Back! I would have updated yesterday but I went to see Chicago! It was amazing! Here is the next chapter!

Molly knew what she had let herself in for. She had thought it through more thoroughly after she offered her own life for Sherlock and Johns. John was upset at the moment and yes he was grieving and not in the mood for socialising but he would recover. He would recover and settle down, get married and have a bunch of baby John's and pass down the stories of Sherlock's and his' adventures. Sherlock, well he was Sherlock, one of the greatest minds the universe had ever seen. Who was she to live if he couldn't?

Molly found herself writing a note to the detective, after all, if you're going to die then you might as well declare everything.

Sherlock,

I don't know if you're looking for me, but if you are please don't waste your time. I can't let you or John die. I wouldn't be able to live with myself. You two have so much to live for and I have nothing. Well I do have one thing, but he's the reason I am doing this. Sherlock I know that you don't understand this properly and lord knows you will never reciprocate, but I love you. Well, at first, before we started living together, you could argue that it was a bit of an infatuation, but ever since that night you held me after I had the nightmare, everything you do has just made me fall even more...apart from when you offered your life, that was just stupid.

Anyway if you have read this, just know that I didn't die for no reason, I want you to go back to John and tell him you're alive no matter how hard that may be.

Love Molly x

Ps. Find Toby a good home.

Molly kissed the piece of paper and placed the note on his pillow on her bed so that he could find it. She glanced at the clock.

23:30

It took twenty minutes by foot to get there so she grabbed her coat, made sure her cat had a full bowl of food and water and walked out the door. She would check in on John on the way there, and try to wish him goodbye without giving away that she will die twenty minutes later.

/AT THE BOTTOM OF BAKER STREET/

Lestrade was walking John back up to his flat. The ex-army doctor had been found by the police man trying to drown his sorrows, telling the barman that Sherlock was real, as was Moriarty. A slightly tipsy John saw Molly standing at the door of 221B and frowned. Why was she there?

'Molly, I don't think he is up to visitors right now.' Lestrade said with a sigh.

'No, it's important. Leave him here and I will see him in safely.' She said grabbing the key from John's coat pocket and opening the door. She allowed John to lean on her as they stumbled up the stairs.

'Whatssupp Molly?' John slurred as he slumped into Sherlocks chair. Molly had found him countless times curled up in a ball on the detectives old seat.

'Just coming to check up on you.' She said trying to smile.

'Well you came at the best time.' John joked but then his face turned serious. 'Molly, I know you mean well, but there is something wrong, please just tell me.'

'There is nothing wrong.' She lied, looking for a quick exit. 'Goodnight John, I hope you're sober enough to get your pyjamas on without killing yourself.' She smiled, bending down to give him a hug.

Buzz

From Jim Moriarty:

You're late, don't make me come looking x

Molly read the message and let a lone tear toll down her cheek, she looked up at John who stared at her with concern. Then she remembered what she was doing this for. Even after grieving over his best friend and after goodness knows how much alcohol, John was still looking out for other people. She needed to leave. Now.

'Goodbye John.' She said turning around quickly, without meeting his gaze. She started making her way to the pool.

Little did she know that someone was following her...

Being a military man, John spent a lot of time with people. He could tell when the people who worked close to him were distressed and he could tell when Sherlock was distressed, even though the detective was like a closed book. If he could deduce Sherlock's feelings then Molly Hooper was going to be a doddle. He knew she was anxious and nervous about something, so in his drunken, hazy state, he thought it would be good idea to follow her. Not that he had a stalker alter ego.

He watched her walk with her head bowed to the ground, she was walking quickly, but with small strides. Would Sherlock say that it indicated anxiety?

Anyway, she turned down onto a culdi-sac, that only had one thing at the bottom of that road. The pool where Moriarty had tried to blow him up.

'MOLLY!' he shouted, she was about to walk in the door as he turned the corner onto the road. She turned to look at him, suddenly slapping herself for leading him here.

'Go home John.' She said as she walked through the double doors. John ran to the building, pushing the doors aside. He weaved his way through the changing rooms to get to the pool itself.

He saw three silhouettes before him. Two tied up. One wearing a wicked grin.

Still not able to see the figures properly in the dark, he spoke out to the one he knew was there.

'Molly, what's going on?' his voice trembled, he waited for a reply but all he got was a muffled screech. She had been gagged.

'Hello John!' well, he would recognise that sleazy Irish accent anywhere. 'One of your friends here has been a little bit naughty.'

'What? Molly wouldn't hurt a fly! What could she have possibly have done?' John began.

'Not her DOOFAS! Geez, I forgot you were ordinary.' He sighed.

'Hello John.' A deep voice came from Molly's side. The taller figure with the curly hair.

Thanks for reading, probably will update Sunday! Please review and give some inspiration And RIP to Sir Arthur Colan Doyle, who's death anniversary is tomorrow. Remember to write 221B on your wrists to show support!