Prompt fill for an Anon on Tumblr. I hope you like it! (On a side note, if you haven't noticed already, I have a head canon that John and Mary ship Sherlolly. No one will ever convince me otherwise.)


Sherlock ran, faster than he had in his entire life. A simple text from John Watson, and his heart had stopped. Fear gripped him so tightly that he was surprised to still be breathing.

Molly hurt. Currently at St. Bart' come quickly. –JW

After Sherlock's faked death and return to the living, his relationship with Molly had blossomed. It was by no means romantic. Sherlock had scoffed at the idea when John mentioned it, but he did share a mutual respect with the woman that had been lacking previously (on his part, at least).

The thought that Molly could be hurt, or worse,dying, struck Sherlock deep within his soul. He did not comprehend exactly why he was so anxious to reach her, ensure that she was safe, but he knew that he needed to see her as soon as possible.

He rushed through the doors of the hospital, striding up to the woman at the front desk and demanding to know where his pathologist was being kept. The woman, hands clutched to her chest in fear, stuttered out a room number before he stalked off without so much as a thank you. Sherlock did not hear her affronted shout as the lift doors shut behind him.

Finally reaching the correct floor of the hospital, Sherlock rushed out, practically running down the hall in his haste to find Molly. He stopped as he located the room. The door was slightly ajar, and he could just make out the muffled sound of voices.

"You're certain you're all right, Molly?" Sherlock heard his flat mate ask, John's tone laced with concern.

"Yes! Like I said before, it's just a minor sprain! I should be fine in a few weeks!" Molly's exasperated voice drifted into the hall where Sherlock was standing, and he let out a breath. At least she was going to be okay. He waited for a moment, willing his heart to stop pounding so furiously, and pushed on the door.

It sprang open to reveal the figure of Molly Hooper sitting on a white (severely uncomfortable-looking) hospital bed, her wrist wrapped in a bandage. She jumped at the sound of the door hitting the wall but relaxed when she saw Sherlock standing in the doorway. She gave him a small, tired smile which he returned with a tight-lipped one of his own.

"I trust you are well, Molly," Sherlock began, trying to ignore the way his chest clenched at the sight of Molly's warm smile, directed exclusively at him.

"Well, yes, but… why are you here, Sherlock? I thought you were out on an important case. A nine, I believe you said?" She tipped her head to the side, observing his tense posture.

"I…. Well, John said…." He glared over at his blogger, who was snickering quietly to himself. His text message had been intentionally misleading, then. Obviously, a scheme to force him to confront his feelings. "Never mind, Molly. I needed to speak with John."

Molly gave him a knowing smile as he led his flat mate out of her room, closing the door behind him.

"See? I knew you liked her!" John clapped him on the shoulder, grinning up at his friend. "Why won't you just admit you have feelings for little Molly Hooper?"

"Pssh, that's ridiculous, John. I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about."

Sherlock reentered Molly's room and walked up to the pathologist. "Molly, can you leave this vile place yet, or do they need to run more tests on you?"

"Oh, no, I'm free to go!" She bounded up off the bed and reached for her bag, but Sherlock had already grabbed it.

"Excellent! Coffee?"

"W-what?!" Molly stammered, staring up at the consulting detective.

"Really, Molly, I thought you had injured your wrist, not your head. Would you like to have coffee?"

"Oh! Sure!" She beamed up at him and followed him down the hall, both oblivious to John Watson, who was observing their exchange closely. He smirked when he saw Molly slip her hand into Sherlock's much larger one. He watched as the couple conversed animatedly until they turned a corner and he could no longer see them.

John whistled to himself as he turned in the other direction and started towards the lifts. Oh did he have a story for Mary tonight.