A/N: Hello there. Finally, I'm uploading my first Khanolly-fic. I started writing it on tumblr based on an amazing gifset from beddyburc. I wanted it to be just a small thing, but it has become such a big thing already that I thought it would be better to post it here, so you can read it all together. :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one. I certainly have fun writing this. Rating is for the violence and smut later on.

Molly froze as she watched the screen.

"Sh…Sherlock?" she asked in confusion. Then the picture sharpened and Molly gasped. It was his face. But the eyes were not. Those eyes…so cold and angry and full of pain. This wasn't Sherlock.

"Mycroft was wrong…"

His voice was different, too. It was like the velvet growl of a panther. Invading her, rippling through her body and sending shivers down her spine. Never had she heard such a voice, calm but menacing at the same time.

"…locking me away won't work. That you let him do this to me…now, there is war between us, brother dear."

Molly inhaled sharply.

Brother?

"Of course", Molly breathed. "'The other one'."

Words which had been spoken years ago. She hadn't been meant to hear them, but she had. She remembered it vividly. Remembered Sherlock's eyes flickering to the side.

Hurt and fear.

Fear…

Molly pressed her lips together, whirled around and grabbed her things along the way as she sprinted for the door…

~oOo~

Totally out of breath, Molly reached 221B Baker Street. Throwing her body weight against the door she slammed it open, not caring to close it again before she stormed up the stairs, hearing things crashing to the floor.

When she reached the top, dread filled her heart.

Both chairs thrown over. The floor covered with books and lose pages. Beakers and the rest of Sherlock's equipment broken, the shards of broken glass sticking in the carpet. John lying on the floor in front of the fireplace, his arm in an unnatural angle, unconscious. Sherlock lying on top of the smashed coffee table, just having been thrown onto it, the man who had done it crossing the distance between them with long strides.

Molly didn't take the time to look at him.

She threw herself between the brothers, positioning herself in front of Sherlock, hand stretched out defensively.

Taken aback, the man stopped and their eyes met for the very first time.

Fear and tears in hers.

Rage and confusion in his.

"Please, please don't hurt him", she begged breathlessly, shaking her head.

"M…Molly, no…" she heard behind her.

The man standing in front of her snarled and took a threatening step forward, his eyes darting to Sherlock.

Even though she was scared and felt tiny compared to his intimidating presence, Molly stepped in his way and pressed both her hands against his broad, hard chest.

"No, no!" she shouted, trying to catch his eyes.

"Khan!"

Oh, he got her attention now. His brows furrowed and his eyes, which were so much like Sherlock's and so different at the same time, roamed over her face.

"Please, Khan. Don't. He's your brother. He's your brother!"

His lip curled dangerously and he pushed against her small hands. She bent her head to catch his eyes once again.

"What would your mother say?"

Khan froze, his nose crinkled, tears filling his eyes. But he fought them down a second later as his eyes fixed her.

Molly's heart drummed in her chest.

"Who are you?" he growled and she shivered.

"I'm his pathologist."

Khan's eyes widened in recognition and Molly fought to not let her gaze drop. Their eyes were still locked while Khan thought.

"Please don't hurt him. I beg you", she whispered and a traitorous tear escaped her lashes. A tear whispering of long held feelings. Khan's eyes followed its path down her pale cheek.

Seconds passed with no sound but Sherlock's pained moans.

"You're his heart…" he finally whispered and his eyes turned cold.

Molly swallowed hard, but held his gaze.

"Yes."

"M…Molly…" Sherlock grunted and caused another tear to fall.

"I will come with you if you stop this now."

"N…No…no!"

Khan looked down at his twin brother, who was struggling to get up.

Then his eyes drifted back to the small woman with the big brown eyes.

"I agree."

"No! You can't have her! NO!"

Sherlock's voice traveled after them as Khan let her down the flight of stairs, his big, strong hand curled around her small wrist, his grasp merciless.

But she didn't resist. She followed him as fast as she could manage.

The most important thing was to get him away from Sherlock, she told herself over and over again as he flagged down a cab, shoved her inside and barked an address at the cabbie that would bring them out of town.

She turned her head as they drove away, seeing Sherlock stumble out onto the street, blood running down his forehead, looking after them with wild eyes.

Molly bit her lip not cry in front of Khan. Exhaling a breath, she leaned back into the seat, staring out of the window, trying to ignore the powerful, dangerous presence next to her.

She would be okay, she assured herself.

She would be okay…