Don't hate me for the title!

on tumblr? my personal one is thesecitystreets and my fanfic one is sherlockian87

:)

Reichenbach

The smoke was beginning to waft up into the afternoon air. The sound of the wood and metal crackling cut through the silence.

"You can't be serious Sherlock!" John yelled at him, "That is NOT a plan! Jesus!"

Molly hadn't spoken a word. The shock of what she had done had stripped her of her ability for speech. Even her mind couldn't conjure proper, legible thoughts.
John stormed about the roof, looking for a safer way down. But he found nothing. Suddenly he turned and faced Sherlock, "This is what it was like for you, wasn't it?"
Sherlock glared at him, knowing exactly to what he was referring to, "The building of Bart's wasn't exactly burning John!"

He gave him a withering look, "I need to know."

Sherlock scoffed, "Now is neither the time nor the place!"

John stepped towards him, his face etched with rage, "We are about to die! I'm quite certain that that makes this the perfect time! Tell me!"

Sherlock's lips were a thin, narrow line. Over the crackling of the flames Molly began to hear another sound. A strange sound, a different sound. She narrowed her eyes, focusing on the foggy air that surrounded them. She spotted a large dark shadow. Just as Sherlock was about to open his mouth to speak she gave his hand a great tug. He turned away from John, his eyes following her hand as she pointed towards the horizon. A helicopter had flown into view.

"Mycroft."

Suddenly the roof began to shift; the building had started to collapse. The helicopter moved closer. Sherlock turned to Molly, his hand tightening around her own, his eyes locked on hers.

"We will still have to jump. The helicopter won't be able to get too close because of the heat. Hold on to me."

Nodding her head she wrapped her arms about him, burying her face in his chest.

"John, take my hand."
The helicopter was now hovering above them, at an angle. A rope had been dropped. Just as the roof gave way, the building imploding, John and Sherlock jumped, both reaching out for the rope. Molly clung to Sherlock, far too frightened to even think of letting go of him.

I don't think I am ever going to be afraid of anything ever again!

For a brief moment she felt the tug of gravity, and then a tight jerk as Sherlock's hand grasped onto the rope. She then felt them being lifted into the helicopter as it moved away from the burning building.

"For God's sake! I am fine! Stop putting this bloody blanket around me!" Sherlock shoved the orange blanket away from him, his eyes moving over to where Molly was sitting as a nurse checked her over. She was seated in a large chair, huddling under an orange blanket. Her eyes were unfocused, glazed over slightly.
They were all sitting in one of the many rooms of the Safe House. For less then ten seconds John had tried to be angry with Mary for going against what he had asked of her, but he couldn't help but be anything but pleased by the fact that she had played a very large part in helping them survive the meeting with Brook. No one was hurt. The short exposure to the smoke hadn't been damaging. Physically each of them were all right. It was psychologically that was another matter. Sherlock stood and walked over to Molly.

"She's fine." He sneered at the nurse.

Mycroft cut in, "Sherlock, let them attend to her."

"I will attend to her myself! She is perfectly fine!" With that said he scooped her up bridal style and carried her out of the room. As he walked away he overheard Mary say to Mycroft, "Let them go. Perhaps this is what they need."

Molly curled into Sherlock, one arm draped around his neck. He reeked of burning embers. Once they are in their bedroom he closed and locked the door behind them. Ever so gently he laid her down upon the bed. He hovered over her, cupping her face in his hands, their eyes meeting.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded, slowly, "I will be."

This was the first time that she had spoken in over an hour.

Sherlock closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers. Stretching himself out beside her he pulled her flush against him.

"Molly Hooper, you are the bravest woman I have ever known." He spoke this as he pressed kisses along her shoulder, then on to her collarbone.

"Sherlock!" Her tone is desperate.

He raised his head, looking down at her.

"I need you."

His mind instantly grasped on to what she means.

"Molly, I don't think it is wise for us to—"

She cut him off by grabbing tightly on to the front of his shirt, "I need you. And I think you need me too."

He nodded before she pulled him down to her for a hungry kiss. They work frantically to remove each other's clothing. Molly is frantic to feel him, to feel Sherlock inside of her. To let her know that she is real, that she is human, that she is not a terrible person for killing a man.

"He deserved to die Molly." Sherlock panted against her skin as he pressed himself against her, "Brook needed to die. He would have killed you. It was self-defense."
Molly doesn't reply, instead only pulling Sherlock closer, wanting to feel as much of him as she can. Although he is aware of how much she needs him and wants him, Sherlock keeps his movements slow, drawing out each sensation, before at last slipping inside of her. Her tears mix with the sweat of their bodies. She had hitched her leg up, pulling him deeper into her.

"Fuck!" She whimpered, her body shuddering slightly.

He leaned forward, his lips pressed to hers, their tongues dancing as he began to increase his speed.

"Yes! Oh God, yes!" Her fingernails dug into his skin.

He kissed away her tears. She becomes undone beneath him, crying out Sherlock's name. With one final hard thrust he comes, her name on his lips. He moved to lift himself off of her but she holds on to him. They pant into each other's mouths as they begin to kiss again. Her hands are running through his curls, her fingers brushing them away from his forehead. He nestles himself between her breasts. His eyes are closed, exhaustion beginning to take over.

"I love you Sherlock Holmes," She murmured softly to him, not caring if he didn't hear her, the words needed to be said, "I love you."