Tumblr prompt from a lovely anon: I can't get this out of my head and you write so well so here's a prompt if you're up for it! Mary, Molly, and Anthea work for Mycroft (Charlie's Angels style)... Sherlock and John get bored when their ladies are out on a "girls night" so they go out looking for trouble but find out what their women are really up to when they accidentally stumble into one of their cases? Thanks! (This is my first prompt request ever btw)

'I should have stayed at the pub!'

'Oh, do stop complaining, you were utterly bored there! Surely you can't blame me for breaking up the monotony!'

'I thought you were taking the piss!' John shouted angrily as he tried to keep pace with Sherlock, knives whipping past them in worrying proximity, burying themselves to the hilt in the walls around them. He ducked his head and scrambled around the corner, nearly falling down as he raced to catch up with Sherlock's billowing coat.

Sherlock glanced back with a disdainful quirk of his eyebrow, as though to say 'Really?'

Behind them, the pattering footsteps were closing in.

Ninjas. John grumbled to himself in disbelief. Next time, I'll handcuff myself to the damn barstool and let Sherlock go chase them on his own. I'd even suffer at the spa with Mary instead!

Just as they reached the warehouse exit, just when safety may have been in reach, Sherlock yanked the door open and stumbled to a stop, John running right into his back, as they came face-to-face with the barrel of a gun. His stomach dropped heavily.

Clad in a black catsuit, her auburn hair piled under a thick black hat, their mark smirked and cocked the hammer back.

'Oh, Mister Holmes,' Violet Hunter tsked. 'You should stayed at the pub.'

Snapping the cable into place, Molly tugged the line to test the resistance. Satisfied, she looked up and shot Mary a thumbs up, the blonde nodding in acknowledgement and anchoring the cable to the rooftop.

'There are four in the main room, three on the outer wall, and the leader is… damn it, where did she go?' Anthea cursed through the earpiece.

Molly peeked through the hatch in the roof of the warehouse and adjusted her sunglasses, a fashionable gift from Mycroft that easily transitioned to nightvision goggles. Whispering into her mic, Molly counted, 'I make out five marks in the main room. I can't determine if she's one of them, but…'

'…the odds are likely she's there,' Mary finished for her.

'We won't get another chance like this, I say we take those odds.'

'Agreed.' Molly could hear Anthea typing over the comm, the clack of the brunette's Blackberry keys loud and familiar, most likely giving Mycroft an update.

Molly turned and steadied her feet against the open window ledge, flicking her nightvision off.

'On my count,' Mary began, gripping the cable line and prepping for Molly's descent. 'Five… four… three… two… one.'

With a firm shove, Molly dropped into the opening and slowly began to lower towards the ground. The five figures below her were still.

In the center of the room, right below her, sat a massive table filled with computer monitors and wires and lit by a bevy of lamps.

Keeping her breaths short and quiet, Molly drew closer. The window of opportunity was short. Just as she was about to breach the area of light, she reached up and tugged once on the rope, indicating that Mary should hold her steady. Slowly, so as not to catch the marks' attention, she shifted until she was vertical, her legs above her and wrapped around the cable. Reaching into her tight catsuit, she pulled out the flash drive containing Flatline.

She glanced up and waited for the right moment to slip it into the USB port, effectively obliterating the entire network.

Just as she was about to complete the first phase, her hand millimeters from the port, the overhead lights burst on. A deafening silence filled the space as Molly slowly lifted her head, staring into a roomful of surprised faces.

'Hello,' she called out cheerily and waggled her fingers in a wave. 'Just be a mo'.'

'Oh, god,' Mary groaned over the comm.

The room was suddenly filled with shouts and metal scraping against the cement floor as Molly slammed the Flatline drive into the port with one hand and unlinked herself from the cable with the other, flipping over gracefully and landing in her heeled boots (a definite first, she has to tell Mycroft). She swept her leg around and knocked an attacker down, his cry of pain lost as another attacker took his place with a cry of attack.

Molly easily deflected the slash of his knife, whipping around and attacking his weak points until he was an unconscious heap on the floor. More attackers rushed in from the hallway. A flash of blonde hair crossed Molly's peripheral as Mary joined her in the melee, Mary's superior hand-to-hand combat skills easily matching Molly's and surpassing the so-called 'ninjas' employed by the mark.

One by one, they knocked down their attackers, leaving a pile of groaning, bleeding men in their wake.

Slightly out of breath, they smiled at each other over the pile. 'Nice job,' Molly remarked, pulling her hat off and tugging the glasses from her face.

'You, too. And nice landing, by the way. I thought for a moment we'd have another Barcelona incident on our hands,' Mary teased.

'Oh, let her have her victory,' Anthea drolled over the comm. 'It's not every mission she doesn't break an ankle.'

'Oi,' Molly huffed in indignation before dissolving into laughter with her partners.

'Please, don't let me interrupt,' a voice suddenly interrupted their celebration. Molly and Mary whipped their heads around at the voice, accompanied by the click of a gun, to see their mark standing in the doorway. Heels clacking against the cement, Violet Hunter sauntered into the room, her gun never wavering from Molly's head.

'You know,' she smirked, 'I think I'm a bit honored to be visited by the Angels. You certainly know how to make a girl feel special.'

Molly and Mary watched her warily as she circled around them to the computer, using her free hand to type. The black screen flickered on and a log in screen appeared.

Violet turned her head back to them and grinned triumphantly. 'But it seems you failed. How disappointing,' she said with a mocking pout, turning back and typing in her password.

With a sideways glance at Mary, Molly took a step closer. 'What makes you think we failed, Miss Hunter?'

Violet ignored her as the program started up, numbers racing across the screen. She smiled in relief. Suddenly, the numbers began running backwards, deleting themselves. 'No, no, no!' Violet cried, dropping the gun on the table and frantically typing, trying to stop the erasure.

'Great timing, Anthea.' Molly praised the hacker.

'Couldn't have done it without you, love.'

'What did you do?' Violet shouted in fury, watching as her network was destroyed from the inside out, courtesy of the Flatline.

'It's a Trojan horse I placed in your computer. All it needed was you to log in and then my lovely hacker was able to wander inside and completely obliterate the drive and your entire network.'

'I may have added my own little touch, as well,' Mary interrupted with a wicked smile.

Violet stared at her in furious confusion. Suddenly, the computer exploded into flames, the force sending her flying backwards, her head smacking against the cement, and she fell limp.

'Oh, I like it!' Molly cried out happily, clapping her hands. Mary beamed at her praise. Anthea groaned fondly at the pyromaniac.

Suddenly from the hallway came the sound of raised voices. Immediately dropping their joyful smiles, Molly and Mary whirled to face the new attackers. To their complete surprise and utter horror, instead of another pair of ninjas bursting through the doorway, their boyfriends stumbled inside, their hands handcuffed together behind their backs and arguing bitterly.

'Goddamnit, Sherlock, just hold on…' John cursed as he was jerked around by the Consulting Detective. Sherlock rolled his eyes and pulled the shorter man behind him.

'They just left us, John. I'm not escaping until I know why and what's… going… on…' he trailed off as he took in the pile of ninja bodies and the two familiar women in formfitting black catsuits.

'Sherlock, unlock this right now! I can't see a bloody thing, what's happening?' John yanked on the handcuffs until he'd shifted enough to see over his shoulder, his mouth gaping open at the sight before him.

Unable to move from shock, Molly and Mary simple watched helplessly as their boyfriends blinked repeatedly, their eyes wide and their mouths wider.

'We can explain…' Mary broke the silence.

'We can?' Molly looked at her, incredulous.

'Yes,' Mary hissed angrily. 'You see, we're… um… that is….Molly and I were… er….'

'Nice explaining, Watson,' Anthea commented dryly over the comm.

'Shut up,' Mary grumbled and crossed her arms. From behind them, one of the men groaned and began to sit up. Molly automatically whirled around, knocking him out with an expertly maneuvered kick to the head. Sheepishly, she turned back around, not noticing how Sherlock's breathing had quickened.

'You're not at the spa,' Sherlock commented dumbly.

Molly shook her head and bit her lip. 'Um, no. Not really my thing.'

Sherlock cleared his throat as he raked his gaze up and down her spandex-covered body and commented distractedly, 'Mycroft, I presume.'

'Yeah,' she bit her lip.

'You work for Mycroft?' John shouted over his shoulder, straining to keep Mary in his line of sight.

'Oh,' Mary exclaimed, rushing over to the pair and easily removing the handcuffs that bound them together. Holding the silver metal, she fiddled with the clasp as she replied to him, 'For about three years now. He calls us his 'Angels'.'

Molly wrung her hands in worry as she flicked her gaze up to Sherlock. 'I'm sorry I didn't tell you, it's just-mmpff!'

Now free from his restraints, Sherlock rushed over to Molly, gripping her face and kissing her passionately. Molly squeaked in surprise, relief washing over her that he wasn't upset, before she closed her eyes and sunk into the kiss. His hands pulled her close and she hauled herself closer, her heels giving her another four-inches that she normally lacked, something Sherlock seemed to appreciate if his hum of approval was anything to go by.

'Oi!' John interrupted brusquely. 'Am I the only one who's upset by the fact that my girlfriend leads a secret life?'

Panting and disheveled, Sherlock smirked down at Molly with a wicked gleam in his eye before bending down and flipping her over his shoulder.

'Oh!' She exclaimed before dissolving into giggles.

'Yes,' Sherlock responded dryly as he walked past the gobsmacked John. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, my 'Angel' and I have some… confessing to do.'

Molly giggled and waved an upside-down goodbye to Mary as Sherlock carried her out the door. She knew John would come around eventually and probably be just as 'interested' in their job as Sherlock.

'I'll see you Monday, Anthea.'

'You'd better make that Wednesday,' Sherlock smirked above her.

Molly giggled even as her face turned crimson.

Before Anthea could respond with her typical snark, Molly plucked the mic from her ear and tossed it to the ground.