Chapter 4

Sherlock paced the hall outside her room, quietly. He was furious and he could feel his blood beginning to boil. If there was an emotion that came out in Sherlock, it was usually anger. He couldn't handle the people he cared about being harmed. It was still frustrating him that he couldn't go outside. If he did, he'd have caught the guy that hurt her. His fists were clenched and his knuckles pale.

He tried to clear his mind of the emotions disrupting his thinking, and figured out that there was something he could do. He grabbed her coat that was on the floor and took off any evidence that he could find, but the rest of her clothes couldn't be examined until morning.

Molly woke up, assuming she would have to be leaving for work soon. She looked at the clock and was relieved she had extra time to shower, her head was still spinning and eyes tired from being mentally drained, so hopefully the shower would help.

She made her way into the bathroom and took off her clothes, making the water as hot as she could before she got in. She sat there while the water poured down on her, pulling her legs up to her chest, and burying her head between her knees, trying to cry quietly so she wouldn't wake Sherlock. He had finally ventured off of the couch and was sleeping in the other bedroom, so he was closer.

Sherlock hadn't slept. How could he sleep? He barely had the room to focus, let alone letting his brain shut down when he needed to get all of the evidence together for Lestrade. Sherlock opened the bathroom door so he could collect her clothes for evidence when he heard her crying. This brought back some of the anger, but it made him more determined to gather up all the evidence quickly, as he did and shut the door.

Molly pulled her head up. She thought she heard a door close, but she figured the flashbacks probably just had her on hyper awareness and hearing things. Though, when she pushed the shower curtain open and grabbed a towel, she realized the previous night's shirt and pants were no longer on the floor where she had left them.

She got dressed and didn't even remember to put on her makeup or fix her hair. She walked out into the sitting room to find a hot cup of tea sitting on the coffee table. He was finishing packing up the bag of evidence.

"Did you need something in the bath-"

"Yes, your clothes."

Her eyes went wide; she was really confused. He put the bag in her hands and she looked down at it. "You need to bring this to Lestrade."

"I don't understand, what is this?"

"I gathered all of the evidence I could from your clothes, and Lestrade can find out who did this," his face looked angry and sad all at once.

"Oh, well, thank you," she was still really surprised. "I'm going to have to leave for work in a few minutes."

"I know. That tea is for you, and a cab is already on its way," he said, already at the window, pulling the curtain away so he could look outside. "You're not to go outside until the cabby pulls right up. He's going to take you to the station and inside there's a note, in your handwriting, explaining the evidence. You're going to tell him you gathered as much as you could. From there, you will go straight to work. You won't need to order a cab tonight either, I already instructed him to take you home."

Molly was bewildered. Not only had he not talked this much since he was here, but she didn't understand why he was doing this for her. A small smile came across her face.

"Don't worry, Molly, they're going to catch him," he said, staring out the window, still waiting for the cabby, "they better, or I'll have to do it myself."

Molly finally spoke up, "thank you, Sherlock, for all of this. Don't go out anywhere though, you know you can't; you can't risk being noticed. I don't need anyone getting hurt at my expense."

"Your cab is here."

Molly went outside quickly and got in the cab. She was so lost in her thoughts she barely remembered the ride to the station, and even going into the station, let alone the ride to work. She couldn't grasp this side of Sherlock, but it definitely seemed like it was a good thing. After the surprise in her wore off, she began to think again about the previous night's event. She couldn't keep thinking about it; she just needed to get to work so that she could focus on her work, it soothed her.