APPLEDORE TUNNELS
Molly did her best to keep up with Sherlock's longer stride. As she stumbled through the darkness her thoughts were in chaos.
Could she trust him? He was a cyborg after all.
Did he know what he was now? She was almost certain that he didn't.
How would he react when he found out?
She stopped in her tracks, how would he react indeed. And what would he do…?
Molly had just turned, intending to go back the way she came when Sherlock's rich, if somewhat impatient baritone had her frozen in mid turn.
"Why have you stopped?"
Molly turned back, to find him standing right in front of her, illuminating her face with the torch he kept in his coat. He peered down intently at her, clearly awaiting her response.
For her part, Molly was once again overwhelmed by his presence, and not just her reaction to him as an omega. Her gaze lingered on his full lips, his aristocratic nose, his beautifully sculptured cheekbones, and those incredible eyes.
Eyes that were clearly demanding a response to his unanswered enquiry.
Molly had to do some very quick thinking. She dare not broach the real reason. She chose to deflect rather than answer.
"How is it you're able to navigate your way through these tunnels?"
"Not that difficult," he replied. "I'm simply following your scent."
Even though he'd already proved contrary, Molly still tried. "But that's impossible," she argued in vain. "Other alphas can't sense me."
As he'd done in the lab, Sherlock invaded her personal space, leaning down he murmured in her ear. "I'm not most alpha's."
He straightened, turned and continued making his way down the tunnel. "The way you got in is just around the corner. Do hurry up."
Molly let out a resigned sigh. A cyborg he may now be. But he was still full alpha.
Molly took a deep breath. It was a relief to be out of those horrible tunnels. She wasn't one for confined spaces, she hated seeing anything caged…
She glanced over at Sherlock who was currently striding about, trying to decide the best direction to go.
The rain at least had stopped and for that Molly was grateful.
"I'm Molly by the way," she said as Sherlock strode past her. "Molly Hooper, in case you're interested."
Sherlock stopped and looked at her. She could almost see the cogs and wheels whirling inside his head as he tried to process how he should respond to her statement.
In the end he decided on. "I'm Sherlock Holmes."
"Yes I know."
He nodded towards the direction he had decided on. "We need to go that way."
"Where are we heading?"
"I need to get to London," he replied.
Molly's face went deathly pale. London was the one place that she most definitely did not want to go. She'd barely escaped with her life. Going back was simply not an option.
She could see the determination on his face. He clearly knew the dangers, or no longer feared them. Whatever the case, he'd just given her the perfect excuse to part company.
"Well if you want to get there by nightfall you'd better start now."
Sherlock looked at her curiously. "Yes, we will."
Molly shook her head adamantly. "Sorry, but you're on your own."
When she moved past him, Sherlock gripped her firmly by the upper arm and marched her in the direction of London. "No my little omega, you're coming with me."
Molly struggled, but it was simply impossible to escape his firm hold. Part of her was pleased, dangerous as it was she was drawn to him. She'd heard the stories about what it was like to find your one true mate. That was how this felt. But with him being a cyborg that was impossible. She could only hope that even though her suppressants had no affect on him, that they would at the very least inhibit her from going into heat.
With so many emotions churning inside her, Molly decided to go with petulant to mask her true turmoil.
"Why did I bother rescuing you?" she muttered under her breath.
Of course he heard her.
"You didn't rescue me."
"I didn't," she responded with surprise. "Then what did I do?"
He turned, looked down at her, the barest trace of a smile on his lips. "You kidnapped me."
Molly stopped, causing Sherlock to do likewise. He lifted an enquiring eyebrow.
"If I've kidnapped you, why aren't you resisting?" she asked somewhat perplexed.
"I'm… curious."
"Curious about what?"
He looked deeply into her big brown eyes. "You."
LONDON
London was in ruins. It had been the focal point for some of the most intense fighting.
As with just about every other place they'd seen, Sherlock and Molly encountered death and destruction everywhere.
Debris littered the streets, as did bodies, left where they had fallen. And as with any disaster looters had been busy, grabbing anything they could get their hands on.
Sherlock shielded Molly from as much of it as he could.
He guided her swiftly down Baker St., keeping a firm hold of her hand as he kept an eye out for any potential danger.
When they reached a door with 221B on it, he let out an audible sigh of relief. Reaching into his jacket pocket he pulled out a key unlocked the door and led Molly inside.
Molly sat quietly on the sofa in Sherlock's flat.
There was no power, which wasn't surprising. But they did for the time being at least have running water.
Sherlock had gone to his landlady, Mrs Hudson's flat to see if he could find any candles.
Molly was relieved to have a little time to herself, she needed to consider what had happened since escaping Appledore.
She found as time went by that she grew more at ease with Sherlock. There had been a number of occasions when she completely forgot that he was a cyborg.
But just as they approached the outskirts of London he'd begun suffering intense headaches. He would drop to his knees, holding his head and groaning in agony.
She knew it had to be his body either fighting or adjusting to his new enhancements.
With nothing to relieve the pain they'd simply had to stop wherever they were and wait each episode out.
The only solution they had found, they discovered by accident.
One episode had been so strong that Molly insisted Sherlock lay down with his head on her lap. No sooner had he rested his head than she gave in to an impulse. She began combing her fingers through his hair. Within moments he was fast asleep.
Since then he'd become more protective of her.
But she still worried. How would he feel when his memories of what Moriarty and Moran did to him returned?
At that moment Sherlock walked back into the flat. He triumphantly carried a couple of candles and a box of matches.
Both were exhausted. Sherlock went to his bedroom and came back with a pillow and a blanket.
"You're certain you wouldn't prefer my bed?" he asked.
Molly felt her cheeks flush pink.
"The sofa's fine," she quickly replied. "And anyway you wouldn't fit."
Sherlock gave her an odd look then shrugged. He picked up a candle, leaving the other with Molly.
"Goodnight Molly Hooper."
"Goodnight Sherlock."
