Juze: lol, did you get a sneak peek at this chapter? Read on, my friend.
Childoftheriver: exactly! Poe is brilliant, I don't now why more people don't like him. And yea, it's easy to figure out how you feel about someone once they are in danger, hence why we put Molly through so much crap. Lol.
Patemalah21: yay for female empowerment is right. I feel like if I were in that situation, it'd either be 'accept I'm going to die' or 'do something to get out of here if I can'. I'm far too stubborn to just accept something, I have a feeling Molly is the same way.
Nosside: lol, aw.
Cutiepie030: thanks, for some reason I like cliffhangers. Had you are enjoying it.
Flyaway213: HAHAHAHAHA! Nice.
Oh yea, I don't own anything Sherlock or Poe...sad, sad day.
Chapter ten
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Samantha had counted to one hundred like Molly told her to do. She nervously stood up, and pushed open the large metal door. In the distance, she saw the large man operating a crane, and dropping a large pile of dirt onto the ground. She couldn't help but stare, her stomach ached. She turned and began to run, when she tripped over a long rope. The action waved through the rope, and a loud metal bell sounded next to her. She turned back around to see the man spot her, and start in her direction. Samantha scrambled to her feet and took off. She thought about what Molly had said. 'Don't look back.' She raced to the gravel road and ignored the sharp rocks that dug into her feet as she ran.
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They had been driving for what seemed like ages, with no new houses in sight. Lestrade went on and on about the old woman possibly being a conspirator, and Sherlock argued back that he would've known, had that been the case. The two men were snapping insults at each other when John eyed something approaching them. He saw a bloodied young girl with a tattered shirt and underwear shakily running on the gravel. Her feet were dirty, bloody and bare.
''SHUT IT, YOU TWO! LOOK!" John shouted and pointed to the girl. They stopped the car, and Greg raced to stop her. John wasn't far behind, and Sherlock was stopped in his tracks just outside the car. They reached her. As she saw the flashing lights, she collapsed into John's arms, sobbing violently. He embraced her awkwardly.
''You're Samantha Gaines, right? It's okay, we've got you, we've got you. You're safe now.'' John muttered sweetly to the trembling girl. She looked up after a moment, to see the long line of police cars. Tears fell from her eyes as she weakly smiled at John. Soon, she was ripped into the grip of another man, she looked up at him with fear. His deep blue eyes pierced hers.
''Was there another woman there? Did you see anyone else?" Sherlock asked her. She nodded fervently.
''Another lady. She looked like me. Molly. Her name was Molly. She said people were looking for me. She said she had friends who would find us and she could get me out and- and...'' she was cut off by the tears that kept pouring from her. Her lip trembled as she broke into another fit of sobs. Greg brought a blanket to her from the car, and wrapped it around her. She lifted her head to look at Sherlock. Sherlock sighed, his face falling downward. 'Was.'
''Are-are you one of her friends? She said her friend was a detective. A-are you her friend?" She asked, stuttering through her words. He nodded slightly, looking at her in confusion.
''She said something about A Tell-Tale Heart. That story by Poe? She said you'd understand it.'' Samantha said quietly. Sherlock looked up and down the road, he saw a large man huskily trotting after the girl. He ran and lunged into the man, plowing him to the ground.
''Where is she? Where is my Annabel Lee?" Cried the man from beneath Sherlock. He drove a punch into Clay's face. He punched into the soft man several times, his eyes darkened with pure rage. Sherlock continued his assault, beating him long after he had passed out. He barely heard Lestrade yell at him, before he was pulled off the man.
''Sherlock! I think you've got him!" Lestrade yelled, shaking him out of his trance. He shook his head, bringing clarity back to his mind. Sherlock thought, and quickly put together the puzzle. He snatched the keys from Greg's waist belt, and ran to the car. Starting it, he took off down the road. In the mirror he saw Greg yelling after him, and John looking on as he held Samantha Gaines.
He drove fast, until several minutes later, he saw a large metal barn, beside a small country shack. He pulled into the drive and turned the vehicle off. Sherlock ran to the house, and quickly looked for any sign of her. When he had found none, he ran to the barn. He slid open the large metal door and looked around him. He saw large tools on the wall next to him, a chair in the center of the room. He gazed over to see two cages on the ground, the bars covered in flecks of dried blood. He took in all the small details he could. He then eyed something from his peripheral vision. Something yellow. He turned and approached it. The large rusting barrel held a number of garments in it, most were blood covered and old. The sweater on top didn't even have a layer of dust. His heart sank. Molly's sweater.
He began looking for signs of a floor, remembering the clue she had given him. 'The Tell-Tale Heart. Where are the floor boards? Where are they?' Sherlock fell to the ground, searching through the scattered soil and straw covered ground. John and Lestrade had caught up with him by now, as they entered the barn. They saw him on the ground rifling through dirt. Nothing. Pure earth. Sherlock beat his fist in frustration. His fists pounded into the ground. He stopped, when a thought flashed before him. She said he loved Poe.
''Tell-Tale heart is too common.'' He spoke aloud. John and Lestrade could only stare at him with worried confusion.
''She said he loved Poe. You remember, yes? The woman in town said Edgar Allan Poe was his favorite. Someone who loves Poe wouldn't go with the most popular option. They'd choose something uncommon- something more obscure.'' Sherlock said as he darted out of the doorway. The two men followed him, and they stopped just outside the door as they gazed after the detective. He was running to a field, where a large machine crane sat. They could make out an outline of several plots in the field.
''Jesus.'' Greg sighed aloud. John and Greg looked to each other, before running to join Sherlock.
When Sherlock reached the crane, he climbed into the cab, only to find that the keys were gone. 'How predictable.' He thought to himself, before jumping down. The pile of dirt hadn't yet filled the shallow hole in the ground, but it was full enough that Sherlock grew worried.
''Molly!" He called. He heard no answer, and began frantically digging with his pale fingers. John and Lestrade had reached him, and their hearts each sank as they watched on. Sherlock tossed his coat off, giving him better arm movement. John ran back to the barn and grabbed a large shovel. When he returned, Sherlock had cleared another layer of dirt. John jumped into the pit with his friend and began digging. Meanwhile, Lestrade phoned for the back up team, instructing them to split up. One was to fetch an ambulance for Miss Gaines, and hopefully, Molly Hooper. The other was to take Wesley back to London.
The shovel hit a hard object with a dull thud. John looked at Sherlock, who looked back at him. They began digging even faster as they uncovered a wooden box. Sherlock beat on the top, hoping for some sort of response. Nothing. John kept digging around the side of the lid to the makeshift coffin. He pried it open using the end of the shovel, and with Greg's help, the lid snapped off from under the nails. Sherlock quickly lifted it, to see a pale and bare Molly. She was on her side, her arms tied behind her back. Sherlock quickly pulled her body out, and yanked off the dark leather belt that bound her hands. He felt her delicate wrist for a pulse, it fluttered lightly. He gazed over the purple bruises that formed around her hands and neck. His fingers tingled at the sensation, sending a small jolt through his arm, barely detectable. He gently cradled her head, and began shaking her slightly.
''Molly! Don't you dare do that, Molly Hooper! Don't you dare!" He called to her silent face. John's face fell as he watched his friend hold the petite woman. Sherlock tilted Molly's head back, and pinched her nose. He lowered his mouth to hers and began to push air into her lungs. He swiftly hopped into a better position and continued CPR. Sherlock kept looking to her face for a sign of life. Her hair stuck to her face from the blood that had dried, and her body was cool to the touch. Sherlock kept at it, his breathing growing hoarse and rapid as he tried desperately to revive her. John reached down to pull his friend away, and was met with a deep glare as he caught Sherlock's arm in his hand.
''Sherlock...Sherlock! She's gone, Sherlock.'' He said, looking in earnest at his friend, attempting to shake him from his trance. The glare grew in intensity as Sherlock pulled away from John. He returned to look at Molly. He pressed his mouth to hers once more, and blew in a long, steady breath. He whispered to her.
''You can't do that. You can't do this to me. Molly, come back to me.'' He pushed down on her chest again and again, his body feeling heavy with something that stirred inside his chest. He stared down at her, and wrapped her limp body in his arms. John's words echoed in his mind.
'She's gone.'
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:( poor Molly. Poor Sherlock. Onto the next chapter, hope you join me for it.