"It was you, Molly. It was always about you."
Molly felt her brows bunch in confusion. "M-me, Sherlock? What do you mean?"
"Yes, what are you yammering about?" Sherrinford bit out.
She glared up at the older Holmes. "Stop pointing that at him!"
"Certainly," he said icily, "this better?"
The hard steel of the gun's muzzle pressed against the back of her head. Sherlock's eyes narrowed and his lips turned down. Anger rippled across his face. He started to stand up on the scale but Sherrinford shook his head vigorously. Molly grabbed his hand and wordlessly implored him to stay put.
"Stay down!" Sherrinford barked. "But do go on. Enlighten us about Miss Molly's part in my asset's death."
"If you would just take the gun off her," Sherlock ground out.
"You are not in the position to demand anything . . ."
"Take. The. Gun. Off. Her. NOW!"
Sherrinford glowered for several seconds but eventually stepped back with a smirk. "Fine, but only because you have me on the edge of my seat."
Molly's eyes searched her detective's face. "Sherlock?"
It was like the world fell away then and they were encapsulated in a bubble. Time slowed. His strained, ragged breaths filled her ears. He looked down briefly, his lips moved as if rehearsing what he was going to say, then he met her gaze once more.
"Magnussen was incredibly dangerous, Molly, and what made him exceptionally so was his connection to Sherrinford. When I uncovered who he was working for, I tried to find something that would put him away but Mycroft and the government weren't interested in half-measures. They also did not want to appear as if directly involved. So, I was asked to assassinate him. I-I turned it down. Over and over I turned it down because it meant giving up my life . . . giving up . . . you."
Molly stopped breathing. Air burned in her lungs. "Wh-what?"
His eyes widened and became distant, as if he were transfixed by a memory. "And blast! I kept hearing your voice in my head telling me it was wrong."
She was having trouble processing his admissions. Her heart hammered beneath her ribs. "But then why change your mind?"
His voice dropped an octave. "Because I found out he had begun amassing information on you. He had deduced your, ahem, importance to me despite my best efforts in distracting him by dating Janine and so on. I knew then it was only a matter of time before he shared what he collected with Sherrinford. I couldn't . . . I could not let you be a target, Molly. He had to die."
Molly reeled. She wobbled backwards and sat down on her bum in the cold cement floor.
"You dated Janine. You k-killed Magnussen . . . for me? Wh-why?"
Sherrinford let out a snort. "I should think that part is sickeningly obvious."
A tear slipped down Sherlock's cheek. He looked away.
"Oh, God!" Molly thoughts raced. "All this time."
The realization of his depth of feelings for her hit her like a cinder block to the chest. She searched his face. He held his breath in anticipation. He was terrified like nothing she'd ever seen. His eyes were that sort of overly round which gave him away. He was scared of what she thought about him and his feelings.
She felt as if she were breathing a soupy fog. It couldn't be . . . but there it was in all its naked glory.
Sherlock Holmes was in love with her.
And had been for some while.
If she didn't want to launch herself into his arms so badly, she'd slap his face for having put her through so much emotional torture and second guessing of herself.
"Why didn't you tell me? About all of it! Especially Magnussen . . . you didn't have to suffer that alone."
Sherlock's head dropped slightly. He looked from under his brows. "Molly, you are so special in the way you are and how you look at the world. I did not want you to ever think you were responsible in any part for the death of that man. It is a burden I never wanted you to inflict on you."
Sherrinford groaned. "Oh, Christ, I do not think I can endure another second of this. Come, Miss Molly, step away. It's time to meet your maker, so to speak."
"Sherrinford, stop! What do you want? What can I do?" Sherlock pleaded.
Sherrinford's eyes flashed. Molly cried out as he grabbed a handful of her hair and then yanked her to her feet. Her scalp burned painfully. Sherlock lurched forward on the scale. Again, the numbers dipped before coming back up.
"I will kill you, Sherrinford. I will rip your heart out with my bare hands!"
"Stay put, you stupid dog! This is your fault. I told you that you could never have this. Now it's up to me to show you I was right, that I have always been right!"
Molly winced as his fingers twisted in her hair. She closed her eyes.
"Turn around!" He commanded. "I want to see the life leave your face."
"Courage. Have courage," she told herself.
She opened her eyes when she felt the barrel of the gun forced against her forehead. His finger slipped onto the trigger. He was going to kill her, of that she had no doubt. He had a grim set to his face. His tongue moistened his lips.
"Dare!" She cried.
His lips twitched and he squinted. "I'm bored of games now. Besides, It's not your turn to ask."
She gulped in a breath. "Doesn't matter. Do you accept my challenge or not?"
She watched as he gave his head a half-shake. He blinked once and his nostrils flared as he sucked in a breath. She had surprised him again and he did not like it.
"Do your worst," he spat.
Molly lifted her chin. "Kill Sherlock."
Sherrinford froze for a moment with a stunned look on his face. He stepped back, uncertain, and then stumbled. His hand flew to his temple.
"Gaa," he flinched, "y-you . . . I . . ."
Molly's eyes flicked sideways to Sherlock who had risen to his feet. He was absolutely flabbergasted. He looked like a very confused little boy. She wished she could reassure him but there was no time.
"I said kill Sherlock! I double-stamp dare you to do it, you coward."
Sherrinford glowered at her as he composed himself. She had shocked him but her ruse wouldn't last long. She needed him closer to Sherlock again. She looked at her dumbfounded detective.
"Molly . . ."
"Please, trust me now. A moment is coming, you need to be ready," she attempted to communicate with her eyes.
As Sherrinford moved forward again Molly stepped next to Sherlock on the scale. His eyes widened.
"What are you doing?"
She shoved him hard. He staggered off the scale, tripped and fell on his arse. She glanced to the indicator as it stabilized at 121 pounds.
"What are you waiting for?" She shouted at Sherrinford. "Kill Sherlock. Then go on and leave me here to die. Go ahead!"
She gambled with all their lives, this she knew. She could be wrong, so very wrong, but at least she wasn't afraid of death this time. She would die knowing Sherlock loved her, with only the minor regret that their time together was so brief.
Sherrinford pointed a trembling hand in Sherlock's direction. For a moment, Molly's stomach dropped. Then, a trickle of blood ran from Sherrinford's nose. Sherlock stood up again but his demeanor was uncertain.
"What's the matter?" Molly asked quietly, "Forgot to take your Cyklokapron today?"
A quiver of Sherrinford's cheek gave him away.
Sherlock glanced quickly between the two of them. "Molly? Is he going to kill me or not?"
"No," she smiled. "No, he's not."
Sherrinford whirled on her. "You don't know anything!"
"You said it yourself, Sherrinford. I've seen death," her smile spread, "which means I know it when I see it."
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!"
"Molly, explain please," Sherlock prompted.
She folded her arms casually and leaned back against the stanchion that housed the scale's indicator.
"He's dying from cancer, Sherlock. Myeloma to be more specific. His only hope is a bone marrow transplant. He needs you because you're a match. Unfortunately, none of the rest of your family is so, thus, he won't kill you."
Sherlock absorbed the information coolly. He narrowed his eyes as he assessed his brother then ever so languidly brushed some dirt from his coat and adjusted his cuffs. She saw a smirk tug one corner of his lips. He took a step towards Sherrinford.
"Stay back! Stay back or I-I kill her."
"And what? Let your bomb detonate? That's hardly conducive to the extension of your life."
Sherrinford backed away. "I am warning you! Don't test me. You know I am a good shot. I can make sure she falls right down on the scale!"
Sherrinford gestured the gun towards her again. She tensed.
"Um, yeah, you don't want to kill me either."
"Oh, I soooo do . . ."
Her eyes flitted nervously to Sherlock. This isn't how she envisioned doing this.
Her nose wrinkled. "Well, um yeah, you don't because, ahem, you see . . . I'm pregnant. So, it might not be all that great an idea to kill the mother of a potential second donor."
Sherrinford's eyes lost some of their vividness as they glazed over. He was so weak. She could see his strength failing as blood poured from his nose. He held his free arm against his face in attempt to stem the flow. His hand trembled and began to lower. Sherlock was behind him in an instant.
"One good shot to the lower spine ought to do it," Molly murmured.
"Noted."
Sherlock wound up and drove a fist into Sherrinford's spine. Sherrinford jerked forward and then crumpled with a grunt of pain. The gun clattered to the floor. Sherlock picked it up and held it on his brother who laid sideways on the whining on the floor.
"Ack, you b-bloody caveman. You've cracked my vertebrae!"
Sherlock armed the gun deliberately. "How do I disable the bomb? Hurry now or they'll be scooping your grey matter up off the concrete."
Sherrinford writhed and moaned. Sherlock fired the gun next to his head into the floor. The loud crack of it echoed off the stone walls of the bakery. The injured man's histrionics ceased.
"T-there's no bomb!"
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding me!?"
Sherrinford clutched at his back and laughed in hysterical pain. "God, what do you think? Who has time for such things? You always were so easy to fool . . ."
Sherlock looked at Molly with a raised brow. "Is he lying?"
She sighed. "No, he's telling the truth."
She took a breath and hopped off the scale. Nothing happened save for a beep when the red electronic indicator on the scale reset to zero. Sherlock's lips stretched into a thin line. He gripped the gun until his knuckles were white.
"I should end you," he growled.
Sherrinford waved his hands. "But y-you won't!"
Sherlock snorted. Molly was by his side in a heartbeat. She wrapped her hands around his arm and laid her head against his sleeve.
"No, you are right and you have Molly to thank for that."
