Thank you all so, so much for all your reviews and comments, I have to admit I never realised Mycroft was so well loved, quite a few of you are concerned that I don't let him get hurt too much.
Well the waiting is over, a day early, hope you all hung in there. Let's get on with the story and see how it all unfolds.
Chapter 10
As Sherlock pushed open the door and walked in his eyes scanned the room taking in as much detail as he could. The killer was perched on an old desk opposite the door, obviously waiting for him, gun trained inexpertly on him. Sherlock calculated the odds of disarming him, without being killed or seriously injured, but due to the distance between them they were low.
He was relieved to see Mycroft was alive albeit somewhat worse for wear. He had been handcuffed to a chair and beaten. One eye had almost swollen shut, there were red marks across his face that would soon become bruising and blood was dripping from his mouth to his chin.
He looked up at Sherlock and tried to smile, wincing as he did, 'Brother, how kind of you to drop by.'
'No problem, Mycroft, anytime.'
'So, Mr Holmes Jnr makes an appearance. Have to say I expected you ten minutes ago, what took you so long?'
'I apologise, traffic in London is becoming even more of a nightmare.' Sherlock replied appraising the killer and walking slowly round the room towards him.
'Ah, ah,ah stay over there next to your brother.' He waved him away using his gun. 'I do have to admit that I am sorry to actually see you here. I have no axe to grind with you but now you are here you'll have to stay and take part. I'm sure I don't need to fill you in in the details of why we're here.'
'I think I have got the gist of it, but would love to hear it from your perspective. There's always something I miss you see,' said Sherlock playing for time.
'Oh no, no, no I know what you're trying to do. Playing for time until Scotland Yard or MI6 get here and somehow save the day. I don't think so. Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to kill you, quite soon I'm afraid. I'm killing you first so your brother can see and understand the consequences of his actions. Eventually I will kill him and then no doubt be killed by whoever is going to be out there waiting for me. Suicidal tendencies, see, maybe they do run in my family. Once I set myself on this path I didn't kid myself that there would be any other way out of it.'
'So any final words Mr Holmes. And don't make some long speech to delay things or I'll just shoot you anyway.'
'Given that you are not expecting any of us to make it out of this room alive saying any final words seems a bit unnecessary. So if you're going to kill me you'd better just go ahead.'
'Fair enough...'
It was at that moment there was a cry from the doorway and Molly rushed in and flew at the killer. Her fury caught him unawares initially and she beat him on the chest with her fists. 'Don't you dare, don't you dare...' she cried.
Sherlock had started to move towards them but the killer grabbed Molly twisting her round holding her across her chest. He pointed the gun at her head, 'no you don't, move back right now. So, who the hell do we have here?'
Molly was breathing heavily tears streaked down her face as she looked at Sherlock.
'Molly, I told you not to come,' he said softly to her before turning his attention back to the man holding her. 'Please, let her go. She has nothing...nothing to do with this. If you kill her you're as bad as Mycroft, as bad as the agent who killed that girl.'
Molly wriggled in his grasp her hands clutching at his arm but not managing to budge his grip.
'But Mr Holmes she has everything to do with this now, she brought herself into it. I didn't invite her. I..I..what have..' He staggered back a step the hand holding the gun swinging round to point towards Mycroft. 'Drugged...you...drugged me.' He partially lost his grip on Molly and as he fired the gun towards Mycroft she pushed his arm up so the bullet flew harmlessly into the ceiling.
He fell back heavily taking Molly down with him to the floor. As they landed the gun fired for a second time.
Time seemed to stop for Sherlock, all the breath in his body was sucked out as though he had been placed in a vacuum. He tried to move towards them both but it was as though he were walking through treacle. There was just one thought screaming in his head, Molly!
He jolted back to reality as his knees hit the concrete floor at the side of the two of them. Molly was struggling to free herself from the tangle that they had landed in. He pulled her roughly towards him, eyes scanning her for any injuries, before wrapping her in a bear hug that almost squeezed the breath out of her.
'It's Okay Sherlock, it's Okay, I'm fine,' but she was holding him just as tightly one hand in his hair gripping the back of his head.
Eventually he stood them both up looking down at the killer. He could now see the syringe sticking out of his upper arm where Molly had obviously put it.
'Fast acting sedative,' she said when she saw where he was looking, 'stole it from work before I followed you here. He should be out for at least two hours.'
Sherlock's relief was washed aside by a sudden surge of anger, 'yes and why are you here Molly? I clearly told you to stay behind. This was stupid, reckless, you could have been killed.'
She pulled away from him as though he had slapped her. 'I could have been killed. What exactly was your plan Mr Brainbox Genius, just walk in with no weapon other than your smart mouth coz that plan was working out so well for you. Good job I came along to save the day.'
Sherlock opened his mouth to respond when Mycroft broke in, 'yes, sorry, I do hate to interrupt such a sweet and sentimental reunion but do you think you could possibly release me and notify the police and MI6 who are, as we speak, planning on storming the building complete with CS gas that isn't actually required.'
Sherlock crouched down behind Mycroft's back quickly picking the handcuffs, 'yes and Molly needs a blanket.'
Both Mycroft and Molly looked at him in complete bemusement, 'I'm sorry, what?' Said Mycroft eventually.
'A blanket, Molly needs a blanket. Keep up.' He helped Mycroft to stand before he turned and grabbing Molly's hand he made his way to the exit.
'Sherlock, why would I need a blanket?'
'You're in shock, or at least you soon will be. Lestrade tells me that's what people need when they're in shock, a blanket, for some reason it's normally an orange one though I can't see why the colour makes a difference.'
MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH
Ten minutes later as Molly sat in the back of an ambulance, blanket on shoulders, sipping a cup of hot, sweet tea she had to admit she did feel better.
She watched Sherlock talking to Lestrade and some other guy she didn't recognise. His hands were flying all over the place as he was no doubt informing them both of what had happened and their stupidity in not working it out sooner or getting there quicker.
Molly was just relieved he was alive and OK. As he'd left her, in the morgue, she had known without doubt that she would follow him. It was just a matter of getting her things before sneaking upstairs and obtaining the sedative. She might have to see if Mycroft could do something about that. She didn't want anyone getting in trouble when it was noticed it was missing.
At the thought of Mycroft she looked behind her, into the body of the ambulance, where Mycroft was being treated for his injuries. There was nothing life threatening, nothing that wouldn't heal. He was as bad as his brother though, snapping at the ambulance crew, barking orders at his PA who was busy texting out his instructions.
She wondered if any part of him was sorry for everything that had happened. If he hadn't taken that decision all those years ago none of this would have come about. Maybe Sherlock would bring it up with him some day and let her know. She was still a bit too in awe of Mycroft to ask him herself.
That brought her back round to Sherlock. He had finished berating Lestrade and was stalking back over to her, all ruffled hair and coat billowing. The lights around the warehouse casting shadows, emphasising his amazing cheekbones. She wondered whether it was wrong to feel horny so soon after such a frightening occurrence, but then decided she didn't care. She wanted Sherlock Holmes and she wanted him right now!
So, which is the better cliff hanger, this one or the last one ;).
For those who might be wondering I got the idea for the sedative injected into the upper arm from the unaired pilot episode of Sherlock. He didn't seem to notice he'd been injected so neither did our killer.
The story is winding down now and I'll post the last chapter at the weekend.