Chapter 14-Molly to the Rescue

Just when Sherlock was about to give up hope, the door burst open and a mousy young woman wearing jeans and a brightly colored jumper hurried in.

"You could have told me that you were in the men's bathroom, Sherlock," she reprimanded. Despite his fear for his friend, Sherlock couldn't help responding in his usual style.

"Where else would I be, Molly? After all, excepting you, everyone in here is a man."

"Right," she said in her quiet, almost squeaky way. She knelt down and took John's pulse. Her eyes widened.

"You should have called an ambulance, Sherlock. There's not much I can do for him here."

"I don't trust hospitals," said Sherlock. "I trust you." He leaned right up next to her and looked directly into her eyes. He could practically feel her pulse go up and her breathing quicken. "Please. Do what you can."

"Ok," she said softly. She pulled out a first aid kit and set to work. "Why don't you trust hospitals?" she asked as she worked.

"The last time I checked into one three separate assassins tried to kill me, two posing as nurses. I don't trust them anymore."

"Right," she murmured. While she carefully cleaned and bandaged John's multiple wounds, Sherlock sent off two texts, one to his brother Mycroft, reading simply:

It's done.

The other was to DI Lestrade, or at least former DI. He had quit his job shortly after Sherlock had been "proven" to be a fraud, a fraud who had been using Lestrade for years. Mycroft would already be pulling some strings to get him his job back, but Sherlock gave him the last push he would need to rise to his former position.

Marylebone station, men's bathroom. You will find dangerous criminal Sebastian Moran unconscious on floor. Use as you see fit.

He hit send. He knew that the text would bring the former detective running, if only to find out who had sent the text, so he turned to Molly to see how she was doing.

"We need to leave soon. Someone's coming."

"Wonderful timing," she muttered. "I'm going to need some time, Sherlock. How do you know someone's coming, anyway?"

"I told him to come," he replied and knelt down beside Molly. "How much longer?"

"I don't know," she replied. "Do you want him to live?" Sherlock took the hint and backed away. At last, she stood up and shook her head.

"That's the best I can do here. You have to take him to a hospital for proper treatment. I'm sorry, Sherlock, there's only so much I can do."

"That's fine. I'm not really that distrustful of hospitals. I just didn't want to leave Moran's body unattended. Lestrade should be here any moment though, so it should be fine to leave it." He leaned down and scooped John up into his arms, ignoring Molly's indignant splutters.

"You risked his life because you didn't want to leave the body?" she finally managed as she followed him to the bathroom door. "Why didn't you just ask me to go with him, or stay with the body?"

"I didn't want to leave the body, because anything could have happened. He could have woken up and hurt whoever I set to watch him. And I…I didn't want to let John out of my sight," he finished softly. Molly raised her eyebrows at this break in the heartless detective's character but stepped in front of him and opened the door without a word.

Despite Sherlock's attempts to appear unobtrusive, a six-foot tall man carrying a bloody, bandaged man in his arms followed by an equally blood-covered woman are bound to look out of place in a train station. As they crossed the great room, they drew lots of stares which made Molly very nervous.

"I don't want to get arrested," she whispered to Sherlock. With great effort, he restrained himself form rolling his eyes.

"We're not going to get arrested," he said.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Put your hand in my pocket," he said

"Put my hand where?" she squeaked.

"My pocket," he said through clenched teeth. Practically shaking, she reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a card.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade, Scotland Yard," she read. "Where did you get this, then?" she said. "That's stealing."

"Borrowing," said Sherlock. "Hurry up, I would rather not have to use it, given that he is, in fact, no longer a detective inspector, and also that he is currently walking through the doors." Without another word he ducked behind a pillar and waited for the other man to pass.

"Don't you want him to see you?" asked Molly in surprise. "After all, he would be thrilled that you're alive."

"Not yet," Sherlock murmured distractedly. "Come on," he said and they exited the station. Molly hurried to the curb and hailed a cab. It took quite a lot of convincing to get the cabbie to take them, especially John, but eventually he agreed. He dropped Molly off at St. Bart's Hospital where she disappeared with a cheery wave that Sherlock ignored. The cabbie then took off for 221b Baker Street.