"Don't do that," Sherlock said, groaning as Molly applied pressure to the wound.
"Do you want to live?" Molly asked, tearing off another piece of her jacket's lining.
"Yes…if it's not too much…to ask," he said, breathing heavily. Molly smiled.
"You're going to make it," she whispered, leaning in towards his face. "Understand?"
"I'll try," he said, smiling weakly. "No guarantees."
"You will," she said, biting her lip as tears rolled down her cheek. She pressed the cloth harder into his chest. "Just keep breathing."
"You make it sound so easy."
"He…he was just a kid. I don't know how he brought himself to do it," she said quietly. "I certainly couldn't."
"You'd be surprised at what people do when their pride is at stake." Sherlock glanced up at Molly. "I'm sorry."
"What…what for?" Molly said, confused.
"Dragging you into the case. Again."
"Sherlock, I'm not the one with a bullet lodged in their ribcage," she said, lifting the cloth and checking his wound underneath. "The bleeding's slowed down a bit."
"We need to leave."
"We need to call an ambulance."
"After we get out of here," Sherlock said, wincing as he brought himself up on his elbows.
"You can't be move torso," she said, holding his back as he tried to sit up. "It'll tear up your wound again."
"I'll manage," he said before falling back into Molly's arms, gasping for breath.
"You'll manage lying down," she said, setting his head gently on the cement floor.
"Alright," he said slowly. "You go on your own."
"Sherlock, I'm not leaving…"
"Go out the exit at the bottom of this stairwell. Follow the alley until you get to Pont, then get ahold of someone at Scotland Yard." He paused, looking into Molly's eyes. "Don't make a sound until you're out of the alley. Understand?"
"I'm not going anywhere," she said quietly.
"We're both going to get ourselves killed if you don't."
"If I go, you'll get yourself killed! Either Dillanger will find you or you'll bleed out on the floor," she said, tears rolling down her cheek.
"You have to. I'll…I'll be fine. Just get Lestrade over here," he said, eyes glistening. "Quickly."
"No," Molly said, shaking her head. "No. I won't."
"Molly, I…" he paused, looking at her for a moment. "I don't know how you do it."
"Do what?" She said, wiping the tears from her face.
"Be yourself. Put up with people like me," he sighed, smiling. "If I were you, I would've just left and let myself bleed out and die."
"You don't deserve that, and you know it."
"Perhaps. But I certainly don't deserve someone like you," he said, glancing at Molly. She looked down, her face flushed.
"I…I don't think that's true…" she paused, listening as voices echoed off the brick walls.
"Sherlock! God, what happened?" Lestrade shouted from the top of the stairwell, surrounded by a herd of inspectors and police officers.
"He's been shot," Molly shouted as Lestrade hurried down the stairs.
"Get me an ambulance hear, now," he said to the men behind him, kneeling at Sherlock's side.
"Took you long enough," Sherlock said with a half-smile.
"You'll be alright. We've got an ambulance on its way."
"I do have ears, Inspector."
"Yes, well…we'll get you to a hospital soon." He paused, glancing at the wound. "Do you know where Anokhin is?"
"224 Thresher Drive."
"Where the hell is that? And why would he be…"
"I told him that's where Grace was," Sherlock said, smiling.
"Grace Novikov? She's at headquarters," he said, confused. "We were planning on putting her in witness protection until Anokhin was…"
"I'm aware."
"Then why'd you send him there?"
"Mycroft's place. He told me earlier that he was hosting a dinner for the head of defense and the deputy prime minister," Sherlock smiled, clearly amused with the genius of his plan.
"So, naturally, you sent one of the world's most dangerous criminals to drop by for a visit."
"Naturally."
"I'm not following you."
"How many miles away do you think he'll get before every secret service agent in the country has him and his men with their faces in the dirt?" Sherlock said, glancing at Lestrade.
"Well…that's one way to do it, I suppose," Lestrade said, shaking his head. "Of course, this would have nothing to do with irritating your older brother, now would it?"
"Come now, Inspector. Would I ever sink that low?" Sherlock said with a smirk. He glanced at Molly. "I think Molly will also be needing medical attention."
"Just a few bruises, that's all," she said quickly, glancing at Lestrade. "I'm fine, really."
"We'll make sure she gets some," Lestrade said to Sherlock, standing up as the EMT's arrived. "You're both going to be fine."
"Thank you, Molly," Sherlock said, looking at Molly as he was slid onto a stretcher.
"Don't thank me yet," she smiled, squeezing his hand. "I'm not going anywhere."