Well, no one reviewed except for one VERY NICE PERSON, you know who you are and I am really really grateful.
So I did this chapter mostly for the very nice person who actually reviewed, but I also just really wanted to write it. It also has slight Johnlock if you squint and some major character deaths in it, sorry but Jim had to kill some people off..
I don't own Sherlock (as much as I would like to), all credit to Moffat and Gatiss and the BBC and whatnot.
Love Misty xx
Chapter Four
"Molly! Molly, wake up!"
She looked at her clock. 6:37am. Dammit, why'd she have to wake up so early?
"What?" Molly said blearily. It was Sunday. Sherlock was due to meet Jim soon.
"There's been more killings. Eleven. Anderson, Donovan and a few of their colleagues, your assistant at the morgue, Anthea, Sarah, and Stamford."
Lestrade...
The victims were getting more and more closely related to Sherlock and John. Molly realised that she was only in her pyjamas and self-consciously pulled the duvet around her to prevent Sherlock from seeing. "But Sherlock.. why this early -?
"But it's obvious, Molly. They'll be aiming for you next." Yes, Sherlock was clever. Any rational criminal would have made Molly his next target. That is, except James Moriarty. Molly had known from the start that Jim would never hurt her directly, he loved her.. well, he loved her in his way, and Molly was strong enough to put up with whatever flaws his way had.
She had no idea where her next words came from. They just seemed to appear in her mind and she couldn't help but say them.
"Do you even care?"
Sherlock was stunned by this. "Molly.. of course I care."
"Why?"
He paused. "Because..because.. never mind. You need to get out of here before one of his snipers gets to you. He knows where you live."
Sherlock's phone buzzed from somewhere inside his coat. Good try, but wrong! –JM
He sighed heavily. "Scrap that about the snipers."
"So you're telling me you woke me up for no reason at all? Sherlock!" Molly huffed.
"No matter. You need breakfast."
"I need to go back to sleep," she muttered, but got out of bed and put her slippers on. "Do you want coffee?"
"No." As Molly went to make herself tea, Sherlock paced around her livingroom, thinking. "Wait.. twenty one.. twenty one!"
"What?" Molly yawned, and switched on the news. The headline almost made her drop her tea.
"The entire cabinet has been killed in what is probably the largest successful assassination attempt ever recorded, with the Prime Minister the only one spared. The catastrophic event happened yesterday afternoon after several snipers found their targets making their way to the House of Commons, leaving the nation shocked and tense. But the main question is, who masterminded this operation, and how long will it be before they are brought to justice?"
"Sherlock," she managed. "Sherlock, you need to see-"
"I know, Molly," he said, completely emotionless. "How many members of the cabinet have been killed?"
"Twenty one, but-"
"How many people we know have been killed?"
"Twenty one. Oh."
"Exactly, Molly. Think. There's twenty two people in the cabinet and..." Sherlock's brow furrowed.
"What is it?" she asked tentatively.
"John."
This was it. Ten o clock and Sherlock had put on his coat, left in a cab and gone to the Houses of Parliament. He had to leave her in the flat, of course. Sherlock wanted to face danger alone, and more importantly, Molly couldn't be there or Jim's plan wouldn't work.
Molly had Jim's plan sussed out now. It was simple: twenty one of the Cabinet were killed except the Prime Minister, twenty one of the people Sherlock had known were dead except John. Sherlock was going to have to choose between his only friend and the man who ran the country. And she had to sit in her flat and wait until all this little drama was over. It infuriated her. Why was Molly never involved in any of Jim's plans since they were children?
Because he cares too much about you, she soothed herself. Like a child who loves his favourite toy so much he doesn't bring it out at all, but leaves it at home where he knows he can't lose it. When she thought about it, Molly didn't like that analogy. It made her into a puppet. Jim's puppet and Sherlock's puppet with no mind of her own.
The doorbell rang. Molly opened it with surprise, finding that it was John. "John!" she said. "Uh.. hi! What are you..d-doing here?" If John was here, it meant he was either about to get killed, or Sherlock had picked the Prime Minister. Molly still had no idea which he would choose. John was the closest thing he had to a friend, but the Prime Minister was.. well, he was the Prime Minister.
"Did Sherlock come here? This morning?" John seemed flustered.
"Yes, he did actually. He left about an hour ago.. Why?"
"It's just – he said he needed to do something, and he wouldn't let me come, and I'm worried, Molly. He might be in danger."
"Oh," said Molly.
"Did he tell you where he went?"
"No.. I don't – he just told me he had to go for reasons that didn't concern me.."
John shook his head. "Sherlock can be so irritating sometimes, but – If he calls you or anything, let me know." He shut the door.
As soon as he did this, Molly got a text. Molly, I just got the Prime Minister killed. –SH
She was somewhat relieved on the surface, but swallowed the rising sense of dread floating up from underneath. Jim had just killed the Prime Minister. If he was caught..
However, the nerves she had felt then were nothing compared to what she felt when she saw the second note lying on her kitchen table.
Next time Sherlock won't be so lucky. And neither will you.
