked to Mike Stamford. He said the same as Mrs. Hudson." Mycroft looked away as he talked and raised his head when his brother looked at him.

"Her family?" he finally spoke.

"Sherlock, she barely has any-"

"I don't care how little of her family is left, CHECK!"

Mary worried her lip and raised a brow at the younger Holmes.

"Sherlock." A warning tone from the brother.

"Just find her." Sherlock turned away and started to head up the stairs.

"And you? What shall you do while I scramble the streets of London with the service of the queen looking for a goldfish-"

A swish and a flip of his coat "Molly Hooper is many things but a goldfish is not one of them."

Now, if you're so incompetent then I will do it."

There was now barely any space between Molly and the cab's ceiling, now she was the one hyperventilating. Scrambling for her phone she immediately tried to bloody call the one person that mattered the most to her again.

"Sherlock Holmes!" Greg Lestrade almost smashed the door in pieces, startling John in the process "I need you, NOW!"

Greg has entered 221B, finding Mycroft and his brother studying the board and the Watson's looking over a laptop.

Rolling his eyes, the consulting detective went back to his wall "Not now Lestrade if you didn't hear, Moriarty's back," he spared the inspector a glance "and this time it isn't to write speeches."

"Sherlock I think Greg's got something important to tel-" Mary had observed the heavy breathing of the inspector, the desperation in his eyes, in there somewhere was something that needed to be paid attention, but, rather rudely, she was cut off by her husband.

"Sherlock! Everybody look at this." He murmured as he crouched over his laptop "There's been a ten car pile-up!"

As Mrs. Hudson entered the room, eager to help even just a little bit, with her tray of cups she found herself herding along with the rest of the people in the room to look over a news article, except for one of them, Lestrade.

"If you'd just pay attention to me I think maybe you'd like what I have to say about this pile-up." The bitterness in Lestrade's voice didn't hinder the people's attention grabbed by the article.

"Shut up, Lestrade. This might be another one of Moriarty's schemes. It says here that the reason is currently unknown. A bit odd for a pile-up report don't you think?"

"THE REASONS ARE UNKNOWN BECAUSE THE DEATH OF THE CAB DRIVER THAT STARTED IT ALL HASN'T YET BEEN DETERMINED BY THE PATHOLOGIST THAT WAS RIDING IN HIS CAB."

Blue met brown.

"Molly, Sherlock. I've found her." And just before he dashed out of the room, Greg already at his feet, Mrs. Hudson had clutched her chest abruptly fallen down on his chair with surprise.

"Oh, dear."

"Mr. Holmes." Anthea greeted with a nod as she met the brothers and the Watsons. She had come from a sea of people surrounding the incident.

"Situation, now."

"She's the only one they haven't been able to retrieve." She hadn't meant to catch the younger one's eyes when she said there were two cars on the cab.

"Where is she?" His voice was deep, cold. His face was stoic, but his hands, removing his scarf, were shaking.

"You're not allowed to get closer to the cars." Mycroft looked down towards his partner.

"Explain, Anthea." She would be lying if she said she didn't know how big of an impact the death of this woman would have on Mycroft's brother, therefore him.

"The two cars currently resting on the cab are extremely sensitive, with every vibration and every touch on all the other cars, the roof collapses."

"Is she hurt?" John Watson, Doctor, asked. His face was twisted, with a peek over her shoulder.

"No."

"How long will it take them to get her out of there?" Sherlock asked, his deep voice, shaking. The Watsons looked at one another.

This time, Anthea had meant it when she looked at him "She had requested to be given a syringe." She took out the syringe from her pocket, held it with her index and thumb "She ordered me to give this to you and find out what really happened with her cabbie.

He took it but he didn't move, he looked at her, deeply, and, as if he were talking to her soul, asked again.

"How long?"

"In their opi-"

"In your opinion, agent Andrea." She flinched at the use of her real name.

"Too long, Mr. Holmes."

His eyes widened, his mouth opened, his back straightened, he looked towards his best friend.

"It would take them too long to lift the cars up and off until they could saw the ceiling open and take her away, alive. She would be crushed by the time they were done." He didn't want to continue listening to Mycroft's partner.

Of all the things Sherlock Holmes knew how to do, to think, right at this moment, he thought: nothing.

"There's nothing you can do." He said out loud.

And then there was a ringing and without looking he turned away, and answered.

"Sherlock bloody Holmes, why have you not been answering your phone?!" whipping his head around, Sherlock dashed towards the cars "MOLLY!" he yelled, he didn't stop until he was pushed away from the cab, with two cars on top of it "Sir, you can't cross the line." He flipped him to the ground, and continued "That's my pathologist."

"Have you gotten it tested yet? At first I thought it was-"

"Molly." He couldn't see her, but her hand lay there, cut up in broken glass, he was on the hood of a car he made sure didn't touch hers.

He dropped his phone and took her hand, only her hand.

She gripped tightly back and he could tell she was trying very hard to stop her hiccups "Molly they're going to get you out of there. We've just got to wait."

"Sherlock, you can't wait, you have to get the-"

"DAMN MORIARTY!" her hand flinched, but she didn't let go, wouldn't.

Molly gave Sherlock what he needed, silence.

"…Sherlock?"

"…"

"…Sherlock, there's nothing to do here."

"I…"

"Go."

So he did just that.

He went and found out what happened to her bloody cabbie. It took him and the whole force of St. Bartholomew's two hours to figure out how to trace the poison that had been delivered to his bloodstream through a very tiny needle.

His ass had been numbing on the chair he sat on whilst he searched his mind palace for answers.

To the questions he didn't prioritize.

And every time he would stray he would hear her, see her.

Molly Hooper.

Save me Sherlock.

How?

You know how.

And then she gave him that smile. Her smile, with the twinkling eyes and the lips and the teeth, Molly Hooper's smile.

I don't know HOW!

And he'd yelled in frustration.

He'd shot Magnussen two, three, twenty-four times and it would always turn into Moriarty before he hit the ground.

Molly, I don't know how.

Yes you do, Sherlock.

Focus.

"OH!"

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do?" John had one hand on his hip and the other gesturing to Molly's cab. The paramedics and the rescue people had let them closer but watched them closer as well.

"JOHN!" he heard Mary call. He turned and saw her on the hood Sherlock had previously climbed on, with a paramedic, keeping Molly company "Molly's hurt!"

He rushed then, they'd advised him not too and he'd advised them to stop the chainsaw currently cutting into metal. They had stopped and when he reached Mary and Molly he smelled it.

"Her foots been crushed by metal!" Mary said with hidden panic in her voice.

"Molly! Molly, what happened, tell me how you're feeling-"

The metal groaned.

"That was me." The Watson's looked at one another "John…"

"Yes, Molly." There was no reply "Molly, I can smell blood, tell me what's going on!"

"Ms. Hooper, we need you to talk to us."

"…"

"Molly?"

"My left leg!" she exclaimed, she sounded out of breath; the hand Mary had been holding had disappeared the moment the cab groaned.

"AH!" the three people on the hood of the car jumped, heads flew to look at them "GET THIS CAR OFF OF ME."

"Molly tell us about the blood!" John had waved off the concerned paramedic who had been shouting for them to stop hauling the metal and laid down in between the car and the cab "Molly, what happened to your leg?"

"John," her voice quivered, he looked to his wife, looking for hope in her eyes "John, where the bloody-AH!" her voice pierced the wind as the metal groaned and continued to be dragged upwards.

"Alright, sir you need to step back, you are currently in between the cars."

"I'm not leaving her; you're crazy if you think I'm leaving her here all alone!"

"Mr. Watson, if the car they're currently hauling up gives up and that ute it's loosely tangled with falls you'll both be crushed."

"John! Mary? Go."

John looked to Mary, then to their future.

"Let's go John, she'll be fine."

He stood up, took her hand and when he helped her down and they both turned to walk away with the paramedic he saw his best friend, victory in his eyes, until he saw them.

Walking away from Molly Hooper.

The victory quickly turned to confusion and anger "John!" he yelled as he started running "What's going on?"

Mary had caught Sherlock with John, they'd taken their arms and wrapped them around him as they walked away from the pile of cars, the crane showed movement and the cars groaned.

"Sherlock!" he yelled as he made sure not to let go of his best friend. Even when he could see him breaking, feel him breaking.

"MOLLY! MOLLY! MOLLY!"

In the distance Mycroft Holmes watched until he couldn't, looking down somebody was taking his umbrella away, and the touch of her hand as she did so gave him, comfort.

He looked into Andrea's eyes "Sir." And then they heard the metal continue to groan as the car was pulled upwards, and she made sure he didn't need to watch as the chains broke and the ute fell back on the cab.

"You've caught Moran."

"Yes, sir." They both had their hands on the handle of his umbrella "Thanks to Mi-Doctor Hooper, sir."

"Doctor Hooper." He agreed, nodded.

"He'll have nightmares." The older brother in him knew.

"Going back to drugs isn't an option, though, sir." She pointed out. "Molly would have to be ignored in favor of Molly."

"Andrea don't make jokes it's not your area."

"Sir, after today? I don't care."

He had to agree, there was enough drama before Molly Hooper had so bravely pried the two metal rods crushing her leg and gotten out of the cab just as the ute dropped and after they had to deal with Sherlock all of a sudden becoming an expert on professing his love to the one that mattered the most.

He scoffed "Sentiment-"

"Is not such a bad thing." His eyes darted downwards, to look at her and he narrowed his eyes as she handed him the umbrella and raised a brow at him before finally being stolen by her blackberry again.

"It was only when you slapped me did I focus and then I realized, of course, of course he couldn't possibly have planned the pile up could he? He'd planned it all to be just a freak accident, and that's where he went wrong."

Molly scooped some more pudding from the cup Sherlock had bought for her "He didn't think about my survival." Molly nodded, looked at her plastered leg "When did I slap you?"

"Mind palace."

Ah.

"So…" she looked at him as he opened another cup of her chocolate pudding "no more missions?"

He didn't stop, only smiled at her, oh did she gush, and then he ate the pudding "That was the last one." She frowned and threw her empty cup at him "get me some more!"

He laughed, and she adored him.

Oh, how she loved him.

"Sherlock."

"I'll get you, I'll get you." He said, still laughing as he pushed the hospital chair back, smiled, laughed, and then started making his way towards the door.

"You didn't say you were in love with me because you were stressed did you?" He stopped as he'd opened the door "You meant that, right?"

He turned around, opened the door and was almost all the way out and then "Molly Hooper, I've never been very good at expressing my feelings." So eyes locked he put his hand over his heart, kissed his palm, blew it to her "I'm gonna get more pudding, I'll be right back." And winked.