First, I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this little collection of mine. I have been remiss in showing my gratitude, but I appreciate every single one of you! Your support encourages me to keep writing! To the people who have sent me prompts, I will try to write those when I can, but graduate school is keeping me pretty busy at the moment. I will get to them, though, I promise!
This was prompt fill for paulthomasquells. I really love writing protective Sherlock, so I really enjoyed this one. :)
Molly was having a rather marvelous dream (involving a pair of spectacular blue eyes and a head of dark, curly hair) when a noise awoke her. She blinked groggily for a moment, brushing a stray hair out of her eyes, before jumping to attention. The sound of shuffling footsteps was coming from her sitting room.
As quietly as she could with her limbs still sore from sleep, she grabbed her phone from the table beside her and hurried into her bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. She started to call the police but knew they would probably take too long to reach her flat. Her hands shook as she dialed the first person that popped into her mind, praying that he was not too absorbed in his current case to pick up.
She heard a click on the other end before a voice answered. "Molly, what do you need? I am in the middle of a particular exciting experiment at the mom–."
"Sherlock! S-someone's inside m-my flat!" she trembled, filling with terror as she heard movement outside the bathroom. She dropped the phone and scrambled to retrieve it, missing most of the detective's reply.
"– on my way. Where are you?"
"I've l-locked myself in the b-bathroom. I'm… I'm sorry to b-bother y-you, but…." Unable to speak anymore, she wrapped her arms around her knees and sobbed silently into her legs, still worried that whoever was in her flat would discover her hiding place. She could hear Sherlock whispering words of comfort in her ear.
"Molly, I'm almost there. Just stay on the phone with me. Everything will be fine."
She gently rocked back and forth, listening to his voice, until she heard a loud thump from the front of her flat, followed by running footsteps approaching her bedroom. A series of harsh yells and masculine grunts caused her to fold in on herself, trying to block out the sounds.
Eventually, there was an insistent knocking on her bathroom door, and she hesitantly raised her head, hoping that Sherlock was on the other side. "Molly, it's me. Please open the door."
His gentle tone surprised her. She was used to his terse and insensitive demeanor. She rushed over, fumbling with the lock because her hands were not quite steady yet. As soon as she pulled open the door, strong arms embraced her, crushing her small form to a very solid chest.
"It's okay now. You're safe, Molly," he chanted the words over and over again like a prayer, as if assuring himself of her status as well.
After several minutes, he pulled back enough to cup her face with his hands, brushing away the remaining tears with his thumb. She glanced past him into her room and saw a large man passed out on her carpet, pieces of her jewelry scattered around him, where he had dropped them when confronted by Sherlock. She hugged him again, feeling safer in his arms than anywhere else. They stayed like that until Scotland Yard arrived to apprehend the thief.
Once they had both given their statements to the police, Sherlock accompanied Molly back to 221B. He did not want her to be alone, and she agreed to stay with him.
When she moved to lie down on the sofa, he shook his head and gestured down the hallway, leading her to his bedroom. "Sleep here tonight. It will be more comfortable, and I hardly use it anyway." She changed into the long t-shirt he had provided for her and climbed into the bed. Although the experience had been awful, she still felt a small thrill at the idea that she was in Sherlock's room.
Exhausted, she could not stop herself from crying again. She heard the door open and felt the bed shift, before long arms wrapped around her once more. Sherlock continued whispering softly into her hair, and she drifted off to the sound of his deep baritone.
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