Hello! Shilo again. I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter! Our fantastic author should be back from vacation shortly. But until then, here's chapter nine!


"Isn't this what you wanted?" Sherlock stood above the sidewalk on a rather high building awaiting his pitfall. The grey sky loomed above him, only making this setting more contrast. He was on the phone with the man who held Molly captive. He had known all along what to do and he felt like such a fool for not realizing it earlier. How inconceivable of him.

When he had shown up at the address and got on the roof, there was a phone waiting with one number. That number led him to the voice of her captor. As soon as the man spoke, Sherlock was sure who it was. He was angry at himself for not knowing sooner, he had let himself get distracted. Never let your heart rule your head. He had made that fatal flaw.

Oh if only she had let him in that night. She would be here. They would be out at her work daunting each other. They would have been casually flirting over a dead man's body. But instead that bastard had her tied up god knows where.

"Oh yes, always and forever." The man said. He sounded posh, sarcastic, deadly. Just the kind of Irish accent that would capture any woman's ears. It had worked on his dear, sweet Molly. Damn this man, damn himself.

"Then I'll give you what you want, but you have to promise me to let her go." Sherlock wanted to know that if he did what he's about to do, she will be okay. This had to be worth it and the only thing worth what he was about to do was her life and the life not yet come into this world. He stood a few feet from the edge, not yet ready to look down. He only wanted to look up.

The man laughed. "I always knew I would burn the heart out of you." His heart was Molly. His heart was Molly. His weakness was Molly.

Sherlock hated this man the moment he realized who he was. What he had done, and what he would do. "Touch her and I'll-"

"You'll what? You'll be dead," He said, with snark. He giggled slightly, only setting Sherlock on edge more. If only he could just find the man and kill him. But there is no other way than this.

"I want to speak to her." Sherlock's throat tightened. This moment would be his last. He wanted to hear her voice. Her sweet, angelic voice. How he wished he could have heard her say she loved him or to scream his name again. Just to hear her say anything to him. He would miss her stutter. How her cheeks tinted and she clicked her heels. Or the way she played with her scarf or when she would bring him coffee. Her daring attitude she only showed for him; he would miss that most of all.

The man sighed dramatically, no doubt paired with an eye roll. "If that's how you choose your final words."

There were muffled noises then a cry of pain, her cry of pain. Sherlock clenched his fists. "Sherlock help me," She cried helplessly into the phone. Her voice was pitched. He wondered if she had fought back, if she pulled out her pepper spray he knew she hid behind the canvas over her bed.

"Oh, my dear Molly, I am." Sherlock wanted to save her, and he was trying. He was rubbing circles on his chest, trying to calm his erratic heart.

"I love you. I love you, I love you Sherlock." She said quickly over and over. "I should have told you," she said, letting out a sob.

His heart stopped. All along she did love him. Now he would never get to enjoy her love. But if he didn't do this he would kill her, and in the end himself. "Molly you can't possibly love a man like me." He wanted her to not love him. So that one day she could move on.

"But I do, I always have." She whispered.

"I'm going to save you Molly," he paused. Sherlock could picture her tied up in a room underground only lit with the yellowest of bulbs with flies buzzing around. He would save her. "I love you, Molly Hooper," he whispered back. One day, her last name should have been Holmes.

She sucked in a breath. "Sherlock I'm-"

"I think that's enough," the man cut in. there was the sound of ripping, duct tape, and the dim sound of Molly screaming his name. "You want to know how I bound the poor girl." If Sherlock could only cut this man's tongue out before he died.

"No, I'd rather not know." He said through gritted teeth.

"I found her with your scarf clutched in her hands, I used it to bind her to the chair," he chuckled. Sherlock's heart dropped again. She slept with his scarf… to be comforted?

"How fitting," he spat.

There was a moment of silence before Sherlock asked the question he didn't want to because he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear it to know it was final.

Sherlock's voice was thicker then steel. "If I don't jump?"

"I'll kill her then find your little John, do away with him and everyone else you love." The voice on the other end laughed, a little too psychotic for his liking.

"No time to leave a note, then." Sherlock finally took those small steps to the ledge. The gravel on the roof top crunched beneath his feet. He then stepped onto the six inch ledge, a dead man's walk. He now let his eyes wonder to the world below him and watched it bustle with life.

"Just jump already, the anticipation is killing me." To think that this was the man who had taken Molly out for dinner. The dinner they had shared a drink at was just below him. That was why this location was specific. It was where Molly and the man had their first and only date. Sherlock would fall for her, break his pretty face on the sidewalk just so she can breathe another breath to live another day.

Sherlock sighed. "See you in hell, Jim Moriarty." He closed the phone and threw it behind him. He looked up at the early morning sun and tried to blink back his tears.

"I love you Molly. I did this to protect you." He shuddered with a held back sob. He had to be strong right now, for her. "But now you need to find a new man to protect you." Sherlock knew there were microphones here that Molly would hear him. "You should name it after your mother."

Sherlock leaned over, sucked in a breath and let his body go slack. He fell. He fell. He flew. He soared. He slipped. He crashed. There was blood. There was death. There was no more Sherlock Holmes.


Now before you all yell at me, remember, I'm just the little editor. Save all your flames and feels for landLadynotyrhouseKeeper. Nice meeting you all! Please don't murder my friend.

-Shilo The Game Changer

*found internet! thanks brit! but i cant post at midnight :(*

AN: Well it's over, insert dramatic sigh, and this was my fist Sherlolly and first fic ever. (I wonder if you caught all the references, hmmm.) I bet no one will notice but I had my beta post the final chapter at exactly midnight, when 2014 fell so did Sherlock. I really want to know what you guys thought because none of my friends ship Sherlolly and won't read it so it's up to you to tell me.

Thank you all for taking your time to read my fanfic. It's short and kind of off but I'm okay with it. I wish you all a happy New Year's (and I hope you had a Merry Christmas, sorry I didn't leave a note on the X-mas chapter but I was away).

Thank you.

Catch… you… later.

Oh and #NotDead

Hint-hint, wink-wink, nudge-nudge

HINT-HINT, WINK-WINK, NUDGE-NUDGE