"You know, you can't keep her cooped up here forever, mate." John sipped his tea, before setting the cup down and staring at his flatmate. "I know you're worried, but it's been a month."
"And two more letters," Sherlock replied, typing away furiously at his laptop.
"Two? I thought there was only one," John replied, a touch of alarm in his voice.

Wordlessly, Sherlock tossed another envelope with the familiar wax seal on the space at the table in front of him. John stood up and walked over, opening it again and slipping the paper out.

It's funny how you think she's safe just because you're keeping her here.

I promise, Mr. Holmes. It doesn't matter who gets involved, she's in danger. It could be at work, at Tesco's, a lunch date at the London Eye, or maybe even her temporary home, here at your flat.

John blinked and set it back down. "Jesus. Sherlock, you have to get Scotland Yard involved."
"What, so Donavon can complain every five seconds while messing up my experiments, 'inspecting' the flat?"
"No," John replied, "so that they can get to the bottom of it."
"John, you've known me for several years now, you do realize that it's usually us solving things for the Yard, not the other way around."
"Yes, but…"
"But what?"
"Sherlock, this is a maniac!"

Sherlock looked up. "Excuse me?"
"This isn't some ordinary break in, or murder, or kidnapper, this is a complete maniac who is completely anonymous and somehow has our address and wants something to do with Molly."
"Shh!" Sherlock furrowed his brow and looked out of the door, making sure Molly wasn't there. "So you're telling me we've never dealt with a maniac before?" Sherlock said in a hushed, angry voice. "Does the name Moriarty ring a bell for you?" John sighed. "It's not the same, Sherlock. He was open about it."
"And did that make anything he did more predictable?"
"Well, no, but-"
"The identity, or lack thereof, doesn't matter, John. What matters is what they do, and when and where they'll do it. That's why she's here, so that there'll never be a moment in which she's alone."
"She's alone at the morgue right now, isn't she?" John replied frustratedly, raising his voice. "Why wouldn't someone just snatch her up over there, she's been alone at those times five out of every seven days this month, so explain to me, what good is it doing keeping her here? You're scaring her, not helping her!"

Sherlock remained silent for a moment, before clearing his throat and picking up his coat from the rack. "Oh, God. No, Sherlock. You cannot bombard her at work, too."
"Who says that's where I'm going?"
"I know that's where you're going, Sherlock! Sherlock!" He ran out through the door after him, calling down the stairs. "If you show up at her workplace too, she's going to suspect something!"
"As you've so clearly pointed out, she's been here for a month. She's already suspecting something, she isn't stupid!" Sherlock called back, before walking out the door, hurrying to flag down a cab down to Bart's.

…

"Ma'am, I know that the loss of a loved one hurts, but at least I can assure you that it was very quick." Molly held the hand of an elderly woman, who was crying over the loss of her son. She had just finished the autopsy and this was the one part of her job she would've liked to live without- having family identify the body and then giving them the cause of death. The woman sniffled. "I… I just don't want him to have felt pain when he died, he didn't deserve it!"
"Well, ma'am," Molly said with a small smile, "You might be comforted to know that he didn't feel any pain." She looked up. "He- he didn't?"
"No." she shook her head subtly and handed her another tissue. "The wound hit an exact point at a nerve connecting right to his heart. The worst he could've felt was something like a paper cut before he died altogether. It was quick and painless, I assure you." The woman continued to cry for a moment, before getting it together enough to lift her head. "Thank you, dear," she sniffled. "For the closure, I mean. I… at least I know it wasn't painful."
"Hmm… yes it was."

The low voice caused the woman to jump and Molly to gasp. She immediately stood up and turned around, giving him a 'don't-you-dare-continue-speaking' look, to which Sherlock responded with a shrug.
"Okay, Mrs. Faye… your cab is outside. That man in the yellow at the end of the hallway will see you out," Molly said with a smile, helping her up and leading her to the door.
"What did that man say?" the woman said, looking heartbroken.
"Sorry, he's my… assistant," Molly said. Sherlock snorted. "Assistant?"
She turned her head again to him. This time he earned a death glare, causing him to shut his mouth and pretend to busy himself with something on the counter.
"He's new, he gets the clients mixed up from time to time. I'm so sorry about that, ma'am, I assure you, your son's passing was painless. Now then, I recommend you get some rest. Have a lovely day." The woman nodded, though she looked confused, and walked out the door, holding on to the doorman's arm as he walked off with her.

Molly turned back to him. "Sherlock, never do that again."
"It's the truth, Molly."
"She lost her son, Sherlock. And even though the pain was likely much sharper, do you honestly think she needed to hear that?"
"Hardly matters. He's dead, isn't he?"
Molly rolled her eyes, passing him and walking over to her microscope, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves and preparing bacteria slides. "What do you need, Sherlock?"
"To make sure you're okay."
"I'm fine, Sherlock. Why wouldn't I be?"
Sherlock paused. "I… don't know?"
"Sherlock, you and I both know you wouldn't come in here without reason. What is it?" Molly looked up and into his eyes. "Did something happen?"
"No. And I was coming here to make sure."
"Did another letter come?"

A look of surprise crossed Sherlock's face. There was a moment of silence, and Molly went back to her microscope. "I'm not stupid, Sherlock," she mumbled, adjusting the stage height and beginning to scribble down notes on a clipboard.
"You mean… you know about…"
"Yes, I do." Molly looked back up. "And though I appreciate what you're doing-"
"How?"
She paused a moment. "How what?"
"How do you know about them? John and I have been very careful to… Mrs. Hudson," he growled irritably, looking up at the ceiling. "I told John he shouldn't have-"
"It's okay, Sherlock. I mean, it scared the dickens out of me a few weeks ago, but-"
"You've known for a few weeks, and didn't tell me?"
"I assumed you'd already deduced it, actually." She paused. "You seem to figure everything else about me out pretty quickly," she muttered under her breath.
"I don't understand."

Molly turned to him, feeling his stare. "Don't understand what?"
"Well, your life is being threatened, but you haven't seemed the least bit afraid in this past month."
"Because I don't have to be," Molly replied.
When Sherlock remained silent in confusion, she laughed. "Yes, I trust you with my life, Sherlock. I'm sorry, I just thought you already knew that."

"Yes, well…" Sherlock swallowed, completely taken aback. This wasn't the conversation he thought he'd be having with her. "I have… a thing to work on. Mind if I do it here?"
Molly caught on and smiled. "Of course. Take whatever you need."
Sherlock nodded, and started busying himself with odd experiments to keep himself preoccupied for the rest of the day, stealing a few glances at her as she worked now and then.

He swore to himself that from then on, he would never underestimate the strength or cunning of Molly Hooper ever again.

This was a fun chapter to write! I thought it'd be good for Molly to be the one to surprise him for a change. I think it's time Molly is given a bit more credit for her strength :)

As always, thank you so much for reading. It means so much and I can't even begin to comprehend how I got the number of followers, viewers, and reviewers I have, and I love you all, you're lovely ^.^ If you have any requests/questions/concerns/comments, please leave a review or PM me! I will write you back!