Author's Note: Couldn't wait to post the next chapter. Hope you enjoy... Don't worry lots of John and Sherlock coming soon.
Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.
When she woke up, the men were gone, but so were her clothes. She looked around and found herself laying behind a dumpster and covered with a cardboard box and some garbage bags...almost as if she was tossed aside as garbage once they were done with her. She shivered.
She was in so much pain and was tempted to lie there a little longer but she could feel the blood dripping down from her temple. She rolled to her side and moaned. She looked around and saw her clothes nearby. Suddenly she heard something across the alley and her heart raced. Maybe the men aren't gone after all... but instead she saw a rat scamper off out of the corner of her eye. Normally she would scream at the sight of a rat but, instead, she sighed in relief.
'Oh God,' She whimpered as she closed her eyes again and reached out for her jeans and jumper, 'Oh God.'
She dressed as the tears streamed down her face and she frantically searched the alley for her purse and her keys but Jim's men must have taken them because she couldn't find them anywhere. She doubled over with pain in her abdomen and sinked back to the pavement and began to sob. As she sat there, she felt her phone in her back pocket. It seemed they didn't get everything...
Bringing it up to her face, she realized she didn't know who to call. Not the police or DI Lestrade. Definitely not Sherlock. She loved him with all her heart but she couldn't... she couldn't let him or any of them see her like this...so broken and damaged. How would she ever be able to look any of them in the eye again? She curled into a ball and realized there was really only one person she could call...the right person. He was a doctor after all.
She ran through her contacts quickly and found John's number. She pressed call and it rang once.
'What!?"
'John?' She croaked - realizing quickly how much it hurt to talk and that it wasn't John.
'John isn't here, Molly.'
' Help me' - Wait - did she say that out loud or not? Her head hurt so much.
'John isn't here, Molly. That dumb twit left his phone here so I couldn't text him on his date. What if something happens? How am I supposed to get a hold of him?' Sherlock ranted oblivious to what Molly said.
'Sherlock?'
'Yes, Molly. Obviously. What's wrong with your voice?'
'Sherlock. Help... Sherlock, help me.' She whimpered as she felt the pain taking over. 'I saw a cat... but then these men came... in a back alley... It's getting so cold.' She shivered and started to lose focus but knew she gave him the right clue and that he was on his way.
'Molly!' She heard come from her phone as it clattered to the ground right before she blacked out.