Prompt fill for Anon. This was fun to write, because who doesn't love Sherlock underestimating Molly? With a little bit of protective Sherlock thrown in for good measure.


Sherlock was running, desperately trying to reach his destination before something horrible happened. He had been investigating Sebastian Moran, Moriarty's elusive second-in-command, when a text had him rushing towards Molly Hooper's flat, a terror unlike any he had known flowing through his veins.

I rather like your pathologist. Let's see how long before I make her scream.

He tripped on a crack in the pavement but kept going, oblivious to the bloody scrapes adorning his arm. He briefly noted that something wet was dripping down his arm but brushed the thought aside. He had more pertinent concerns. If anything happens to Molly…. He blocked that train of thought, refusing to believe he would be too late to rescue his pathologist.

He reached her building just as one of her neighbors was leaving and shoved the affronted woman aside. He sprinted up the steps, halting briefly when he noticed that her door was left open. He swallowed down the ominous feeling in his gut and walked into the flat. "Molly!" he yelled into the empty sitting room.

He was searching the kitchen when he heard a strangled noise from down the hall. He hurried toward what he knew to be her bedroom, stopping at the entrance to the room.

Molly Hooper was sitting cross-legged on her bed, breathing heavily and staring at a huge, blonde man. She was clutching a knife in her trembling hands. Pieces of a shattered vase decorated the floor surrounding an unconscious Sebastian Moran, lying face down on the hardwood floor. Blood seeped from his head, creeping towards where Sherlock stood in the doorway.

Sherlock rapidly took in the scene, deducing what had happened. Apparently, Molly could take better care of herself than he realized.

The woman did not acknowledge him, still gazing intently at the aftermath of her struggle with Moran. Sherlock carefully avoided the mess and went over to her, intent on removing the sharp object from her grasp and alerting her to his presence.

She gazed up at him when he touched her arm, her eyes distant and haunted. Sherlock took the knife, placed it on her bedside table and knelt down in front of her. "Molly, it's okay," he murmured gently. "You're safe." Her shoulders slumped at his words, and she wrapped her arms around the detective, nuzzling her face into the crook between his neck and shoulder.

"H-he was w-waiting for me after w-work. We fought, and I hit him before I realized what was happening. I grabbed the knife from the kitchen in case he woke up."

His fingers were tangled in her hair as he listened to her rambling explanation. He retrieved the phone resting on the duvet beside her with one hand and texted DI Lestrade to come to Molly's flat immediately.

"I came to rescue you; however, my fear for your safety was misplaced, it seems. I underestimated you once again, Dr. Hooper." In reply, she simply tightened her grip on his shirt and chuckled half-heartedly.

She pulled away after a moment, staring at him in confusion. She looked down at his free arm, still holding her phone, and gasped. "Sherlock! You're bleeding! Why didn't you say something?!" Her concern for him apparently outweighed her distress over her predicament, because she jumped up and pushed him towards her bathroom where her first aid kit was kept.

"Molly!" He interrupted her frantic rummaging through her cupboards. "It is unimportant. All that matters is that you are safe." She smiled and quickly lifted herself up to kiss his cheek, before snatching her first aid kit and turning her attention back to his arm.


Review?