Hi everyone! I just gotta say, I love the word 'douche'. You NEVER hear it over here, but I'm pretty sure we'd DESTROY it, lol. xx Anyway, enough of the random babblings and on with the chapter… xx

Molly woke up alone that morning. Their last morning in France, she noted with a sigh. She blinked in the sunlight in the room and waited for her eyes to adjust. The space next to her had the covers thrown back and the sheets were ruffled. Molly wrinkled her forehead slightly. Sherlock had been here at one point, so where is he? A sharp hissing sound was coming from the bathroom and Molly scrambled out of bed, rushing in to investigate. Sherlock was standing, shirtless, in front of the mirror, examining his scorching red back and arms. A man Sherlock may be, but he didn't handle pain or illness well. He seemed to transform into a child needing constant care and attention. He noticed her watching him from the mirror and gave an overly dramatic sigh.

"I still fail to understand how the sun did not affect you in any way."

He was looking at her perfectly tanned, but not burnt, arms and legs. Molly smiled with pride as she came to stand next to him.

"It's called sunscreen, Sherlock. I told you to put some on, didn't I?"

Sherlock gave an annoyed sigh and spoke through gritted teeth.

"Yes. But, I do not need it."

Molly rolled her eyes at his stubbornness and decided to leave him to it, despite his pouting and, rather loud and irritating, sighing. Molly yawned and threw a few things she found into her suitcase, picking up clothing items and dressing as she did. She was halfway through buttoning her top when she noticed her phone in the corner of the room. Molly gasped as she had completely forgotten she had brought it with her. She clicked it open and frowned slightly when noticed she had 14 missed calls and four texts from Sidney. What could this be about? It must be important. What a nice kid to keep me in the loop. She breathed deeply, sitting on the edge of the bed as she opened the messages. The first one had been sent the day they had left. In fact, it was only a few hours after Molly was due at work. Honestly, he should read the memos. Mike should have told him, or at least his father! He is in charge after all…

Hello. It's your good friend, Sidney! I was just wondering if you're alright, you're not at work. Obviously, you know that. I was thinking of popping round with that coffee I promised. I'll bring some soup if you're ill, as well. Please, call me x Sidney x

The first one was the sent the day they had left. Molly racked her brains trying to remember if she had agreed to a coffee with Sidney. Shrugging, she smiled at his sweetness, failing to see that it screamed 'stalker'. The second text message was sent a few hours after the first and Molly felt sorry for the boy.

Hi, it's me again, Sidney. You still haven't answered me, and I'm starting to think you're avoiding me! I'm not a freak, you know. I'm just getting a bit worried about you…you're the only one at this hospital I can understand and if anything happened to you, I don't know what I'd do…please call me, Molly. x Sidney x

Molly bit her lip. This kid needs to get a grip. He seems a little…lost and pathetic. If Molly had cause for concern in the second text, it was nothing compared to the third.

Hiya. Ok, since you seem too busy to talk to me to tell me how you are, I tracked down Dr. Stamford (which was no easy task; he had meetings all day and I waited for 4 hours outside for him!) and he explained you were having 'personal' time off. What does that mean? Are you ok? I dropped by your flat earlier to see if you were in. No one was there so I waited three hours to see if you showed up. You didn't, naturally. Please call me…x Sidney x

Molly was actually frightened to read the fourth and final text from Sidney but took a deep breath and opened the message. She regretted it instantly. This was pure creepy.

Look, this isn't on now. I am just concerned for you because I care. I know I probably shouldn't have, but I went to 221B Baker Street. I saw Holmes scrawl it on a piece of paper once, with 'address' written above it. Maybe he dropped it or something…I assumed it must be his. Anyway, when I arrived, this old woman answered and said Holmes wasn't in. I waited until she had gone and I broke into his flat, just to see if he wasn't holding you prisoner or something. I found nothing, not even that Doctor Wilson or Watkins or whatever it was. After a subtle investigation, I returned to the hospital and borrowed your file, I knew you wouldn't mind. After all, I'm only concerned for your safety! I found a handwritten note about some full body examination from someone called The Consulting DeSEXtive (pervert if you ask me, I, personally, would have gone for The SEXpert, but it would be up to you, of course). I realised this must be in the wrong file as it couldn't be yours so I burned it for you. No need to thank me. I'll see you real soon. Hope wherever you are, you're ok. Be safe and come back to me soon x Sidney x

Molly stared in disbelief at her phone for a few moments before dropping it to the floor. Sherlock, hearing the crash, came to the door to investigate. He had managed to dress himself, and was looking around wearily. His powers of deduction allowed him to identify the source of the crash. With glance at Molly, he knew something had her worried, no petrified. Sherlock retrieved the phone and read the messages with a deep frown on his face. These messages had come before the conversation he had with the student. He sighed as he sat down next to her.

"Well, this means that you will be more inclined to believe me when I tell you that he is bad news. Yesterday, he called me and informed me that he was at your flat, in bed with you. It was satisfyingly amusing when you appeared begging for me."

Molly noticed the smirk in his tone and on his features but she still couldn't shake the uneasy feeling. How could her seemingly sweet student be capable of such…sadistic and creepy thoughts? A soft knock sounded against the door and Sherlock strode to open it, stepping aside to allow John and Mary entry to the room. They heaved their bags into the room, and collapsed into the chairs, panting and fanning themselves. John eyed Sherlock's gentle, slower movements, still sore from the sun's burning marks.

"Um…thanks for the camera back, Sherlock. We really appreciate your contribution of footage."

Sherlock had grown accustomed to John's type of sarcasm but couldn't help but smirk to himself. John clapped his hands and whistled to himself, searching for something to say. Sherlock took Molly's phone and tossed it in his direction without a word. John, also speechless, read through the texts open mouthed and Mary tutted every now and again as she read through.

"That kid's got some nerve! He's a right little creep."

Molly gave a small nod and Sherlock looked triumphant, even though he tried to hide this. Sherlock glanced at his watch and ushered them to their feet.

"We should get going. We shall be back in London soon and we can confront him ourselves."

John swallowed but Molly and Mary looked determined and nodded eagerly. John really wasn't one for confrontations, despite being an army doctor. He preferred it when everyone could live in peace. This is going to end badly…

Arriving in London a few hours later, the four of them decided they were just too tired to confront Sidney immediately. John helped Mary to her flat whilst Sherlock accompanied Molly back to hers. The lift wad broken again, so Sherlock had the ever-so delightful task of heaving her heavy bags up the stairs. Breathing heavily, he dropped them at the top and dragged them to her front door. Sherlock stopped dead in front of the door. It had been forced. He gestured for her to keep quiet as he stealthily pushed the door open and took a look around.

"Well, there's no one here but it is one hell of a mess."

Molly cautiously tiptoed and threw her hand to her mouth in shock. Her furniture was in shreds, as if it had been slashed. Her documents, papers, books and assorted DVD collection was strewn about the floor, cracked, snapped and ripped in piles. Bookcases had been knocked over and her TV had been thrown to the floor. Her pictures had been thrown to the floor and cracked. Several of them even appeared to be missing. Down the hall, clothes had been dropped and pulled apart. Sherlock noticed it seemed to be the ones she wore on special occasions, including their 'game' nights. Molly had ran into the hall and was cradling her cat, silent tears falling down her face. She frantically felt his body; he had a pulse, but it was faint. Molly could have screamed with relief. A thud sounded next to her and Molly turned to see the cat carrier had been placed next to her. She turned just in time to see Sherlock picking up her bags and walking towards the door. She wiped her eyes and called out softly.

"Where…are you…going?"

Sherlock took one last look around before focusing on a free space in front of him.

"221B. If you think for one second you are staying here tonight, Molly, you are much mistaken. Now come on, in case Mr. Smith comes back."

Molly scrambled to her feet and she carefully placed Toby in his carrier. She hurried over to him, already feeling safer. Molly embraced him tightly and kissed his cheek fondly. Sherlock ignored the fuzzy feeling that had settled in his stomach and nodded at her, taking Toby from her.

"Oh my God, what happened here?"

They whipped around to find John standing at the door, staring open-mouthed at the mess around them. Sherlock cleared his throat and spoke to John.

"Take Molly back to the flat, I just need to get a few things for her. All she had is the items of clothing from the holiday and London's weather seems inappropriate for such dress. Also…" he strode into the kitchen, grabbing a bag of cat food and Toby's bowl. He returned and handed them to John, "this is for the cat. I would advise you ring the vet. I shall return after I have collected the items."

John nodded and ushered Molly out of the flat. She mouthed a 'thank you' at Sherlock before being led gently from the room. Sherlock hurried to the bedroom and rummaged through her things to try and find something, anything she could. He noticed, with a sickening lurch, nearly all of Molly's underwear had disappeared as well as her hairbrush, make up and a pair of shoes. He ran around frantically, throwing things into one of Molly's few bags she had left.

"Molly, darling, is that you? I'm home."

Sherlock froze, hate and anger filling him to the brim. It was the cold, cruel voice of Sidney. He had returned to see of Molly had seen his 'token of his love'. Sherlock straightened up and stepped into the living room. Sidney looked at him like a confused child, tilting his head and blinking repeatedly.

"You? What are you doing here? Where's my Molly?"

Sherlock resisted the urge grab Sidney around the throat and throttle him until he lost consciousness. Instead, he met his cold gaze with his calming, blue chilled out one.

"She's safe."

Sidney shook his head violently, screwing his face up and clutching the sides of his head.

"No, no NO! That is MY job, I am the one who worries about that. ME! Not you, who are you? You cannot decide Molly's fate. TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!"

Before Sherlock could say anything, Sidney lunged forwards, a scalpel in his hands. The deranged man ran towards the collected man, swinging his arms around dementedly. Sherlock watched and dodged out of Sidney's way, pushing him against the wall. During this scuffle, however, Sidney had been writhing and flailing violently and Sherlock found it almost impossible to differentiate whose hands were whose. Sherlock reached out to grab Sidney's scalpel arm, but missed and was instead caught by the harsh, sharp metal. Sherlock gave a gasp of pain and stepped back to examine his hand. Shining red liquid dripped from the painful gash across the back of Sherlock's hand, falling to the floor. Sidney smirked and took and step forwards, taking his chance to finish off the consulting detective. Sherlock, who had previously been unaware his injury had forced him to his knees, stood and, quickly yet painfully hard, struck Sidney square in the face. Sidney yelped in pain and dropped the scalpel. Sherlock kicked it aside and grabbed Sidney's collar, shoving him against the wall. Sherlock could no longer stop himself. His hands closed around Sidney's throat and tightened, choking the evil bastard where he stood. Sidney smirked but Sherlock was too busy to notice. Sidney acted too quickly; there was no time for a reaction. The plant pot had just been sitting there after all. He gasped for breath as he scrambled to his feet, the unconscious detective at his feet, a pool of blood forming where he had been struck. After catching his breath, Sidney retrieved his scalpel and bent over Sherlock. He was distracted by a buzzing from the detective's pocket.

Incident at Bart's. See you there. Molly's fine, don't worry. JW

Sidney pocketed the detective's phone with a smirk and prepared to leave. He heard a groaning behind him and realised Sherlock was coming around. He quickly dragged him over to the radiator, and roughly handcuffed him to the bottom. Sidney left quickly, wanting to reach Bart's before the doctor. Maybe the Doctor will be more co-operative and tell me where my Molly is. The world is trying to keep us apart. I will find you, my love…

Ok, first things first, I have NEVER written a full on fight scene like that before, so I am sorry if it was terrible. Secondly, this chapter was just to give you an idea into Sidney's twisted mind and how far he will go. He really is quite…something, isn't he? Lastly, thank you so much for reading, even if it was unbearable, lol. (: Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed it :) xx Back soon and it will be Sidney vs John, ;p. Will he discover where they're 'hiding his Molly'? Stay tuned xx