Welcome, friends. This is my first Sherlock fic, but I still can't get enough of everyone's post-TFP fics. So here's mine.
Chapter One
*BANG! BANG! BANG!*
Molly initially thought the pounding was inside her head until she heard, "Molly Hooper! It's the Police! We need you to open up!"
She forced herself awake, and looked around to see where she was. She'd fallen asleep on the couch, half-covered with a fuzzy blanket, one mostly covered with cat fur. She squinted to look at her watch in the dark. It was just before 5am.
She pulled the blanket around her and looked out the door. She vaguely recognized the fellow, but she couldn't recall his name. She opened the door.
"What's this about, Sergeant?" she asked, curtly. Blinking herself awake, she noticed he was wearing full body armor. She glanced behind him and noticed his colleagues were as well, and there were police dogs. Her cat won't be pleased by this.
"Dr. Hooper, we're here on orders from DI Lestrade to sweep your home for explosives and illegal surveillance equipment," he said. "For your safety, we need you to vacate the premises as quickly as possible. The sweep is likely to take a few hours."
She gasped when he said "explosives," then nodded, and went to find the cat carrier. Still wearing yesterday's clothes, she simply grabbed an already-packed travel bag and scooped the feline into the carrier, offering a murmured apology to the unhappily meowing cat.
Susan, one of the female uniformed officers, offered to keep the cat carrier in the police van, and promised to set him free in the house and lock up once they were done, if Molly didn't want to stick around.
Molly didn't want to stick around.
First, there was the intrusive phone call from Sherlock yesterday evening. Now, she has to suffer the indignity of a police search of her home. She was told Lestrade would explain everything when he arrived back in London. She wondered what investigation could possibly take him out of London in the first place, and what it has to do with explosives and cameras in her flat.
Her thoughts drifted back to Sherlock. She supposed this had something to do with him. The bizarre phone call followed by potential explosives in her home? She remembered something about a fire in his flat on Baker Street, and that he and Mrs. Hudson would be staying at John's until the damage was repaired. Yes, this definitely has something to do with Sherlock. Bastard.