"I found her! I found her!" John burst through the solid oak double doors that lead into Sherlock Holmes' penthouse apartment. "found her… Benton Avenue … hurt … alive... " He tried to explain in between gasps for air. "Oh for the love of the queen! I need to lose some weight." Sherlock, who had been tensely sitting at his plush window seat, jumped up at this news. It had been several months since Molly Hooper had bravely decided to kiss him, and he had confessed his love to her. She had put his life back together when he was about to give up on it. She was his world, but three weeks ago this woman, the woman who had his heart, who brought him back from the dead, the woman who was his everything, had gone missing. He was a powerful man and had many enemies, but never had Sherlock thought that his position would endanger the ones he loved … but then again, he had never loved anyone before. He had checked with the mortuary to see if she had just been working overtime, but none of her coworkers had heard from her. With that unsettling news Sherlock had immediately sent Lestrade and John, the best trackers in the London, to find her, and now it seemed that this decision had proved to be a wise one.

Turning to his winded friend in front of him, Sherlock said, "Slow down, man, and explain yourself."

After several deep breaths John continued, "We were down near Benton Avenue when the dogs recognized he scent off of the hoodie you had given her. I followed it to the alley behind the lane and found her beaten and bloody in the gutter. I've already carefully moved her to your room. But, sir, I must warn you, she is in terrible shape."

Sherlock was shocked. He had almost given up hope, but he knew she was still alive. Before rushing in to see her, he quickly called Mycroftt to let him know what happened.

The brother answered the phone, "Hel…"

"She's alive. Get here now."

"On my way."

Elated that she was alive and back with him, Sherlock rushed into his room. "She's alive. My Molly is alive!" He pushed through the door into his navy painted room, but never before had the room seemed so colorless. Laying in his bed was a broken and bloodied shell of what used to be his Molly. His vision started to narrow, and the room began to spin. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move. His entire world started to shatter at the sight of her. "Oh my. What happened to you? What horrible person could do this to you. You're so innocent… so sweet... "

He pulled himself together and went to her side. Deep cuts traced her arms and through her dress on her abdomen. Her knees were bruised, beaten, and out of place, her ankle broken. There came a small cry from the doorway as Mary Watson entered the room with John not far behind. Seeing them, Sherlock snapped into action. "Mary! Go get water, food, and some warm blankets. John, do you still remember how to set a broken bone?"

"Yeah," John replied in a matter of fact sort of way.

"Good. Hurry and find some supplies, also bring some antiseptic and bandages. They're in the fourth cabinet to the left in the bathroom."

Both the Watsons returned in lightning speed. Mary left the food and blankets near Sherlock and said, "She's going to need some clean clothes, so I places her sweatpants she keeps here and your large sweater on the night stand."

"Thanks." He said with an audible pain in his voice. He hated to see Molly this way. It was killing him. John returned with clean, warm water and things to set Molly's ankle.

After meticulously aligning the fractured joint, John turned to SH and said, "This set will make do for now, but I need to go get some real cast supplies. Marry and I will be back as soon as we can. You just take care of her like I know you will. There's soup on the dresser and water for her to drink. Cleaning necessities are right here."

Unable to take his eyes off of Molly, Sherlock muttered a quiet, "okay", and set to work. "How could I let this happen? My Hooper, sweet Molly." Her adorable little white, purple and black polka dotted dress was shredded. He needed to get it off her, but felt insecure in undressing her, even though she was badly wounded and unconscious. He had never seen more than the small of her back that one time that her shirt got pulled up a little when she was taking off his sweater. Yet, he still knew what he had to do. "Zipper… zipper… where's the zipp… oh thank the Lord, it's on the side." As her was carefully slipping off the remains of the dress, he muttered, "I'm sorry. I love you." every time she unconsciously winced. It didn't even cross his mind that the girl of his dreams was almost entirely naked on his bed. His mind was focused on keeping her alive.

Her now exposed abdomen was covered in deep gashes and bruises (the green and yellow kind that usually are accompanied by small fractures). "Oh my love, what happened?!"

He dipped a rag into the warm antiseptic water that John had brought. He carefully started with the deep gaping tear in the middle of her stomach.

"She's so small."

Molly winced at the touch of the rag.

"I'm so sorry." Sherlock leaned down and kissed her forehead. He continued to wash her off taking care to be extra gentle. He loved her, and knew it had to be done, but the farther down her body that he cleaned the more he blushed, but he continued. There were several gashes in each thigh. He dressed them with gauze and bandages as best as he could.

It had taken him hours, but she was now clean. "I need to cover her." He scanned the room and found his old sweater that Mary had set out for Molly. Her legs were too badly hurt to try and maneuver them into pants of any type, so he carefully lifted her just enough to slip the oversized sweatshirt over her. It hung like a sack on her small frame, but for some reason she loved that thing.

Up until that point Sherlock had been so focused on his task and had kept it together, but now he sat back on his heels and broke. Exhausted, he felt himself start to cry and he just let the tears fall. He couldn't handle seeing her like that. He carefully crawled into the bed, straddling his legs around her and leaning her body against his, supporting all her weight, and promptly fell asleep.

Mary and John had returned hours ago, but seeing Sherlock so intently working they decided not to disturb him. Peeking in the room to see how they were doing, Mary whispered over to John, "Hey! Come here." The couple looked in to see the duo cuddled together, Molly clean and resting, Sherlock covered in her blood and exhausted.

Molly started to stir. Every inch of her body felt as if it was on fire. "Where am I… SHERL...! … I don't have pants on ... "

He felt her try and move and gently held her down. "No, no you don't, Hooper. You need to stay still."

"Sherlock!," she weakly exclaimed, "where … what happened?"

He looked at her as if she was the most precious treasure he had ever seen. "We found you in an alley behind Benton Avenue. You've been missing for weeks. ...You don't remember anything, do you?"

"N... no."

"Well you're safe now." He smoothly got up and got her some water. "Mary and John helped set you ankle."

At the mention of their names, the girls entered the room. "Molly! Oh, Molly!" They both exclaimed and gently embraced their hurt friend.

"Yeah, and Sherlock took care of cleaning you up while we had to take care of some things." Mary said with a smirk.

Molly Hooper then became very aware of her lack of pants and stammered, "you… you...did you…?"

Sherlock blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah,... I kinda had to get rid of that dress…"

Mary, with an ornery smirk, leaned in toward John, "Not exactly the way Molly dreamed of being seen naked by him, huh?

Ignoring her, and breaking the awkwardness of the situation, John gently hugged Molly and said, "We were all so worried."

At this, Sherlock's eyes glistened with tears. "I thought I had lost you." Mary handed him a tissue, because even though she would crack a joke, she too, for the third time in her life, was silently crying. Sherlock leaned over and deeply kissed Molly. "Promise to never do that to me again."

She laughed even though it felt like a two ton weight was on her chest. She didn't know why she laughed, but she did. She felt like crying, screaming, anything but laughing. She looked at his handsome yet unshaven and tear stained face, his shirt that was covered in her blood, his scruffy hair, and whispered through his kiss, "I promise."