"You have got to be kidding me!" Molly Hooper yelled loudly at her date Sherlock Holmes. They were running wildly for their lives down an alley in London both of them covered in blood stained and tattered evening clothes. Molly had always hoped that her first date with Sherlock would be special and unique but she hadn't thought for an instant that her evening would turn out the way it did.
"I did not sign up for this Sherlock Holmes!" a gun fired a few meters behind them causing the couple to duck in sync while continuing to run.
"What were you expecting?" Sherlock yelled back. He had much longer legs than Molly had making it easy for him to out run her. He slowed a tad throwing his left arm around her waist to urge her forward while they rounded a corner down a main street.
"I wasn't expecting to be chased down a road by international jewel thieves!" They could hear a male voice yelling behind them in French at other people who were slowly gaining on them.
"You're dating a detective! This was bound to happen eventually!" another gun fired behind them as they careened around a second corner back down another alleyway.
"Sorry!" Molly called to a man who she had run off the side of the road in an attempt to keep up with Sherlock.
"We've ended up right back where we started!" Molly would have groaned if she wasn't so out of breath. The Royal Opera House loomed into view as they continued twisting and turning in and out of small crevices between buildings and debris. However, they could both plainly hear sirens over the sound of their heavy breathing.
"Don't worry, that was the plan all along!" Sherlock explained hastily in between gasps. He was a very fit man but with the amount of running they had been doing this evening, Sherlock couldn't help but continue his labored breathing.
They continued to dodge trash cans and people as they ran towards the Opera House, both of them oblivious to anything other than the chase.
"Lestrade is going to meet us there!" Sherlock yelled to Molly once they hit the main road leading to the theater. "We should be able to-" But Sherlock's voice was cut off by the sound of a gunshot much closer to them than any of the others. Sherlock shouted something unintelligible before they both hit the ground, Sherlock having pulled Molly down with him as he fell.
"Sherlock!" Molly sat up immediately, ignoring the pulse echoing through her head from where she had smacked it. "Sherlock! Are you hurt, what's…." Molly's eyes widened when she saw her hands covered in blood. Sherlock's blood. Sherlock had been shot.
***Earlier that day***
"What do you think then, Sherlock?" the consulting detective was standing in front of a desk at Scotland Yard, his long fingers tapping an insistent rhythm on the wood. He was only half paying attention to Lestrade's rants about jewelry thefts, instead thinking about a certain forensic pathologist. It was strange, ever since he and Molly had kissed, he never fully turned his thoughts away from her, rather was pleased when an image of her laughing would sneak its way out of the folds of his mind palace. He was intrigued that the thought of a date with her tonight didn't bring on the reaction of eye rolling as it would if John mentioned a date with….what was her name again? Oh, that's right, Mary….but it triggered a happy sensation of butterflies floating around in his stomach.
"Sherlock?" Lestrade asked again, breaking the detective out of his reverie. John had decided against accompanying Sherlock to the DI's office as it would only take an hour at most. Unfortunately, this meant that Sherlock actually had to pay attention to Lestrade whenever he decided to speak.
"I've already told you, I've taken the case."
"Yes, but," Lestrade moved his hand about as if he was going to snatch the words he wanted out of thin air. "They haven't been caught, not once! No trace of them what-so-ever besides the missing jewels and their calling card. They're like ghosts." Sherlock rolled his eyes, impatient with the detective inspector's babbling. Is this what it's like to be an ordinary person, having to actually listen and specifically process every word? Sherlock had to repress a shudder before interrupting.
"Trust me Lestrade," he pulled his leather gloves on each hand and made to tie his trademark blue scarf around his neck. "They are nothing but thieves, and bad ones at that. I won't bore you with the details, but I can guarantee their arrest tonight. Just make sure your men are at The Royal Opera House by ten o'clock this evening." Sherlock finished the knot around his neck and strode toward the door leading to the main exit of the building.
"And bring the paramedics. Actors never react well when their performances are interrupted."
"Hey Molly, its Sharon, just calling to make sure-" Beep!
"Molly, its Father, give me a call when you-" Beep!
Molly sat impatiently in front of her answering machine, skipping through message after message searching for anything she hadn't heard yet. The task was a tedious one, but, she reminded herself, one that had to be done. The dead can wait to be examined, but their families are less patient.
"Hi Molly, this is Toni, I'm just returning your call…" Molly's hand paused over the skip button, her heart beating a little faster. She hadn't expected her old roommate to call her back so quickly. She felt almost childish for snooping around like this, but she couldn't help but listen to the message with bated breath.
"…about the Les Miserables tickets that you asked about. Just so you know, giving you information like this is technically against the rules, but I'll let it slide for now. What's unemployment between old friends? Anyways, it seems like there are two tickets reserved under the name 'Holmes', not that it makes much of a difference. There isn't a first name but the only Holmes we've ever seen attend any theatrical performance is a Mr. Mycroft Holmes, but we've been told he's away on business. The tickets apparently were reserved in advance, so whoever Mycroft is giving them to is bloody lucky. They cost about half my salary when they're reserved. I'm not sure why you wanted all this info Molls, and I'm not sure I want to know either. But hey, next time you ring me up make it a personal call and we can get lunch, yeah? Laters!" Beep!
Molly smiled. Most of her friends from Uni had gone on to study other areas of medicine, all dealing with patients that were actually alive when they were done with the procedures, so she never had time to catch up with any of them. It was nice to hear an old friend's voice, even through an old garbled answering machine.
She stood up, stretching the cramped muscles in her lower back, looking forward to her the nice mug of tea that was ready for her, courtesy of a Miss Mary Morstan. Mary had been looking for ways to make up for their failed 'girls night', and ever since she mentioned that her tea pot had broken, Molly would always find a cup of steaming tea waiting for her after her break. Even though, in Molly's eyes, the argument was all water under the bridge, she appreciated the gesture and normally made the tea last until she got home that night. Tonight wasn't any different, as she made her way to the kitchen counter and gingerly sipped the raspberry tea out of its recyclable container.
"Mmm." Molly sighed contentedly out loud, letting the tea warm up her system. She still hadn't decided what to wear for her and Sherlock's first date tonight but she knew she'd figure something out before time ran out. What was one to wear on a date with the world's only consulting detective?
She scratched behind Toby's ear absentmindedly, musing over the limited amount of dressy clothes in her wardrobe and finally deciding that it would be better to shower first and then decide. Molly hummed while setting her tea down and picking up her startled cat to bring into her room. She liked having Toby with her, it made her feel calm, and if anything, calm was what she needed now.
Toby grumbled a bit, squirming in Molly's grasp unsure of how to react to his master's sudden closeness. Molly laughed.
"Relax, you silly kitty. I'm just going to take a shower and then, once I've got something nice on, I'll feed you your dinner, how's that sound?" Toby only purred in response, seeming pleased with the idea of food. Molly laughed again and closed the door to her bedroom, placing her furry feline on her bed as she went.
Unfortunately for Molly Hooper, she didn't realize that as her bedroom door was closing, her front door was just being opened with the unmistakable pop of a lock just being picked.
A/N- I've really got to stop making all my authors note's apologies. But for now, here's another one. I'm REALLY, really sorry about not updating for a while! I swear I have all the ideas and the plot laid out but I just forget to post them. Not buying it, huh? Darn, I was hoping that would work. Well, cross my heart I will be updating really soon! And I don't mean really soon as in "three months" I mean really soon as in within the next 4 days. Write me angry letters if I don't post within that time. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this little chapter, I'm sorry it's not so action packed but prepare for the next chapter! That one's going to be fun! See you all real soon!
XOXOXO Molly
PS- Tiny little shout out to Kim, thanks for being there for me to rant to. Love you!