Summary: Character death. Shit hitting the fan VERY quickly.

Author's Note: Sorry (I'm not sorry).

Chapter 7: Pocket full of Posies

"Hurry Up." Sherlock said as he vaulted over the next building. He ran over the roof top hopping to the next. John grunted as he hopped over after him. Everyone was quickly jumped behind him.

John shielded his eyes with his hand as he looked at the sun. They'd been traveling for a day and a half now and they'd barely made any progress getting out of London. He never noticed just how far things were until he wasn't able to hail a taxi.

John looked down into the deep drop to the street. The sick pooled out of every alleyway and stood around every corner. He stared at their staggering forms. The sick never slept and they were always present. Always in the next alleyway ready to grab them. Always moaning down the hallways. Always hungry.

A hand clap on his back shocked John out of his thoughts. He shied away from the roof edge. "Don't." Dimmock said. "They'll drive you crazy, remember."

John looked away. The two hopped to the next roof where everyone was gathered around the edge. Sherlock was staring over it as they waited. He sighed. The jump to the next building was too far even for his long legs. If they fell, they could die or worse live long enough to get eaten.

Sherlock grabbed the ledge lowering himself onto the fire escape as quietly as he could. One by one they all followed him to the bottom and then they were on the ground again. John looked down the alleyway to their left, there was nothing there.

Putting a finger over his lips, Sherlock looked around the side of the building. He motioned them to follow and they moved into the open. Hiding behind trash cans, they snuck like thieves around the sick passing nearby.

Donovan held back a gasp as a sick came too close and brushed against her trash cans. She let out a shaky breath. Donovan looked over the edge after the sick passed out of view. She checked her clip before slamming it back in. "We're pretty naked out here." she mumbled. She was ready to shoot anything that stumbled by if need be.

Sherlock looked around. He opened his mouth to speak. A bloodcurdling scream pierced through the streets. They, and every sick nearby, turned to a couple of woman rushing down the road. Everyone ducked as the sick began to move as one toward the woman. Sherlock looked over the trashcans. He cocked his head, staring hard at the struggling woman. "Molly?" he said. His eyes widened and he leaped over the cans.

Lestrade was behind him with John in tow. Sherlock went against his gut and yelled. "Molly!"

Molly turned. Tired eyes widened when she saw them. Molly tugged the woman along with her. The woman was older, possibly in her mid-forties and screaming bloody murder.

Sherlock reached them first. "Make her stop."

Molly shook the screaming woman. "Mum, you need to stop screaming." But it was no use, she kept screaming as sick poured out of every orifice. Mangled bodies dragged themselves from destroyed cars grunting and snapping their jaws. They crawled out of windows unaware of the glass cutting through their bellies and dragging their intestines behind them. Sherlock pulled Molly over and the screaming woman struggled. She pulled away dragging Molly with her.

Molly grabbed her mother. "Mum! It's Sherlock!"

Her mother stopped. "Sherlock? I-" She screamed as a sick grabbed her from behind by her neck. It bit harshly into her throat and blood poured in steady streams as she continued screaming. She stopped screaming as one sick became two and then three and then they were all on her grabbing for meat. Molly screamed as the blood soaked her lab coat.

Anderson shot a sick near his feet. "We need to go." he yelled over the moaning. They were in the middle of a feeding frenzy. Dimmock grabbed Molly and pulled her toward the rest of them and they ran.

Bullets cut through sick bodies and crumbled in their path. Lestrade dry fired into the crowd. "Fuck, I'm out."

Sally ducked as a sick reached for her. "I'm out too."

John shot another sick fumbling their way. Dimmock caught his eye. "Dimmock, behind you!"

Dimmock turned as the sick grabbed him. Holding him in a vice grip, it gnawed into his arm. Molly jumped back and grabbed his gun. She shot straight through the sick's head. Dimmock pushed the body away. He looked at the bleeding hole in his arm before looking at John.

Snatching his gun from Molly, he pushed her toward John and took off into the crowd. Grabbing a brick, he broke windows and whacked poles. Grabbing a trash can lid, he ran it against the walls as he ran. The sounds echoed and the sick turned his way. He shot everything in his path as he tore up the street.

Lestrade ran over to them. "What is he doing?" he shouted over the moaning.

John grabbed Molly's hand. "Causing a distraction." he pulled them both forward. "Run." They ran to the others and bolted for the nearest deserted building.

John only chanced a look back. Dimmock stood on top of a car. The sick reached and bit for his legs but he wasn't paying attention. He was staring at the sky. Making eyes at the horizon, he raised his gun. John looked away. He pretended he didn't hear the shot when it came.

John pushed the barricade against the door with what little strength he had left. Everyone stood at the ends of the room. Donovan bandaged up Anderson's forehead as he winced at the smallest touch. She continued to apologize as she worked. Lestrade held Molly against his chest. Molly didn't say a word. She didn't move. Lestrade held her anyway.

A single moan floated from the hallway and Molly lost her composure. Burying her face into Lestrade's uniform, she began to cry. Everyone sat in silence listening to her cry.

Sherlock sighed. "Molly." he said.

She didn't answer him. He tried again. "Molly." She shook her head. Sherlock's mouth flattened into a thin line. "Miss Hooper." he snapped.

Everyone's head snapped up as he took a deep breath. "There are sick around. Your crying will attract them. Let's not lose anyone else today."

Anderson saw red. "Listen here you freak-"

"-No you listen." Sherlock snapped again. He stood inches from Anderson. "Unless you want the sick breaking through that barricade. We all need to be quiet until it settles."

John stopped him. "Sherlock, that's a bit harsh."

"A bit?" Donovan said pulling Molly from Lestrade and against her chest. "She's allowed to grieve for a minute."

Sherlock glared mutely before taking a deep breath. His shoulders slumped and he gently took Molly from Donovan. He rested his hands on her shoulders. "Molly," He pulled her closer, gently rubbing her back. "I'm sorry for your loss. No one should have to experience that. But if you don't learn how to keep moving forward, this world is going to kill you." He said firmly.

She stared up at him. "What am I supposed to do? I'm sad. I'm angry. Am I supposed to just forget my mum? Dimmock? Everyone? I saw so many people die."

Sherlock sighed pulling her away. Looking around, he ripped an exposed pipe from the wall. "No don't forget them," he pushed it into her hand "just let your anger out on them."

Molly held the pipe in hand. It was a black pipe and cold to the touch. Her fingers clenched around it.

Sherlock smiled slightly brushing a stray tear from her face. "No more tears." She nodded slowly turning toward the side door. Lestrade and the other looks around the next room and John stopped Sherlock.

He didn't say a word and Sherlock sighed. "She needs to learn now. Crying gets you nowhere. Sentiment is a crutch. She'll die if she holds onto something too hard." Sherlock closed the door softly behind him. "It's the things we love most that kill us."

John stared at his friend as he followed him down the hall. He didn't like where this was going. But in a world where it's kill or be killed, he didn't have much of a choice. John shook the thought from his head catching up to the others. They'd have a long way to go before they made it out of the city.