Notes:
Soon, i will have finished school forever, will get nice long chapters done for both my fics, make all the videos on my lists. Watch all the sherlock's over and over and have no homework or obligations until uni starts in March. *sigh*.
Until then, i got this done for you guys, it was meant to have another part but now that just means more chapters. YAY! =)
Beginning of the request that will lead up to the ending.
But first, amazed and relieved on everyone loving the dog. Yay! Cause its here to stay!
Thanks to all you awesome people who favd/alerted and such: PertPeeve, hildal, lifesrace, lady555, Shaida01, CorpseGrl, Crimson and Chrome 42, Renaissancebooklover108, candy-girl5, digitalflute, Cuckoo's Nest, Hyadum, Tsume-en-Force, angharabbit, truelondoner123, Novella91, Cyrina and megsterleigh
And to all those SUPER-amazing people who left me such wonderful reviews!: Irene90, Guest (i thought long and hard about the dog's name, and thought this would be really funny and sherlock-like. Hope you agree ;) ), AdaYuki, MorbidbyDefault (Gladestone was my default, default. Think i came up with something both humorous and sherlock-like though. Hope you agree :) ), booknerdhere, LadyK1138, SammyKatz, Catie501 (this ones blood loss! And again, thanks so much for your wonderful support!), lifesrace (again, thank you so so much. Guilty pleasure? What about me? I'm the ones who think and write them. hehe! I was sick of reading others and wanted to do my own ;) ), Guest (not Johnlock, sorry :( ), Brightpath2, Renaissancebooklover108, piper (Guest) (thank you so much for reading and reviewing! And so much for such fantastic comments! And yes, he is defiantly stuck with the dog :) ), candy-girl5 and megsterleigh
X.
Molly's small car fitted with ease as rubbish trucks had to visit the alleyway full of bins behind the major restaurants and such of London.
The car door opened just enough of a gap for a Sherlock to crawl and haul himself up onto the back seat. The dog leaped in afterwards, laying alongside and resting its head on the hand of its master that kept a pathetic amount of pressure on the wound.
Oh come on! It can't be that smart!, Molly thought. But said stupid dog blinked to look at her with deep-brown expectant eyes as if to say; "what are you waiting for woman? Drive!"
Molly quickly turned back around in her seat and immediately shot out of the alley, a vague idea of where to go and what to do as an unconscious Sherlock lay bleeding out in the back seat of her otherwise pristine car, God damn it Sherlock!
Sherlock managed to open his eyes briefly as the car came to a stop and an obnoxious beeping noise sounded as the door opened and shut with the engine still running.
They were at Bart's. Sherlock knew this because lying down on the back seat of the car gave him a mockingly clear view of the building. He knew the particular part well, could almost feel the muscle memory of standing on the edge of its rooftop, the horrible gut-wrenching sensation of falling. Sherlock didn't have the energy to fight the tears that began to grow and slowly trace down his cheeks.
Oh John, look what I've done.
Sherlock heard a whine emanate from the soft head on his hand, giving an uncomfortable pressure where it was need most on his abdomen. Good girl, he tried to say but it only got as far as a tired thought.
Sherlock knew he was dying this time and immediately felt horribly guilty about Molly, how upsetting it will be for her to return to a bleed-dry body in her car and the absolute panic of what to do next.
Three wasted years of not-John for no reason anyway. Sherlock screamed at his body to stop being so selfish. Don't you dare! You need to get back to John and show him it's all okay and you're sorry but it was for him and the others. Die now and you die for nothing. Stay alive! Stay alive, stay alive, stayin' alive...Damn.
Moriarty would never let him go, would forever be there waiting for him to slip, mocking him.
Once more Sherlock found himself fighting death, once more for John and those he loved. Once more for Molly.
The bags of blood Molly had admittedly stolen from Bart's sat in a cooler in her fridge. The one she had already got into Sherlock on the way back to her flat had just caught him from death.
Molly all but dragged him up the front steps, apologising the whole way. Eventually they made it to her bathroom and Molly quickly removed his opened coat and pulled off the blood soaked shirt. He was out cold and didn't give a flinch as she slowly peeled off the last-minute padding she had placed on the wound when getting the bag of blood into him outside of Bart's.
Grabbing the emergency kit that now lived in Molly's bathroom, she disinfected her hands, pulled on gloves and grabbed a medical torch, shinning it across the gaping slash in Sherlock's side.
'Damn,' she whispered quietly when noticing the abnormal glint within the blood, she had suspected as much.
Molly took slow, calming breaths as she gathered the tools she needed, reminding herself to not panic and rush. Besides, she had done this sort of medical procedure an un-countable number of times in her career, just...never on a live patient.
Washing and dabbing the blood out-of-the-way, Molly shifted her position slightly and slipped the medical tweezers and prongs into the wound, Sherlock's eyes didn't open but his back arched up as he let out a hoarse cry of pain. Molly stopped herself from apologising profusely, instead maintaining her concentration on removing the first shard of glass from the abdomen wound. Sherlock gave little high-pitched whimpers of protests as his bloodied hands weakly tried to remove hers.
'It's okay Sherlock, it's me, it's me. I have to get the glass out and I'm sorry but it is going to hurt.'
'No', he gasped feebly but it turned into another yell as Molly slipped out another shard, this one larger as she placed it aside, continuing the mantra of washing and dabbing.
Working efficiently, Molly removed sixteen shards of glass from Sherlock's head and abdomen combined. It had taken fifteen minutes, during which Molly had bit her tongue as Sherlock's cries grew weaker and weaker until the all but stopped as he fell unconscious once more.
After suturing the gashes, Molly carefully dragged him to the couch, thankful for once on how dangerously light he was, but still just too heavy.
Everything turned into a blur as Molly hooked up an IV bag and more blood, remembering at the last-minute to let the dog in from outside. It padded quietly over to the couch were Sherlock lay and sat, keeping its head on the cushion near its master's shoulder.
Molly was far too tired and told herself she couldn't do anything more for Sherlock, just glad he was alive as she stumbled to bed and fell unconscious in her blankets that still smelled of Sherlock from the last time he had slept there.
It wasn't until mid-morning the next day that Molly woke up, feeling both exhausted and revived at the same time. She padded out to the lounge, expecting Sherlock to be gone for some reason, but he was there, laid out boneless on her couch, hooked up to the almost empty bags and breathing soundly. The dog lay beside the couch on the floor, always guarding.
'Hello,' Molly said to the animal begrudgingly wondering what on earth could have possessed Sherlock to pick up a ruddy dog. If he expected her to look after it, he had another thing coming. A second later Toby lifted his head out from beside the hound, squished contently between dog and couch.
Molly glared at both animals, particularly her cat, 'Traitor.'
Toby's ear gave a flick and the dogs' tail thumped a few beats out on the floor.
After taking care of the detective and getting ready for her day, moving to the kitchen Molly found the post it pad, ripping off an old note from Sherlock and taking the yellow notepad to the coffee table. She wrote a note to Sherlock, explaining she was shopping if he happened to wake up at all while she was out. Reminding him not to try and do anything and to go back to sleep.
Molly sighed, feeling slightly was going shopping, but she had originally made plans a month ago to see her brother in the city and decided while in the shower that she was still going to go as during the past three years, Molly had learnt that an unconscious Sherlock on her couch should not reconstruct her whole week.
With a meaningful warning point of her finger at annoying best friends dog and cat, Molly headed out the door with one last look to the sleeping detective; a reoccurring situation that had become relatively normal in Molly's life, although admittedly not in the context she had originally imagined.
When arriving home, Molly found the yellow post-it notepad resting on unconscious Sherlock's stomach under one hand, the other with pen still lose in grip and half curled in the sleeping German Sheperd's fur.
Slipping out the notepad from his elegant and long fingers, Molly smiled as she played out the flick-book Sherlock had drawn on each page. Molly took it to her room, placing it in her bedside draw where it would be safe. She would come to the habit of bringing it out now and then for years to come, the small cartoon of the running dog always making her smile.
Between glancing from the television to Sherlock, down to her chopping board and back to Sherlock again, he had woken up and was contently running his fingers along the length of one of the German Sheperd's ear. The absolute pleasure on the dogs face, coupled with the small smile and brightness in Sherlock's eyes almost made Molly forgive the half-grown puppy immediately.
She would not be jealous of a dog and the small chuckle it produced from Sherlock when he stopped his stroking and it nudged his hand for more, "I didn't say stop". As Sherlock brought both hands forward to roughly rub the dog's head with mock anger, his mouth transformed into that rare smile that Molly had only on occasion had been privileged enough to witness witnessed; the one that lopped his lips and scrunched his nose in a slightly child-like way.
Sherlock caught her starring and Molly quickly diverted her gaze back to the chopping board, she had a vague memory of attempting to cut spring onions.
'Molly?'
She looked back up to him, his smile gone, replaced instead by drawn eyebrows and serious eyes that glistened with unshed tears. 'Your astounding, thank you.'
She felt herself blush and looked to the dog with a superior face, beat that. The dog seemed to huff.
In the end they had scrambled eggs and toast for dinner. Sherlock managed half of his before giving the rest to the pup who wolfed down the remainder. Molly was frustrated she didn't mind, she never imagined herself being a dog person, but the pup had grown on her in alarming amounts over the course of the night.
Molly was situated beneath Sherlock's feet at the end of her couch, massaging lightly as she flicked from channel to channel. The pup had settled back down after being let outside for an hour and was now happy to leave Sherlock under Molly's care as it dozed across the lounge.
'What's its name?' Molly asked a tranced Sherlock from the ministrations on his feet.
'Hmmm?'
Molly choked back a giggle, taking note of the pathetic state of Sherlock from a simple foot massage. 'The German Sheperd. Please tell me it has a name.'
Sherlock cracked open an eye, looking from Molly to pup and closing it again, 'Dog.'
Molly laughed which caused Sherlock to open his eyes and frown as if he had said "Princess" or something similarly ridiculous.
Molly tugged his toe mockingly, 'No, seriously Sherlock. What's its name?'
He continued to look at her without an ounce of humour. 'I just told you; dog.'
Molly now frowned, 'Dog?'
He gave an exaggerated huff.
'But it's a girl.' She protested.
'So?'
Molly was stunned, not sure what to say other than, But it's a girl! You can't just call it...Looking over to it; the animal was watching the two intently, almost with an annoyed expression about why they were saying its name repeatedly.
Molly sighed, leaning back against the couch and moving on to massage Sherlock's other foot; she couldn't even remember starting the first. 'That's not the name you give to dogs Sherlock, especially a lady.'
'It is if it's my dog.' He finished simply, and the more Molly thought about it, the more it actually made sense
Love to hear your thoughts!
Hope you all enjoyed that and see the humour in Sherlock calling the dog dog as i do :)
I really think you all like what i have coming up for you guys. Don't know how long the wait will be, but us Sherlockians are pretty good with waiting...