Author Note: Thanks to everyone who is following already and posted reviews. If you haven't already, please R&R.

This was a hard chapter to write...too many concerned citizens it seems have Molly lashing out like a wounded animal by the end. Please read it that way and not as it being terribly OOC.

Hope you enjoy...

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.

Just then John came walking towards him.

'Sherlock - what's going on? You call me on my date and tell me an address and to come at once and that's it! What do you take me for?'

As he reached the scene, he registered what was going on and what - or rather whom - Sherlock was crouching next to.

'Molly?' He whispered, 'Sherlock, what's happened here? What's going on?'

Sherlock remained silent but Molly turned her head to look at him. Almost immediately he went into triage mode. He could see the bruising almost entirely encircling her neck. The bruises were so bad he suspected they would be able to get fingerprints from them. He was surprised she could even move her head let alone breath. He leaned closer to look at the wound on her forehead and pushed a wisp of her hair aside. She seized up at his touch but then turned her face a little more towards him knowing what he was doing. Blunt force trauma to her temple likely from the butt of a gun based on the size and pattern of the bruise he quickly deduced.

'John?' she said as she looked up to him with her eyes big and bright with fear.

'I'm here, Molly' He stared back at her with concern as he grazed his fingers across her temples and down her cheeks and to her jawbone checking for any broken bones.

'John - I tried calling but you weren't there. I don't want them to see me like this. I don't... I don't...' She faltered and bit her lip. Tears welling in her eyes.

'I know, honey... I know. But they are coming to help. It will be okay.'

He pulled put a pen light from his jacket pocket to check her pupils. As he leaned over her, she grabbed his hand.

'Don't leave me, okay? They might come back. Jim might come back. I am so scared that they might find me again...' she said with a shaky voice as she closed her eyes.

'I won't, Molly. I promise I won't leave you.' John said.

'We won't, Molly. We will keep you safe.' Sherlock echoed still holding his hand to her shoulder trying to comfort her with their presence as they saw Lestrade and an ambulance pull up at the entrance of the alley.

oOoOo

'Safe?! How the hell do we keep her safe from that maniac? Jesus, Sherlock. What the hell happened in that alley?' John yelled in the hospital corridor as he paced back and forth waiting to see if Molly was okay.

'John - It is obvious what happened. Any idiot could see from the scene what happened.' Sherlock said as he sat in a plastic visitor's chair with his hands steepled to his chin.

Stopping directly in front of him, John glared.

'Christ, man. She is our friend. She isn't some crime scene... She's ... She's Molly and right now she is lying in there scared shitless and for what? Because she dated the wrong man? Because he is some type of psycho who can't keep his head on straight?'

'I know...' Sherlock hissed, 'I know. I'm not a robot, John. Believe it or not, I am worried about her too. I saw the terror in her eyes. I saw the way she flinched when I tried to touch her. That damn cat!'

'What cat?'

'John!' He sighed and wiped his face with frustration. 'Obviously she saw a cat and that's why she was in the alley. Didn't you see the stray gray cat hairs on the cuffs of her jeans and on her wrist? We have see her often enough to know her cat is white, so there must have been a different cat that she followed. If she hadn't went down that alley to follow that cat, she wouldn't be an exam room right now!'

'Men!' a nurse shushed them as she approached pushing a battered and hollowed looking Molly in a wheelchair.

'Molly?' They said almost in unison.

'She'll be alright, dears. We're all done here for now. Molly, Sgt. Donovan will be by in a couple days to check on you and to take the rest of your statement. Okay?'

Molly didn't even look like she registered what the nurse said she seemed so deep in thought ... almost as if she was somewhere else...but the nurse took the silence as an agreement that that was fine.

'Why don't you two take her home and make sure she gets some tea and some rest. That's really what she needs right now. Once she feels up to it, have her call the number on the card I gave her.'

John looked down at the card held in Molly's hand. He could see that it is for a rape counselor. Their worst fears confirmed, or John's anyway - Sherlock looked as though he knew all along. They trailed behind the nurse as she pushed Molly to the door.

Sherlock stepped to the street and hailed a cab.

'I trust you will take care of her, Doctor? Please make sure she takes these pills and gets lots of rest.'

'Of course.' he said as the nurse handed him a prescription and patted Molly on the shoulder (not registering the pained look on Molly's face from the contact) before walking back inside.

Sherlock's cab pulled up and John knelt next to Molly capturing her eye. 'Hey, Molly. Hey. Can you walk or do you need me to ... help?'

She flinched as she realized that he was asking her if she needed him to lift her into the cab. She was so tired of people touching her and she knew it was just John...just John being who he was, the protector, the healer, the one who wanted to take up your burden for you if you couldn't but she just couldn't let him do this for her this time. She needed to do this on her own. She wasn't sure why... or why she had such a strong need at that moment to get away from everyone and go home to lick her wounds. They were just trying their best for her but maybe if she could just get home and get to bed, everyone would stop staring at her with pity and concern especially John and Sherlock...stop thinking about her as the damaged goods that she now knew she must be...stop wanting to touch her...comfort her... and just leave her be.

'Please don't. I can walk. Please just take me home.' She put her hands down on the chair's arms and pushed herself up to stand.

'Molly, you can't go home. Moriarty's men have your keys and your address. We need to make sure your are safe until those bastards are captured.'

She sighed with resignation and hobbled the few steps to the cab in obvious pain. 'Then take me someplace safe.' she said stumbling a little as she got in but then flinching as Sherlock reached out to catch her.

'I'm fine!' she said swatting him away frustratedly. 'Let's just go.'

'You're fine? Really?!' Sherlock said exasperatedly as his eyebrows shoot up. He looked to John for backup, but John just shook his head silently telling him to calm the hell down and let her be.

'Fine.' he said gritting his teeth as he got into the cab followed quickly by John. He turned to the cabbie and said '221B Baker Street and step on it.'