Prompt from Anonymous: A hostage situation at St Bart's makes it difficult for Sherlock to get to Molly/make sure she's okay.


Sherlock and John had just completed a rather demanding case involving a show dog kidnapping ring and were now headed to St. Bart's to see if Molly had any specimens for the consulting detective to experiment with.

Sherlock hummed to himself as they ambled quickly toward the hospital, the shorter man scurrying to keep up with his long-legged partner. He knew Sherlock was anxious to see his pathologist, as they had not spent any time together in nearly a week. The two had been together for just over six weeks, now, and John had never seen his flat mate happier.

John, lost in thought, ran right into his friend, who gave him a glare before quickly turning his attention back to the scene in front of them. John's mouth dropped open at the sight.

Police surrounded the front of the building, a barricade set up to keep anyone from entering or exiting. Sherlock spied DI Lestrade amid the mass of people and stormed over to him, demanding answers. Lestrade at least had the sense to look down at his feet, ashamed.

"Now, Sherlock, don't overreact," he mumbled, afraid of the detective's ire.

"What is going on, Lestrade? Or do you want me to deduce it?"

"Apparently, a man stormed into the morgue, insisting that he be allowed to see his wife, recently deceased. Unfortunately, the pathologist on duty already sent the body on for funeral arrangements. Now, the man is ordering that she be brought back, or he will open fire on everyone in the morgue. The hospital is on complete lock down." Fear flashed across Sherlock's face, so brief that only someone in tune with him would be able to discern it. John Watson did.

Sherlock glared at the sheepish detective inspector for a moment, upset that he was not called immediately. He marched away abruptly and attempted to step through the barricade, but was stopped by both of his friends.

"Let me go! I need to make sure she's safe!" Sherlock begged. John was worried now. Never in their entire friendship had he seen Sherlock resort to pleading.

"I can't let you do that, mate," Lestrade replied. "For all I know, you would say something horrible and end up getting everyone, including yourself, killed. For now, you'll just have to stand back and let us work."

Sherlock sighed heavily but made no move to argue further. As they waited for the police to bring the situation under control, Sherlock paced back and forth, muttering incoherently under his breath. The doctor could not imagine what he must be going through. If it were Mary instead…. No, he refused to finish that thought.

A motion behind Sherlock caught John's attention, and he smiled for the first time in nearly an hour. "Sherlock!" he called. His flat mate merely waved him off, still lost in his own mind.

His movements ceased, however, as a small hand touched his back. "Sherlock?" a quiet voice asked, barely audible over the ruckus behind them. "Is everything alright?"

The young woman jumped as Sherlock turned around and crushed his lips to hers. Molly reciprocated for a moment, her hands taking residence in his dark curls, before pulling away and looking at him questioningly, his ice blue eyes gazing intently into hers. "What's wrong?"

"I thought…. No, it doesn't matter. You are safe." John believed he would stop there, but the detective continued after noticing the confusion on Molly's face. "There is a gunman in the morgue, threatening the pathologist," he explained to his girlfriend.

"I was working in the lab this morning. I stepped out to grab a bite to eat and noticed the commotion when I returned. Dr. Campbell was on duty today. You don't think he's hurt, do you?!"

Sherlock pulled the pathologist back to him and stroked her hair. "I am certain he will be fine, Molly. I am merely relieved that you are, as well." The statement was as close to confessing his feelings in public as Sherlock could muster, and John shared a grin with Lestrade as they witnessed the exchange.


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