A twist on the text Let's have Dinner. Maybe Irene wants to add someone onto the invitation.
Sherlock sat in the kitchen, waiting for Molly to get home so they could make their dinner reservations at Angelo's but she was already a half hour late. He had turned his phone all the way up so he could hear if she texted, but all he heard was the illicit sound of Irene Adler's annoying moan.
After another 10 minutes he went to pick up his phone, noticing the message from Irene and ignoring it before going right into his contacts to find Molly's number. He waited as it rang and his heart stopped at the chuckle he heard on the other end.
"I asked about dinner with you... but who do I find instead? I guess the reservation has gone up a number. If you want her back Sherlock you are going to have to come and find me."
"Irene-"
"No threats you naughty boy. Come find me, and you will find your little mouse. She is a little tuckered out at the moment but I can always wake her up. Shall I? Or will you come and hunt me... well I guess us, down?" She hung up before he could get anything else out of her.
Sherlock took off for the stairs, taking them two at a time, if he had trusted that the sides wouldn't come off he would have just skidded down like a boy, but he knew better and an injury would not help matters.
He grabbed his Belfast, popped his collar up and walked out. He saw the purse and lunch bag that Molly always used and went to pick it up. Nothing was inside the lunch which meant that she hadn't taken her this morning... but her purse had everything in it that she was bringing home. The severed pinky toes were all accounted for, but the ears were missing.
Sherlock got on his phone as he hailed a cab and called John. Told him to get to Lestrade and track Molly's phone. He was headed to that abandoned factory she had once taken John to when she revealed that she was alive.
John had gotten the ping on Molly's phone half way there, forcing Sherlock to make the Cab turn back around and head straight to Angelos.
He got there, had the cab drop him off two blocks south and started to walk up. He saw one man outside the door, obviously standing there as a warning. John had told him that he and Lestrade were on their way in a text before he informed Sherlock that he had also called Mycroft in on the matter.
Sherlock got closer to the man outside, but Irene stepped out and smiled at him before waving him in. So, he gave up the charade of trying to sneak in, and just walked into the restaurant.
Molly's hands were holding each other like he had done that morning before kissing her goodbye, the rope keeping them bound tightly with a thin rope, but it was still too thick to get out of. She looked to have been crying, her cheeks were flushed and her right had slight swelling. "You alright?" He asked kneeling beside her. The sight reminded him of what the men who had been after Irene had done to Mrs. Hudson once and he knew that if the man outside had done this to her... he was going to get worse than just falling out a window a couple times.
"I can't believe you ever helped her." Molly whispered to him and he reached up, cupping her cheek that wasn't bruised and then running his thumb over her trembling lower lip.
"Hands off Mr. Holmes. And please, sit. We are finally going to have that dinner." Irene had her riding crop in her hands, flexing it as if about to break a pencil before letting it be.
He moved to sit by Molly, to perhaps shield her from Irene but she clicked her tongue, slapped the table making Molly not only jump but whimper and he knew... deep down, it had been Irene that had hit her.
"You seem quite pleased with yourself Irene." Sherlock sat where she had made him, keeping his eyes trained on not only her, but the riding crop. Making sure that he would notice it's movements if it even came close to Molly again.
"I am very pleased. Who knew that you were a threesome kind of man. If I had known all it took was for little Miss Molly to come along I would have invited her ages ago." Irene sat down now. Smirking and looking at Sherlock only. Molly started to fidget.
"How did you know I was outside?" He asked her and she just smirked.
"Same way you found us. You pinged her mobile, and I had pinged yours. That is how I knew where you were and when you found us. Sorry for the bruise darling, but she just wouldn't wake up." Irene looked over to Molly, no sense of apathy emanating from her at all. In fact Molly could tell that she likes seeing Molly tied and bruised. And not in a sexual way. She could tell that Irene hated her for getting something she never could get. Sherlock's real attention.
"A bruise will fade... so will you." Sherlock couldn't believe how bold Molly's words were, the scared and worry had seeped out of her and Sherlock was starting to worry. He knew Irene was used to a certain type of woman tied up at her side... but Molly wasn't a weak mouse like she assumed.
"Getting brave now that Sherlock is here? How cute." Irene started to face Molly but before anything else was said or done, a window was being broken by a body, the guard outside, with John on top of him.
Things happened in the next five seconds that Sherlock had missed. He turned to make sure John was okay, and Irene had gone to the last resort. She had a gun pulled, a very small pistol, she had Molly in front of her, gun to her temple.
"Hello again John. My my, I didn't think this could turn into a party. I should have dressed better. I know this one here doesn't have anything as nice-" Molly struggled, cutting Irene off and John and Sherlock were both up and looking for ways to get between them.
"Molly, eyes on me." Sherlock called out when he saw her eyes shut, her entire body on edge and tears leaking out.
"Oh dear, is she a mess again? I told you that Sherlock likes-" Molly had enough. She moved her head forward, bringing it back with all her ability and smashing Irene's nose, causing her to cry out, to drop the gun to her head and grab her face.
"I know what Sherlock likes. And it is not you." Molly told her as she kicked the gun towards John and backed up until Sherlock wrapped her in his arms. Kissing the temple that the gun had been pressed to before turning her around and getting her untied.
"How is your head? Anything hurt?" Sherlock didn't care that Irene was bleeding on the floor, he cared about Molly's now bruised wrists, her bruised cheek, her state of mind.
"I'll have a headache but that is more from her talking than her crooked nose." Molly said as Irene finally stopped fussing about and was able to hear her.
"I love you." Sherlock whispered, pulling her in for a tight hug as he heard Lestrade call out if anyone else was in the building.
"I love you too." Molly whispered and her hands moved under the coat, touching his warmer body and he held on tighter when he realized she was cold.
"You two okay then?" John asked once Mycroft's men and come and taken care of Irene Adler.
"Yeah, were going to head home. Get an ice pack on her face and head... can you check her over in the morning just in case?" Sherlock took over the situation. Molly was just another limb to him at that moment. Something so close to him that he needed to take care of just as if it were himself. Except, he rarely asked John to look him over after being hurt. So, it was more like Sherlock acting as if she were the most delicate glass object he ever saw.
"Of course. See you in the morning. Get some sleep if you can Molly, if things progress and you can't sleep-"
"I will sleep just fine." Molly told him with a small shake of her head and he just nodded.
"I am only a call away." John told them but Molly seemed more interested in Sherlock now taking off his Belfast and putting it around her smaller frame. She didn't see the way John was watching them, but Sherlock did and he sent John a look that told him to keep his mouth shut before he steered Molly outside, into Lestrade's patrol car for a ride home to Baker Street and when they got there he carried her up the stairs.
"What the hell did you do that for Molly?" Sherlock asked her after laying down in bed with her. She had a shower, she was now sporting a huge bruise on her right cheek and her head was killing her.
"I did it because she was annoying me. She had a gun to my head. She was going to shoot me Sherlock."
"Yeah, which is why you don't strike a person with a gun to your temple." He told her sitting up now, turning over in bed and looking at her. "What would have happened to me if she had shot you on instinct rather than drop the gun?"
"She would have moved the gun on impact, not towards me since the hit came from straight on and she might have actually shot your way." Molly explained her idea and Sherlock had to admit, when it came to hitting someone with a finger on the trigger they usually only fire after they had moved from their target and more often than not, unless a trained killer, they would move the gun away from the intended target or hostage.
"How did you know that?"
"I know human reactions Sherlock. I do live with you, and I have known you for over 10 years."
"You don't just live with me Molly. We're engaged and-"
"No we're not." Molly laughed making him stop and he reassessed the words he had let spew out of his mouth and he gulped.
"If tonight had gone according to plan I would have hoped you would be wearing the ring I had gone through hell to get for you." Sherlock told her and she looked a little confused. "Funny enough we were supposed to go to Angelo's. Going to have the whole place to ourselves besides the cook. I was going to get to dance with you and I was going to propose to you.. but you know what Molly Hooper? You aren't going to be asked. You are being told, right here, right now, in our bed, that you are going to marry me and I will have no arguments." Sherlock got up, went to get his coat before taking the ring out and he walked back to the bed, noticing how Molly was tearing up and she watched him slip the family jewels onto her hand and she hiccupped and looked at it.
"What kind of hell did you have to go through?" Molly asked as he laid back down with her.
"Remember when I told you I was on a case for two days in Liverpool?"
"Last week? Yeah." She laid her head on his chest as he gathered her close.
"Well, that case wasn't in Liverpool, it wasn't a case. I went to see my parents to ask for my mothers ring. It was my fathers mothers engagement ring, and they gave it to my parents since they were the first to propose and get married. As Mycroft is never getting married and the closest my sister has ever come to having a lover is Jim Moriarty… I was clearly the winner of the family ring." He told her and she looked at the ring again.
"It's perfect. I took door my first madman... woman, and then I get engaged with a swollen face and headache."
"Hey... at least we can tell Rosie an interesting story one day." Sherlock got her to laugh as she started to drift off on his chest.
He held her close that night, and every night on. Knowing that she could have been taken in a flash or bang, he would never take that for granted again.
Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.