Hello my darlings, I just have to say I love you guys and thank you for everything. This chapter is pretty dark, but this story was meant to be dark. Zombies are not a funny thing except for Zombieland and Shaun of the Dead, but this is not a comedy. It gets better, because I could never end the story on a bad note, so it won't be super dark forever.

Warning: Language and Zombie violence.

Darkness kept Molly from seeing the branches and other objects that scratched her face and arms, but that wasn't an issue. It was trying to get as much distance from the herd as possible. They had run for hours, it seemed, time didn't matter. Molly heard Lucy start to fuss as Mary tried soother her, but Molly knew they need to stop for just a moment.

"Sherlock," Molly breathed as Sherlock looked behind to his friends seeing their worn faces.

"We can stop for a moment," Sherlock said as Molly collapsed on the ground in weariness. Sherlock rushed to her and made her drink water. As soon as she sat down the pain and devastation seeped in as her adrenaline left her body. She tried to choke back a sob as she could not be weak not now.

"It's not weak to cry, Molly," John told her as he was panting and rubbing his bad shoulder. Even though she was told it was not weak, she still felt like it was. This world had no time for crying or grieving, only surviving.

Biting back her tears Molly asked the question on everyone's mind. "Where are we going?"

Sherlock breathed the night air deeply as though his answer was difficult to answer. They could not just be running aimlessly though the country side. It was not the Sherlock Molly knew.

"Where do you think my brother has been during this disaster?" Sherlock asked the group. When no one answered his question Sherlock pulled out a piece of paper from his jacket. "My brother and other government officials are in a secret bunker in Dover. That is where we are going. They might not let us in as we are not considered important, well except me."

"Is that why he placed us in High Weald?" John asked.

"Yes, close to Dover in a sense and it's not densely populated," Sherlock said.

"We could have stayed in the cabin," Mary said not liking any of this.

"There were thousands of corpses and they could have ripped the back of the cabin and gotten in. Though the cabin was built very well, there are weak spots," Sherlock frowned. "Now we have enough time to sleep for a few hours. I will take the first watch."

"No, I won't sleep, let me," Molly said knowing her dreams would just be about Toby. Sherlock looked at her reading her which she ignored. She knew what he would see and she didn't care.

"In an hour, you wake me up," Sherlock said sternly as he gave her his watch. Molly nodded as they all settled in for some sleep.

For Molly, it would always be a blur. Her bow was ready and so was her mind even if a tear might fall once in a while. The growl seemed to come out of nowhere. To her left four zombies approached her. Quickly she took out one hitting it in the eye as she yelled for the others to wake up, but it was too late. A piercing pain from her ankle made her scream as a crawler was biting her.

Before Molly could strike to kill it Sherlock stabbed its head as John and Mary took out the other zombies.

Molly collapsed as she looked in horror at the bite mark that meant death. "Oh God oh god," Molly sobbed as Sherlock looked at the wound.

"No," was all Sherlock could say as Molly kept crying. John quickly got out his medical bag and went to clean the wound.

"What is the point John?" Molly cried as John ignored her and cleaned the wound.

"We only have an hour," Mary said her voice lacking in affection or emotion. It sent shivers down Molly's spine. The infection was quick and she would soon have a fever and hallucinations. Then she would die and come back as a corpse. It was always an hour. Just enough time to end it before it begun.

"I don't want to wait to die," Molly said as Sherlock looked in pain.

"I can do it," Sherlock said kneeling down to Molly and taking her face into his hands. "I can't see you turning. I won't let it happen."

A sick promise, but one Molly wanted. How would she want it to end? A shot to the head seemed like the best option.

"I love you," Molly whispered knowing it was the last time she would say it. Sherlock mask of indifference faded away as he kissed her forehead.

"I love you," Sherlock said as Mary handed him her gun. John continued to clean and wrap the wound which Molly didn't understand.

Sherlock gave Molly one last kiss. It was sad, but beautiful. A good last memory. Sherlock stood up as Molly closed her eyes. She didn't want to see how it would end.

Silence. Total and complete silence. Sherlock's hand trembled as he had the gun pointed at the woman he loved. He had to do it. Molly wanted this. Sherlock took a deep breath, his heart beating was blocking out any other noise. He pressed his finger on the trigger, not ready to fully pull it.

Breathing deeply he mustered all the courage he could as he steadied his aim. Without warning his gun was batted out of his hand as John stood in between him and Molly.

"What the fuck are you doing?" John spat as Sherlock's eyes went wide.

"Saving Molly," Sherlock said not understanding John's outrage.

"No, you are going to kill her and she is not even showing signs of turning," John growled.

"But she will," Mary said grimly.

"Who's bloody doctor here?" John asked. "Oh yeah it's me and I have seen a person bit and immediately they get a fever. Molly temperature is normal and there is no black ooze from her bite."

"John, there's no use," Molly cried. "You're delusional. There is no hope."

"That's everyone fucking problem yeah? England is filled with zombies and all three of you have lost hope, but you know who has to keep the fucking hope. Dr. John Hamish Watson, because none of you bloody pricks have it! I have to be the strong one and the reasonable one, because all of you have lost it! I'm fucking done with it. Mary, there's hope and if you don't believe me look at Lucy. She is hope. Sherlock, you have lost it. You know longer look at the world like an adventure like you use to and it has made you a bloody idiot. You could have deduced Molly's symptoms, but you didn't. Molly, death is not the answer. You finally got Sherlock and you rather give it up. I'm the fucking doctor and I know the signs of turning! So you better fucking listen to me! Molly is not going to turn!"

An awkward silence filled the camp as John glared at the group. Sherlock looked down at his feet. He had lost it. John was right about Molly, she looked normal and perfect. All Sherlock could see was her turning and not what was right in front of him. Sherlock bent down to Molly and hugged her tight. She was still sobbing not sure what to think.

"We should wait an hour," Mary said coldly.

"What did I say?" John growled.

"I don't care, she could still turn," Mary said.

"Fine, if you still want to be cold and have no hope then we wait an hour," John said.