This story is an idea that I had to keep me going for another year or so until the new series. I am a Molly and Sherlock fan so there will be tones of that (not too over the top though.) but there'll also be lots for the other characters to be getting on with too. I'm a bit rubbish at explaining my stories so please read it before you cast judgement :P Enjoy!

It was nine o'clock and she was late for work. Molly hated being late, hated it when people's judgemental stares were aimed at her as she walked through the door, when a blush would rise on her cheeks as she muttered some apology or came up with some rubbish excuse for her lateness. And that is exactly what she would have to do.

The truth would not be understandable to other people and most definitely not an excuse to be late so she would have to say she felt ill or something. The actual reason was that she had been up all night, anxiously staring at her phone, waiting for a text from John or Mary to give her any sort of news or update. The last thing that John had sent her had caused her to panic and worry. It had read:

'Sherlock is in trouble. He's killed Magnusson and is being deported. He's not allowed any more visitors, I'm sorry. Thought you should know. JW.'

Molly had read the text over and over, not managing to compute what John was telling her. How could Sherlock have killed someone? Why was he being deported? Would she ever see him again? Just as she thought she might go crazy with the worry, her phone rang and she answered it quickly, Mary's voice greeting her.

"I'm so sorry for my husband. He's useless when it comes to giving out bad news." She said, her voice light-hearted but Molly could hear a strain behind it that she was sure was to do with the situation with Sherlock. "A text message? Really John?" Molly heard her say off to John who's mumbles of reply were inaudible over the phone.

"What's going on?" Was all that Molly had managed to choke out, her hand gripping the phone tightly as if that would make Mary answer faster.

"Sherlock and John thought that they had Magnusson trapped but he was even more dangerous that they had originally thought and so Sherlock did the only thing that would have stopped him being a threat to anyone else and shot him." Mary explained and Molly felt her stomach twist. She couldn't believe it or face it. Sherlock had done the thing that he usually condemned. He had become the kind of man that he usually tried to catch. Sherlock was a murde-.

"You can't blame him though Molly." Mary had interrupted her thoughts as if she could read her mind over the phone. "It needed to be done. He did the right thing." She added and Molly could hear another mumble from John over the phone that she couldn't decipher. Mary shushed him.

"Okay... fine." Molly replied, feeling anything but fine. "So why is he being deported? Can't Mycroft do anything?" She asked, her worries about Sherlock's actions turning into fear for his safety.

"He has done something by getting him deported. This is apparently the best decision for Sherlock." Mary responded and Molly opened her mouth to protest but was stopped. "I'm sorry Molly, we have to go but I will keep you updated, I promise. He'll be alright Molly. He's Sherlock Holmes." Mary had said, her tone trying to be comforting but Molly felt dazed and confused and had hung up the phone without even trying to say goodbye. It's true that he was Sherlock Holmes but Sherlock had also never killed before. This was a different situation to any he had ever been in. He had probably not planned it or seen it coming and so Sherlock must have been unprepared which was not the norm for him at all.

This was so different to how the fall had been that Molly couldn't help the fear spreading through her. She had known what was going on when he planned to jump off St Bart's. She had felt partly in control and so the worry wasn't quite as bad. This was so different. She was completely in the dark and part of her was certain that Sherlock was too. This thought terrified her.

And so, she had stayed awake most of the night, staring at her phone and waiting for news. Any kind of news of Sherlock's fate until she couldn't stay awake any longer, her eyes losing the battle to stay open and the next thing Molly knew, it was quarter to nine in the morning and she was cursing and running around her flat, desperately trying to get ready for work, not even bothering to switch on the television to see the news headlines like she usually did. Rushing, she quickly grabbed her bag and coat, flinging her arms through it as she left her flat, letting the door slam shut behind her.

She raced down the road to the tube station, hoping that the rush hour wouldn't make her any more late than she was. When she arrived at her destination and had climbed the stairs back to daylight, her phone began to vibrate and ping, a backlog of texts and alerts making their way through after it her phone had picked up signal away from the underground. Quickly, but still trying to walk as fast as she could, she fumbled in her pocket and pulled it out, her eyes widening as she saw that she had several missed calls from random people she hardly spoke to anymore and a few messages. She started with the texts, skimming over names she barely remembered to find the one's she wanted to read. She opened Mary's first.

'Have you seen the news?' Molly frowned as she read it, wishing that Mary had elaborated a little more. Annoyed, she flicked her finger over the screen to open John's message.

'He's back Molly. JW' Was all that his text said and Molly sighed, slightly frustrated that the Watson's seemed to enjoy being cryptic. She hoped that by 'he' that John meant Sherlock but something about the mass of notifications on her phone made her doubt it. For some reason, she began to feel a cold wave of nerves flow through her as she opened her last text, only a slight relief coming when she realised who had sent it. Sherlock.

'Where are you? Are you safe? SH.' Molly frowned in confusion and worry. Why was Sherlock worrying about her when he was the one that had nearly been deported? Her mind was so busy trying to answer her questions that she hadn't even realised that she had made her way to work and managed to pass through the corridors without any of the questions and stares that she had been worried about.

Molly came to a stop slowly and looked around, noticing suddenly that no-one was rushing down the corridors and that there was an eerie sort of calm that had replaced the usual early morning buzz. She frowned and began to walk towards the lab again, looking down at her phone as, once more, it vibrated.

'Where are you? SH.' Molly looked up from her phone as she went through the doors and saw some of her colleagues huddled into a corner, all talking quietly and urgently to each other.

"What's going on guys?" She asked and they all jumped, spinning around to look at her as her voice echoed around the room.

"Haven't you seen the TV?" One of them asked and Molly shook her head, the feeling of nervousness that she had before making it's way back through her. The group all looked over at another door and Molly walked over to it, gasping as her whole body went numb as her eyes fell on the television that stood in the room it lead to.

"Did you miss me?"

It couldn't be possible. It couldn't be him. But then all of a sudden everything made sense, the missed calls and the worried texts. She hadn't watched the television all morning otherwise she would have known before. John's text had said it and now she understood. He was back. Moriarty was back.

She jumped and managed to tear her eyes away from the chilling picture on the screen as her phone went again. She realised that her hand was shaking as she opened Sherlock's latest text.

'Reply Molly. Where are you? SH' Molly stared at her phone, her head whirring before she clumsily moved her fingers to type out her response.

'At St Bart's. Is he really back? M x' She sent her message and waited a little to long for her liking to get a reply.

'Get away from there.' Molly blinked and re-read the text a few times, her pulse quickening each time she did. Did Sherlock think she was in trouble?

'Where to? M x'

'Anywhere. Just find the first taxi you see and get away from St Bart's.' Molly span on her heel as soon as she read the text, her bag swinging into the air and bashing her legs as she walked as fast as she could out of the building. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she tried desperately not to look at anyone else, an irriational part of her fearing that if she did, she would be faced by Moriarty.
As she came back out onto the street, she jogged to the road and thanked God silently in her head as she held out her arm out to flag down a cab that was about to pass her. She opened the door, her mind whirring as to where she should go. She had no idea where Sherlock was or John and Mary for that matter so she couldn't join them. What about Mrs Hudson? She'd be on her own and probably freaking out too. Going there seemed like a good idea.

"Baker Street please." She said as she climbed in, letting her heart slow in pace as the taxi drove on and she took out her phone again.

'In a cab on my way to Baker Street now. What's going on? M x' She typed, huffing in frustration when she waited for a response and non came. Of course. That was typical of him. Over the past few months, Molly had felt completely in the dark, only hearing about what was happening to Sherlock through other people or even the media. Things as serious as him getting shot had been communicated to her through the work grapevine and the sudden (and rather irriating) news of him getting a girlfriend came when one of the girls at the lab had brought in her daily magazine. And now this. Sherlock had killed someone and nearly been deported and Moriarty, a man whom everyone thought was dead, was back and she had to cope with a few measly and very uninformative text messages to understand what on earth was going on.

Molly sighed and ran her hand through her hair, messing up the ponytail that she had quickly put it into in her mad rush that morning. Her eyes flicked up to look out of the window and she frowned as she began to compute where in London they were. Her eyes caught the glimpse of the sandwich shop next to Sherlock's flat and she shifted in her chair.

"Excuse me, I think you've gone past it." Molly said, leaning forward towards the driver.

"Oh, I don't think we have Molly Hooper. I decided that we're going somewhere else if you don't mind?" The driver's voice was instantly recognisable. It was a hard voice to forget and the sound of it made Molly's insides turn cold as she realised: He was in the car with her.
Panicking, she looked at the door next to her and saw that it was locked. Just as nausea and fear hit her, her phone began to ring and she looked down at it, her heart leaping as she realised that Sherlock was trying to ring her.

"I wouldn't answer that if I were you. If you do I'll only get mad." Moriarty sang the last word, drawing it out with a two note tune. "I don't like being mad at you Molly, I really don't." The Irish tones of his voice filling Molly's ears and she looked at her phone helplessly, wishing that she could pick it up and tell Sherlock where she was but all she could do was wait, wait and wonder where on earth Moriarty was taking her and what he had planned. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

Please please please let me know what you think. I have never really tried to write an ongoing story, usually I stick to a couple of chapters so I'm a bit nervous! Your reviews will help me decide whether or not to carry on!

Next chapter: We catch up with the Watsons and the Holmes brothers straight after HLV.