I would like to thank everyone one who is enjoying this story and I do hope you continue to enjoy. In fact my fingers are crossed!
Also a big heartfelt thank you to Zeehana, Succi, Guest, Shazzykins, Catsgotmytongue...You have made me smile and made me quite determined to write more. Again thank you, you guys really are wonderful and lets face it, you rock!
~*~And So Beats A Gentle Heart~*~
~*~PART 4~*~
Poor devil, how could I be angry when I saw him lying in such a plight before me?
-The Dying Detective by Arthur Conan Doyle
I was bitterly hurt.
'Such a remark is unworthy of you, Holmes.'
- The Dying Detective by Arthur Conan Doyle
~*~SHERLOCK~*~
Sherlock Holmes is a 'stubborn sod' as well as an 'annoying twat' and sometime later John threw in some other interesting and some quite vulgar words as he growled all this personally to the great consulting detective…all because Sherlock refused to stay in prison or what was better known as the hospital…
And yes, Sherlock knew without any doubt that he should stay in this…hospital…Only Sherlock could say it like a violent curse word and truly mean it. Yet, he didn't want to stay in this building meant to heal or this even this bloody horrible bed. He also knew quite well, in fact, that John standing there calling him all sorts of nasty things was because he generally cared about him…and was greatly worried…overwhelmingly concerned and perhaps…a bit scared.
Sherlock had come close to dying and John never took such an awful thing very well.
And, anyway, John was much more furious with Moriarty's brother than he was with him. For his best friend hated that someone would dare to hurt much less torture Sherlock…Of course, John being the kind and loyal friend that he was…would indeed become angry when his friends were hurt in some way…That was just the good doctor's nature.
Sherlock understood all this, really he did. As much as he would have hated to admit it, he, himself, would have been more than furious if John had been the one who had been beaten and tortured. Honestly, he would have gone off and killed the person responsible not before he had personally asked his brother, which he would have hated to do, to watch over his best friend. To have nothing but the best doctors and perhaps a guard at John's door…Then, Sherlock would have been off comfortable in the thought that his dear friend was safe in a blasted hospital bed with perhaps his wife and offspring at his side…
But John Watson was not Sherlock Holmes and it had been Sherlock who had been so brutally tortured…and now he argued quite hotly with his trusted doctor, his loyal, dear and at this moment, highly annoyed friend.
"No, Sherlock!" John said in true sharp frustration.
"Either help me, John, escape this hellhole or I will escape on my own!" Sherlock stated before reminding his best friend, "I've done that before, remember? Trust me; I can easily do it again!"
Worried anger continued to flash in John's eyes as he looked at his heavily bruised and almost fragile looking man lying upon the bed. "This hospital is not a prison, Sherlock! You need—"
"NO!" Sherlock cut him off, "I need to be home at Baker Street! I need to start hunting down that complete arsehole! I need to work. I need to heal in my own way! The only way to do that is to rain down my brand of vengeance upon him, John…I don't need to climb out the window and shimmy down a drain pipe with my bare arse trying to outshine the bloody moon! I already did that once, I don't wish to do so again!"
"Not my fault you decided to be a sodding idiot after you were shot!" John yelled, clearly still very angry with his friend.
Sherlock felt his jaw tighten before he took a deep breath, refusing to look at his best friend as he swallowed his pride and almost begged. "Please, John…Please…I just…I need to leave. I don't want to be here. I want to go home. Please…"
"Jesus, Sherlock…You need to heal. My God, look at yourself…" John replied, his voice tight with emotion.
Sherlock shook his head, before telling him stubbornly, truthfully and softly, "I don't want to look at myself. I just want to go home."
Sherlock seriously feared that his voice reflected his weariness…his raw pain…The ache of his wounds. His body was letting him know just how unhappy it was…But his brain was determined to show it just who was boss.
"You are staying here, Sherlock, even if I have to tie you to that bloody bed myself!"
"Seriously? Must I remind you that I've already been strapped down quite recently? On a metal slab? Remember how you found me? Go ahead, try to tie me down and I promise you…mate…you won't like what will happen!" Sherlock sharply said these words coldly and cruelly…Yet…John's reaction wasn't anger…not even fear…but shame.
"Right…I shouldn't have said…" John muttered in apology, looking extremely uncomfortable.
Sherlock tried to relax and attempted to give a careless shrug. "It's…what it is. I wasn't always strapped to that metal slab, you know…At first, when I woke up I was strung up by my chained wrists…" He looked down to eye the savagely dark and thick bracelet like bruises upon his wrists before continuing…Trying to make it sound as if he was chatting about the silly London weather. "I found it all to be quite uncomfortable, John…I guess that is the thing about torture…It's not meant to be comfortable."
"Sherlock…"
He ignored John hoarse whisper of his name, Sherlock's eyes now focused completely on him. "I have been beaten, whipped and tortured. I just want to go home, John, that's all…I must work on finding Moriarty's brother, I can't do that from this bed…"
Sherlock stopped for a moment to swallow hard, still looking at his best friend, hoping to make him understand.
"I don't…" Sherlock began once more, his voice now a mere fragile thread of sound before he cleared his throat to try again, "I can handle the torture, John. I can handle all that he did to me…But I…I can't handle the thought that next time it won't be me. It could be you or Mary or Mrs. Hudson instead. I know he will continue to play with me. He wants to punish me for his brother's death. Moriarty's brother wants to punish me for daring to live when it was his baby brother who died. I may not have pulled that trigger but he honestly believes that…that I might as well have. He believes that I killed him…The way he sees it I'm a worthless murderer. I can't change his mind about that. I am the enemy and I must pay…I am worried, John. How is he going to make me pay? Hmm? What if…What if he captures you and tortures…you…"
Or what if he captures and tortures Molly?
Sherlock wasn't sure why exactly but that thought made his heart stop.
James Moriarty had once informed him years ago by a lovely pool that he was going to burn him…burn his heart…
What if Moriarty's damn brother finished the blasted job?
That bloody bastard had to be stopped. He couldn't be allowed to harm Molly or John…Not even his dear Mrs. Hudson…He could, however, have Mycroft, if he wanted…
Damn.
Now that he thought about it…
No, he could have Mycroft.
Otherwise…The funny thing was that life really was unexpected. He loved it when cases had the unexpected twist…But life in itself was the true mystery. There had been a time, long ago, when he had no friends…Now; he even had a best friend and…his pathologist…and other people in his life that he could perhaps call…friends…In some illogical way he had family had been created around him, they might not be blood but they seemed to have become his family nonetheless…
Mycroft would probably tell him that he had been better off without his friends…But Sherlock didn't see how that was true. He liked having John, Mary, Mrs. Hudson, and even Lestrade in his life…Especially Molly in his life.
Sherlock had a band of people he felt he could trust and in his own way…care about.
Okay, he wouldn't want Mycroft to be in Moriarty's brother's hands…For being his arch-nemesis Mycroft was quite useful to have in his blasted corner every now and again…Only every now and then, of course.
And Moriarty's brother…There was a true sod. Sherlock knew he always missed something but the thought he had missed the fact that Moriarty had a brother! A twisted sick brother…who had deeply loved his baby evil genius of a brother and was perhaps a great help in James' powerful network…and probably the only true confidant James had really…Damn he could easily be a blind beetle at times!
Sherlock could still remember James Moriarty's words quite clearly…He had wanted to 'burn his heart' and completely destroy Sherlock's life and everything he held dear…and to be honest, Sherlock didn't want anyone to destroy what he now had. Seriously, he could damn well screw it all up on his own, thank you very much!
"Sherlock…" John's voice cut into his thoughts, forcing Sherlock to look at him once more. "Please, I'm worried about you…"
"Of course you are, John. You are a doctor and my best friend…Seriously, I don't need to be a great detective or even use my skill of deduction to realize that! But surely you can worry about me from Baker Street instead of here!"
"Sherlock…" John sighed, rubbing his hand across his face.
Sherlock continued to study him with completely unsympathetic eyes before asking, "Where is Molly?"
John removed his hand to study him before stating calmly, "She went home but don't worry. Mycroft's men have looked her flat over before allowing her inside…There will even be some of his men around to keep a watchful eye on things outside her flat and on her. Also, seriously she now has the British government on speed dial! Mycroft has even sent some dangerous men and women with Mary and keep an eye on things from that front…Which is kinda funny if you really think about it…They are going to try to keep my wife, who is a former assassin nice and safe!"
"Yet…What I'm really hearing is that Molly is actually alone right now." Sherlock decided to point out. For some unknown reason he was feeling a slow anger start to burn within him…And John, dear John, was supposed to understand! Really, he was the one who understood people, right? Yet…Didn't he see?
"Yes, she's alone, sure, but she's quite safe, Sherlock. She needs her rest." John told him, still sounding so very calm and completely unbothered.
Sherlock's hands curled into fists. Oh, how he hated this! Hated with a passion dealing with silly emotions! Emotions had no logic to them. Emotions never solved mysteries! And being the type of man that he was he could normally turn them off much like flipping off a switch. He was usually more logical then…then this!
Perhaps, damn his soul, he was still quite vulnerable from the aftermath of being tortured…He didn't want to be bothered with it all really.
"You're wrong." Sherlock simply stated. Knowing that John had been wrong many times before and it really wasn't a great surprise. Sherlock wondered if his heavily bruised face was at least blank and completely emotionless. Please…Let him still have that! "Molly is not going to rest tonight, John."
No…Not his Molly…Not after saving him and definitely not after saving John's life as well.
"You told me," Sherlock continued, "how she shot a man, John, for you. You as well as I know that Molly Hooper is no soldier. She's loyal, kind and good hearted like you but she's no killer. She…Molly will never be a killer and though she is use to dead bodies…she…she doesn't like being the reason they are dead! She respects life and even death but there is something about…Do you know that she sometimes hum while doing an autopsy? Sometimes she will even smile a little bit…The outside world might not understand such actions. She is probably at home hating herself right now because she took someone's life…Even if that someone was trying to steal yours. She's not you John, she damn sure isn't me and she will never be your Mary! Molly really shouldn't be alone, John…"
"Damn…You're right…" John muttered.
Sherlock nodded…He could picture Molly so clearly in his head. She'd be alone, of course. Curled up upon her bed, perhaps, even holding her pillow quite close as if seeking comfort. She'd be thinking about that moment…The simple moment where she decided to save Sherlock's best friend.
And damn it all, Molly was probably crying! She didn't need to cry! Normally, Sherlock could simply care less about some silly female crying…but for some reason the thought of Molly's tears…bothered him greatly…In fact; they wounded him far more than any torture done to him by Moriarty's brother's hands. However he would never admit that out loud. Ever!
"You need to call her, John, now." Sherlock ordered. "Inform her to meet us at Baker Street. Tell her to go to the grocery store for she's going to make me dinner. That weird mash potato thing that I've witnessed her putting in the oven…It's called Shepard's…something…Don't really matter what it's called but I want it. Along with her roasted asparagus…Also, inform her that she is to make that hot strawberry dessert that she'll put ice cream on. Tell her all this so that she knows what to buy…My cupboards is pretty much bare and my fridge as well as microwave is full of last week's body parts."
"Sherlock! You can't order Molly to make you food!" John told him, seeming to be insulted on Molly's behalf.
"Why not?" Sherlock asked, before replying calmly. "She killed a man, John, for you. She must focus her mind on something else…something much more important…Mainly me. I have been horribly tortured…and even if I hadn't been…Molly should focus on me anyway."
"You are such an unbelievable sod! Honestly!" John growled, looking as if he wished to smack him…Gently, of course…for he had been tortured.
"Oh, please, you have called me much worse." Sherlock replied with a careless wave of his hand. "And really, John, you should do whatever I ask you to do…Quickly and efficiently, without question. For I have been brutality tortured…and don't I, a recently tortured man, deserve to have a homemade meal, created by the person of his choice? Or is it because I'm 'that freak' Sherlock Holmes so I don't deserve comfort food…" Sherlock gave a couple of small tsk sounds before shaking his head sadly, "I thought better of you, John."
"You know perfectly well that you are no freak!" John said with a heated glare his way. "You are such a manipulative bastard…My God! You are going to use the fact that you've been badly tortured for all its worth aren't you?"
Sherlock simply gave him a look as if John was the main reason those 'Books for Dummies' had been created.
"Hell, yes! Of course I am!" Sherlock finally confirmed. "What would have been the point of surviving a brutal torture if one can't use it for his own purposes to get what he wants? A blowtorch came this…" The world's only consulting detective held up a thumb and finger inches apart while continuing, "close to my naughty bits, John! So I seriously believe that for a while I should have what I want. Though I know the only way I will ever feel better is to seek vengeance upon Moriarty's brother and crush him like a black beetle until such time comes about, I should be allowed to order people about…"
"You normally do anyway…" John muttered dryly.
"Oh, before I forget, do text Mrs. Hudson for I want fresh biscuits with my tea in the morning."
He almost felt like smiling warily as he watched John close his eyes and take some deep breathes…Yes, John, that's right…Go on count to ten…Nice and slow…That's good, now count one more time for good measure!
Sherlock knew, without any doubt, that John was more angry at Moriarty's brother than with him…No matter how much he could annoy him…greatly it seemed…He wasn't truly angry with him…Nope, though he was a bit pissed off that Sherlock was refusing to stay in the blasted hospital aka prison cell with smiley overly helpful people ready to tell him what he can and can't do…Screw that!
John was simply a worried mother hen…
Sherlock knew he would prefer being called a rooster but a hen worked so much better.
Oh, John may be a good doctor, but he still wanted to hurt Moriarty's brother for daring to hurt his best friend. Really, Sherlock may not understand people or nature but he understood that. Yet the thing is that Sherlock was going to hurt the bastard back. Sherlock simply hoped that he did so before that mad man hurt his friends.
His sore hands clenched the hospital sheets, still eyeing John carefully as he waited ever so impatiently.
John finally opened his eyes and focused his attention completely upon him and Sherlock now knew for certain that he had won. John was going to do what he wanted…what he needed to do. Get him the hell out of here and back to Baker Street!
"FINE!" John began to say attempting to sound all stern and 'Lord of the manor'…
Damn…Really? John was a soldier, surely he could do better…If he used that for his stern voice with his daughter she would get away with murder and of course, Sherlock would help her do it.
John continued, "I will get the damn forms for you to sign and then we can leave. I will even call Mycroft so you can get back to London faster—"
"OH! Do remind him that I've been brutally tortured!" Sherlock quickly cut in. John glared at him so very hotly that Sherlock was forced to shrug to show his indifference. Yet he found himself replying, "What? Don't give me that look. With Mycroft, I have about a week…perhaps even two…Where I own him. He will have to do everything I suggest, otherwise, I will tattle on his fat arse to Mummy and tell her that he's being mean to me…Seriously, John, I have a small window here and must use it…Here, for example…"
Sherlock's heavily bruised face softened and he took a deep shaky breath before he said softly, "Oh, hello, Mummy, so lovely of you to call…How am I? I'm fine though I have been through so much lately and it doesn't help that Mycroft…No, I better not tell you what he said, for I don't want you to become upset, so never mind…No…Please Mummy I can't talk about it! Maybe It's my fault anyway…Maybe I'm acting out for if that blowtorch had gone an inch to the left I'd never be able to give you grandchildren…I still have bad nightmares about the whole thing, so maybe I'm just being real sensitive as of late…Don't…Don't tell Mycroft…I just wish he'd stop teasing and being so bloody mean is all…No, Mummy, please…Just let me deal with it! I've been tortured, if I can handle that I'm certain that I can handle Mycroft being Mycroft…No…Please just forget I said anything…So, tell me, Mummy, how have you been?"
Sherlock suddenly flashed an evil smirk John's way before asking in a normal tone, "So, what do you think? Should I push it for three weeks?"
With wide eyes, John shook his head in complete disbelief. "Jesus, Sherlock."
"Anyway, while you get the forms and call Mycroft…make damn sure to call Molly!" Sherlock ordered once more.
For he wanted…needed to see her. Even though he had been the one to be so savagely tortured he still wanted to see her again, make sure she was alright…For some odd reason that Sherlock couldn't logically comprehend he wanted her near him…He wasn't even sure he could use the excuse that it was to protect her from Moriarty's brother…For even though he was concerned about that…He had a crazy feeling that to use that excuse would become nothing but a lie. He wanted to see her for completely selfish reasons ones that he dare not look too closely at.
He just…hopefully this was just a weak moment that would pass…for now he needed his pathologist.
"Right." John muttered before pressing his lips together in a tight thin line. "I'll get on that right away. I will also try to find a completely nice way to ask her to go to Baker Street and make you the dinner you wish for…I won't remind her that you've been tortured…Though knowing you…It's been days since you've eaten anything—"
"A stale sandwich three days ago." Sherlock cut in.
John gave him a furious look. "You are damn well going to eat everything she places on your plate or I'm asking Mycroft to help me put itching powder in your socks and pants drawer!"
Sherlock wasn't sure how to respond to that. Not that it mattered for John had already turned to walk to the door…Sherlock simply watched as John suddenly came to a stop and turned his face towards him…Sherlock had never seen it so hard and emotionless…Whatever thought he just had, hadn't been a good one. He was so utterly still…Almost a statue…The only proof that he wasn't a statue was in the eyes as well as the jaw that was slowly working…
It took a moment before he spoke and when he did there was a dangerous intensity that crept into his voice…So unlike the kind good doctor, more like a battle wary solder about to face another bloody battle…
"I want you to listen to me, Sherlock, and understand something. You and I both know that the blasted 'game' as you like to call it is on. That's all fine and good. Trust me; I will be right by your side through it all. I will have your back but don't you bloody dare…" John stopped before he took a deep breath, more than one, actually. When he spoke again it was filled with raw emotion. "Don't you dare do what you did with Moriarty. Don't you play me like you did when you faked your death—"
"I honestly don't think I can pull it off again, John…I mean…maybe, sure…but still…" Sherlock began softly.
"Don't! Just don't, Sherlock! I am willing to die for you…Without hesitation…I will always regard you as the best and the wisest man as well as greatest smartarse I have ever known and all I ask of you…All I ask! Is that you are willing to live for me…Don't fake your death again and don't you dare make your death a real one…"
Sherlock took a deep breath; he opened his mouth a couple of times before he finally found his voice. "I…I want to live, John, I do like life…Especially my life…I don't want to fake my death again…I damn sure don't want to leave…or die…I, um, I also want you to live as well…"
John gave a sharp nod, looking quickly away. "Then we understand each other. You and me, Sherlock, I promise that we are going to take this bastard down…together. Always together. Just don't play me, we play him."
With that John was gone, leaving Sherlock alone in the cold boring hospital room.
Together. Yes. Sherlock understood. He…Well, he would do his best not to disappoint his best friend…For John did deserve his best and he didn't want to be too cruel to him…Not, again. He had thought John would have gotten a kick out of his greatest trick…His great practical joke…But his supposed death hadn't been funny to John at all…
He would do his best not to be too cruel to John…though…Even Sherlock knew he could be a cruel bastard.
"You always say such cruel things…Always…" Molly's voice whispered in his head…There had been pure hurt and pain in her tone…
Sherlock put his hands up in front of his face, being careful of his extremely sore and swollen eye.
And Molly…Yet another person in his life that he didn't want to be cruel to…It just seemed to happen…Still he had tried to do better since he had come back after faking his death.
In his attempt not to be so cruel to her he had tried his hardest not to deduce that stupid 'meat dagger' of a man with whom she had been so willing to marry. A man, he had heard whispers, resembled him a little…Hell, the man had even knotted his scarf the way he did! Had dark hair and…none of that mattered, really…He had purposely turned a blind eye because he had no wish to hurt Molly. Though he had clearly noticed that the man seemed…nice…quite a likeable fellow…Well, some people other than him, would think he was a likeable fellow…He seemed like a good man. A man who he had deduced, before he could stop himself, had an extremely ill and dying mum…He loved his mum greatly and did everything he could to make her happy…
Sherlock wasn't sure why it bothered him but 'meat dagger' seemed like he could easily cherish Molly and do his best to make her happy…Maybe even treasure her as she deserved.
To be honest there at first he had looked for signs that his dear pathologist was being ill-used by the man…maybe even seriously abused. He had known that if he had witnessed any bruises upon her flesh…anything that he was not okay with…He would have become dangerous and removed 'meat dagger' permanently from his Molly's life, instantly…
But…That never came about.
'Meat dagger' was not a cruel, extremely cold man and Sherlock knew his Molly deserved someone…Warm…Kind…Like herself…One who could do well in social situations and would not carelessly, thoughtlessly hurt her and others around her with sharp cruel words…
Sherlock removed his hands with a deep sigh and leaned back upon the pillows…Extremely thankful for the pain killers…
Really, he should be seriously cold and cruel towards his precious Molly…Push her out of his life but…he…he couldn't. If John could be selfish enough to take a wife than what was so wrong with him being selfish too? No, not with the wife thing, of course, but with keeping Molly in his life where she belonged.
Also, if he pushed her out of his life now how in the hell would he be able to protect her and keep her safe? Even after he dealt with Moriarty's brother there was always someone else out there to annoy him greatly and they would probably try to use John or his pathologist against him. Sentiment could be such an inefficient bitch sometimes!
When he had kept going to his mind palace to seek out Molly he had known that if he wasn't careful she would become a weakness of his…but when was it said that Sherlock Holmes was always careful?
But perhaps she had always been a weakness, and he had simply missed it…
Molly…
No, he couldn't push her out of his life…Though his brother would tell him that Sherlock would be better off…However, he had a feeling that he wouldn't be. Never would he be better off without his pathologist.
Why? Really, what was it about her that made him seek her out for much needed comfort and strength while he had been tortured? Did he dare look too closely at that mystery?
Sherlock had instantly gone to her when he realized that he wasn't going to escape the hellish torment that he was going through…That he was going to die and the last person he needed to see…was her…his dear sweet pathologist…Perhaps there was something wrong with him…It wasn't very logical…He shouldn't need anyone. Sherlock shouldn't need John as his friend, his best friend in fact…Yet, he did…
He shouldn't need his Molly…and he knew he bloody well did!
Sherlock closed his eyes. He had made Molly a promise to live…For her…And he had lived because of that promise, he was certain of that fact.
Maybe…He was simply a selfish man. He never wanted Molly taken from his life…Oddly enough it wasn't because she willingly gave him body parts…It would be so much easier if that was the reason.
Even if there wasn't a present danger out there…and with his type of life, there would always be some type of danger out there…
It was just he couldn't allow Molly to go somewhere else. She belonged in his mind palace…and more importantly she belonged in his life…
Molly was loyal and true. His steadfast anchor…In his mind palace she had helped him by being there…Always there. Instantly…All the while that damn bastard put his body through hell. It had all seemed so helpless…hopeless…
He hated being vulnerable! Hated it, hated it, and once more for good measure, he hated it!
Sod it all!
He could handle every bruise upon his flesh…Every burn…The ugly marks upon his sore skin…Sherlock could even handle the fact he had been beaten and his back whipped…and finally the needle in his arm to drain him of his blood…
He could handle the pain, the torture and the horrible endless torment of raw physical pain…
Because when it came right down to it, it wasn't because he was superhuman, no, it was because Molly Hooper had been there. Yes, in his mind but she had felt and seemed real to him. She comforted him by simply being herself. She forced him to hold on to his sanity…on to his life. She made him remember to trust her…trust John…For he would be looking for him.
"You will hold on! You will not hurt John…For you know he's doing everything in his power to find you and help you. You will not let him become a failure in this! You will live! For your best friend…and you will bloody live for me as well!" Molly had said that…in his mind palace when he had needed to hear those words…
And John had been looking for him…There had been that trust within himself that told him that John would somehow preform a miracle. That it wasn't just Sherlock who could do a miracle or two but so could Dr. John H. Watson. The terribly romantic doctor just didn't see them as miracles but surprisingly he did. Sherlock hadn't even believed in miracles until John had entered his life…He hadn't even believed in heroes…He still wasn't sure they weren't a complete myth but sometimes John made him doubt what had once been a firm belief.
Today, John had indeed rescued him. Had saved him once more and Molly had helped his best friend find him. In fact, Molly was the reason he had been rescued! For she had remembered some random cottage that Moriarty had pointed out once!
His dear pathologist…His Molly…His…His woman?
Oh, damn it all…Had he opened up a Pandora's Box without meaning to? He hadn't meant to…Really he didn't…It was just with the torture and all…Now; he had all these damn meaningless feelings that shouldn't be there when it came to his Molly. How did he ignore it without being cruel to his woman? OH GOD! Did he just call Molly 'his woman' AGAIN while he thought to himself?
DAMN IT, he did! What the hell was wrong with him? He was better than this!
He needed to close that damn box once more…He didn't need all these treacherous emotions he was completely unaccustomed to. Surely, he was much too logical and much too cold…as well as cruel…to have them. To feel this strange warmth when he thought about Molly…To have these thoughts of her smile and the gentle way she'd…No! Damn it! Seriously, he wanted to rage and take his frustration out on Molly for this damn weakness he seemed to have developed…Yet, he also would much rather prefer to rip his own heart out of his chest than to hurt her.
What was he to do?
Sherlock needed Molly. Always…
He hated being helpless…vulnerable and all these feelings that the aftermath of the torture seemed to awaken or at least made him sit up and take notice…
Really, what was he to do? He didn't want to need Molly but he did…
It looked as if he was screwed. Seriously screwed.
At least he had vengeance upon Moriarty's brother to look forward to.
With that Sherlock smiled happily and that was exactly how John found him when he reentered the room.
~*~END OF PART 4~*~
