So Below So Above
A/N (please read!): This isn't the intended sequel. Just something I wrote as a challenge and for fun. There will be a sequel (soon!) but I hope you guys read this one as well! Also, this first chapter is un-betaed. I hope you don't mind, Tiffany, but I just needed to test the waters a bit before annoying you with my stuff :P
Sherlock Holmes had long since decided that John Watson was a singularly useful person. Not many people could be willing to dash off at a moment's notice to places unknown, and get involved into situations so dangerous it was actually rather ridiculous.
Even less people would be willing to shoot a man dead without any qualms; as long as it was proven that the man being shot at deserved to die.
No, John Watson was one in a million and Sherlock Holmes was actually indebted to the man more than he was ready to admit. Though Sherlock's impressive brain was only thinking rather unfriendly thoughts about the good Doctor as he ducked underneath the lab table, the shaking pathologist clutching to his coat as if it was her only lifeline.
Why did he ask Molly to accompany him again? Oh right. John had run off with his insipid girlfriend again and Lestrade was already working overtime. Molly had been the only option, and he rather liked having someone to talk aloud to, even if that someone was currently in the midst of a panic attack.
"Hush, Molly, they'll hear us," he snapped. "Sniveling never stopped any bullet."
Molly glowered at him through bloodshot eyes; an impressive attempt for anyone in her position. Hell, Molly never usually glowered at anyone, let alone Sherlock.
"I don't know why you feel the need to stick your nose into stupid situations." Molly retorted, "Now they are shooting some weird liquid that could be poisonous at us. I think I'm entitled to a little 'snivel'."
A glob of liquid projectile soared over their line of vision and hit the wall opposite to them.
"Damn," Sherlock cursed, "They found us. C'mon!" He grabbed Molly's wrist and dragged her out of their hiding place and ran through the lab, Molly skidding a few places but managing to retain her grip on Sherlock's arm. Something splashed on the wall a few paces behind them, and Molly could hear shouting and curses.
Sherlock was saying something to her, but she couldn't hear. Funny, how in her lab, not so different than this one, his voice could be heard over even her own thoughts. Now…this felt so wrong.
Molly made a mental note never to accompany Sherlock on any other such 'outings.'
And that was when a very hot splash of something gel-like hit her square on the back and Molly Hooper knew no more.
John Watson was very experienced in terms of what Sherlock would bring back home after every case, or how he would come home every night. But nothing could have prepared him for what Sherlock brought back home this time (No, not even the time Sherlock had brought back a basket of kittens and claimed that he needed to keep each and every one.)
John looked at the young girl, no more than two or three years of age, wrapped up tight in Sherlock's Belstaff and looking up at him with brown doe eyes and then decided to bury her face back into Sherlock's neck.
Sherlock hefted her into a more comfortable position in his arms and looked back at John coolly, "Yes?"
"That. That thing in your arms. Where did you get that?" John spluttered, and Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Obviously, this is a girl, John. I didn't steal her, if that's what you think."
"No shit, Sherlock. But what is she doing in your arms? And wearing nothing but your coat, apparently."
"Would you mind carrying her for a bit? My arms are going numb."
And without further ado, Sherlock handed John the girl and she went to him with good grace, smiling timidly up at John.
"Hi, pretty lady," John said kindly, and the girl giggled, "What are you doing with mean old Sherlock? Where's your mum?"
The girl's eyes widened as if she never really fathomed why she was with Sherlock. Raising her head up, she answered defiantly, "Sher…Sherlock not mean."
John rolled his eyes at Sherlock's bedroom door, where the detective had disappeared into, "Good to see you have already brainwashed this one. Is she like…one of your Homeless Network?"
Sherlock shouted something incomprehensible and John looked back at the girl, "What's you name, love?"
"Molly," the girl said proudly. "Molly 'ooper."
Well…fuck.
"Holmes...get out here this instant-" John started saying in dangerous tones, momentarily forgetting the girl in his arms until she whimpered in fright, "Aw, sorry, sweetheart-Molly. I'm sorry, Molly. Hush, now, don't cry."
John was gently patting the girl on her head when Sherlock came out, wear those disgusting pajamas that looked as if he had had them for ten years.
"John, tea." Sherlock said simply, before flopping down onto the sofa in a tangle of limbs.
John lowered the girl who was supposed to be Molly (of course it couldn't be! She had to be Sherlock's kid…yeah, that made sense. Maybe Molly, their Molly-) into his armchair and then went to glower in front of the sprawling mess that was his best friend, "What exactly does she mean, Holmes, by her name being Molly? She can't really be-"
"I take it, by the use of my surname, that you jumping to wrong conclusions. She isn't my daughter." Sherlock said, making a grab for the newspaper lying on the coffee table and raising it so that his face was hidden.
'Molly' giggled.
"Then….I take it she's Mo-"
Sherlock rolled his eyes, John couldn't see it, per se, but he had been around Sherlock long enough to pick it up just by the tone of his voice, "No, John, she isn't Molly's either."
"Then who exactly-"
"She is exactly," Sherlock stated calmly, "Exactly who she says she is. Molly Hooper."
"No, wait…what-You are kidding right? Yeah, kidding of course…haha-hnng…"
"John?" Molly squealed from the sofa, drawing out the 'o' in a curious manner, "You okay?"
If Sherlock hadn't decided to hide behind the newspaper, he could have possibly caught the ex-army doctor when he went crashing down right onto the coffee table in a dead faint.
A/N: I wasn't sure about posting this. Originally intended as a one-shot, I just realized it needs another chapter, otherwise it would be so lengthy. Now, I'm sure you all will hate me for even thinking about writing this- but it was a challenge to myself and this came out as a result.
I hope you like this at least a bit as much as you like As Above As Below, whose sequel is underway. A bit slow, but still underway.
A very Happy Birthday to MorbidByDefault. This isn't exactly the fic I had in mind, but the other one is taking too much time. Sorry!
Lots of Love to A Pirate by Any other Name and NoveraDeMedeci, for being awesome friends.
Anyways, love to you readers as well, and I hope you review!
-Adi x
P.s: Guys….I made a twiiter account (adiba_mou) Anybody interested in following me? None of my friends have twiiter ):