Chapter Eight - Resolution

George Flinn spoke to the phone. "Are you sure we don't have enough men to handle this?"

"Yes sir," the voice on the speaker phone answered with a tinny sound. "Jackson got close enough to count at least thirty men. He thinks there may be at least that many more inside the warehouse."

Flinn looked down at the laptop on the table. A soft beeping and a flashing symbol indicated that the GPS bug Sherlock had worn was still stationary. He sighed. "Well, shit." he swore. "Still no sign of his brother's people? They should have been there by now if they were watching."

"No sir."

Flinn swore under his breath again. "Pull out and meet us tomorrow at the new location."

"Yes sir..." the tinny voice hesitated then asked, "Are we leaving him sir?"

Flinn scowled, his ex-military sense of rank and protocol was offended. He ought to have the man disciplined for questioning orders like that. His men liked Sherlock though. He had saved more than one of their lives over the past few months. That had gone a long way toward ignoring the man's more than derisive remarks.

With a sigh he spoke to the phone. "No, we are not abandoning him, I'm just changing plans. Now get your arse out of there now!" he roared.

"Yes sir."

Flinn wiped his hand over the top of his close cropped head. He hated the government. He hated the military that had been his life until he was severely wounded. He hated the bureaucracy that determined he was useless and cast him and others like him out to fend for themselves. Every fiber of his being screamed rebellion as he punched in the number Sherlock had given him for emergency.

"Mycroft Holmes."

"You were watching when Sherlock talked to Moriarty?" Flinn rasped.

There was a hesitation and then, "Yes. Who is this?"

"Then you know Sherlock went after him. Do you know where he is now?"

A longer hesitation then, "not exactly."

Flinn smiled, he enjoyed the sound of the almighty Holmes eating humble pie. "It's not going to be easy to get him out. The situation calls for more manpower than I can provide." He gave Mycroft the coordinates of the abandoned warehouse indicated on the GPS. "And, Mycroft, tell him we tried."

"Yes, of course," Mycroft cleared his throat. "We owe you one." he said reluctantly.

"Yes, you certainly do," agreed Flinn. "See that you remember that when the time comes." He closed the phone with a snap.

ɸ

"Beep...beep...beep..." The counter continued to sound as time slipped away. Molly ran to the metal drawer under the window and grabbed the keys.

"That's it, Molly. Hurry! You don't have much time!" Moriarty taunted.

Molly crossed the room to face Sherlock, her back to the window, blocking Moriarty's view. She began to frantically search through the ring of keys. Her shaking fingers causing the keys to rattle.

Sherlock mumbled, "H2S04, H2S04, H2S04 . . ." rapidly to himself. His eyes opened wide as he looked at Molly. "Do you have any chocolate?" he asked urgently.

Molly stared at him. "What? What did you say? "

"Chocolate! Molly, do you have any chocolate?"

As Molly began frantically searching her pockets, Sherlock spoke in a rapid, low voice; "Chocolate contains sugar, carbohydrates, lactose, sucrose... carbon, hydrogen, oxygen...C12H12O11. The sulfuric acid will react with the water contained in the sugars, the hydrogen and oxygen...creating elemental carbon. Carbon is inert. If we can get some chocolate into the end of that pipette," he explained, peering up at the tube above him, "it will effectively stopper the end, keeping the sulfuric acid from dropping down. And that," he concluded with a smile, "will buy us time to work with the keys."

"That's brilliant Sherlock!" Molly grinned as she pulled out the handful of chocolates her abductor had lured her with. "It's a good thing I forgot about these, I might have eaten them if I remembered I had them." She frowned down at the squashed chocolate. "They're half melted, will that make a difference?"

"Actually it will help. Do you think you can reach the pipette if you stand on the table?"

Molly looked up at the tube, it looked awfully far away. "Yes." she said with more confidence than she felt. She reached down and removed her socks. Her shoes had been taken from her days ago. Sherlock's were missing as well. Probably so they couldn't use them as weapons. With bare feet that grasped the smooth tabletop more firmly than socks would have allowed, she scrambled up onto the table. Placing one foot between Sherlock's legs and the other beside his hip on the left, she reached upward with her arms. Even stretching as much as possible she was several centimeters short of the pipette. Molly looked down at Sherlock.

"Sorry, I'm going to need to stand on top of you."

Sherlock nodded.

"Ready?" Molly asked.

"Yes."

Molly stepped up onto Sherlock's stomach and reached upward once more. On the other side of the window, Moriarty was screaming and yelling, "What's going on? What is that stuff? Nothing will work you stupid bitch! That's sulfuric acid; you're wasting time! You should be looking at the keys!"

Molly ignored Moriarty's ranting. She concentrated on keeping her balance on top of Sherlock. She carefully began pushing the softened chocolate inside the end of the pipette. It wasn't easy, the opening was not very large.

"Hold your breath a minute," she told Sherlock as she pushed more of the gooey sweets into the tube. That was as good as she could do. Molly used a corner of a less melted chocolate to plug the end of the pipette.

On the other side of the glass the strains of Paul McCartney's "Live and Let Die" began to emanate from his pocket. Moriarty paused a moment before he recalled that he had changed his mobile ringtone from The Bee Gee's "Stayin' Alive." He reached into his pocket to retrieve the device.

Molly jumped down from the table. She quickly opened the remaining chocolates and began to smear them thickly on Sherlock's chest over his heart.

"Molly, what are you doing?" Sherlock gasped.

"Plan B," Molly said shortly, "In case I didn't do a good enough job up there," she pointed to the pipette.

"It tickles." Sherlock grumped.

"Your chest will do more than tickle if that acid gets through."

"What do you mean they're outside?" Moriarty screamed into his phone. "Get more men down there and stop them. I don't care what you have to do. Blow them up if you have to. Don't let them in. Do you hear me? And sent Rafferty's team up here for backup!" he shouted.

James Moriarty turned, his jaw clenched in frustration. It was all going wrong, damn Mycroft Holmes! He was obviously the one behind all this. He made a mental note to personally take care of the elder Holmes when this was over. Maybe he would skin him alive. He deserved it with all his meddling ways. It was time the Holmes name was wiped from the face of the earth.

Calmer, he looked at the two through the window. Molly was back on the floor doing something to Sherlock's chest. What in the hell were they up to? He took a step closer to the window and pecked on it with his finger. Molly glanced around.

"It looks like the cavalry has arrived pilgrim," he said in his best John Wayne drawl, "but we got 'em cut off at the pass, so they're gonna be too late to help y'all."

Pointing up at the pipette which now sported a lump of something stuck to the opening he switched back to his normal sneering tone.

"Even if the sulfuric drip doesn't work, the glass container will take care of you both when it breaks. You're not going to have enough time."

As if to prove his point a small bell chimed and the pipette rotated clockwise. Nothing happened.

"Seven minutes left," Moriarty cackled as he left the room to supervise operations outside.

"Quick, Molly, hold up the keys." Sherlock urged.

Hurriedly Molly held up a key for Sherlock to see. Each key was labeled with a number. When she held up key number sixteen he told her to stop. Frantically Molly tried the key in each of the shackles with no result.

"Try the door." She rushed to the door. It unlocked with a satisfying click. Running back she began holding the next key up for him to look at. Overhead the pipette was turning every fifteen seconds like clockwork. So far, the acid was contained within the tube.

"If we run out of time I want you to leave me and get out." Sherlock said quietly.

"Shut up and look at the bloody keys!" Molly snarled. Did he really think she would leave him to die alone?

The fifty-fourth key opened the shackle holding his left leg. The eighty-ninth was almost passed over, but Molly now knowing what to look for saw the small difference. "Wait," she said, "it's this one." She tried Sherlock's left hand first, then his right. As the pipette continued to rotate overhead, Sherlock freed his right arm. Key number one hundred twenty one opened the shackle on his right ankle.

A warning chime sounded. Above their heads the pipette stopped rotating. Gears whirled. The pipette moved aside on a long track. The large container of sulfuric acid began its way over to center over Sherlock's table.

"Molly, its time for you to go," Sherlock said.

"No," Molly said shortly. She stared at the last few keys. What if they had missed the fifth key? The gears overhead whirled and the hammer locked into place, ready to drop and break the glass container of acid.

Molly eyed the last key. Key number one hundred fifty had the smallest difference of them all. Not wasting breath or time she jammed the key into the last shackle. With a satisfying snick, it opened. Sherlock grabbed Molly's hand as he rolled from the table.

"Close your eyes and mouth, don't breathe." Sherlock ordered.

They hurried for the door as the hammer smashed into glass and acid cascaded from the ceiling to cover the table Sherlock had been laying on just seconds before. When they reached the door Sherlock opened it, shoved Molly through and followed her slamming the door behind him.

They stood staring at one another not really believing they had escaped.

"God, that was close!" Molly said. "What next?"

Sherlock looked at her curiously, he knew adrenaline affected people differently especially if they were unused to it. Some people freeze, unable to move. Others get nauseous and shaky, while others become energized and better able to handle dangerous situations. Molly was displaying the latter symptoms. She didn't sound frightened, she was shaking a little, but he could tell she wasn't afraid. The effects of the adrenaline that was pumping through her body were all positive.

Molly looked through the square window of the door. "There are two men out there with guns." Sherlock nudged her over so he could see.

" We need a way to distract them," he said.

"I can do that," Molly smiled. "Watch and learn Sherlock Holmes." She striped off her jacket and dropped it to the floor. Next to go were her slacks. Molly unbuttoned four buttons of her top, allowing a generous peep at cleavage underneath. Her top was made of a stretchy black knit which was designed to hang in folds about her waist and hips. Pulling it down over her hips the wide band at the bottom cupped under her buttocks and gave the illusion of a very short black dress.

"Molly, what do you think you are doing?" Sherlock sounded slightly scandalized.

"Just wait, I'm not done yet." Molly said. She began chewing on her lips and slapping herself in the face. Then she bent over pulling the elastic band holding her hair away allowing it to hang down in front of her face. Using her hands and fingers as a comb, her tossed her hair this way and that as she remained bent over. Her hair was so long that the ends touched the floor as she flailed about. With a sudden jerk she stood upright and flipped her hair back and over her shoulders.

"There, she said breathlessly, what do you think?"

Sherlock stared. He couldn't quite believe his eyes. It was kind of like the children's story about the fluffy bunny who transformed into an evil vampire rabbit. Not believable, but there it was. The only word to describe Molly in her present form was damned sexy. Her lips were red and slightly swollen from where she had bitten them. Her hair poofed out around her like a magnificent golden brown mane. She looked like she had just been thoroughly ravished and had enjoyed every minute of it. Sherlock was speechless.

Molly grinned, "Close your mouth, Sherlock. You're beginning to drool." She lightly tapped his cheek with one of her fingers. "When I get the guards into position sneak up and take one down. I'll handle the other. With that she sailed out the door and into the hallway. "Oh, boyz!" Sherlock heard her throaty voice call out ,"Boyz, do you know where Jimmy is? He promised to meet me here twenty minutes ago."

"How did she walk that way barefooted?" he wondered. She swayed as if she were wearing stilettos. And he was not drooling he told himself angrily. He did close his mouth though.

The two men stared at Molly. One had the presence of mind to halfway raise his rifle. The other just grinned and stared Molly up and down. Molly chose the more aggressive one and sauntered up to him saying, "Hi there, is that an AK47 I see or are you just really happy to see me?" She quickly slipped around the men and turned to face the doorway where Sherlock remained hidden. The men turned with her. Placing her hands on either side of his face Molly smiled at her target. "My you're a good looking one, aren't you?" she crooned. "I bet all the girls want to jump your bones, and half the boys too." The guard flushed. His friend laughed and leaned one shoulder back against the wall to enjoy the show. Molly moved closer to the man making sure her right knee was well positioned. The move effectively trapped the gun between them.

"You know," she smiled suggestively, "I could show you a good time and Jimmy would never have to know." As the man bent down to kiss her. She brought her right knee sharply up into his crotch. One hand chopped his Adam's apple while the other made a fist and crashed into his head behind his right ear. He crumpled to the floor. She relieved the guard of his gun as Sherlock did the same to the other guard who was already unconscious. She handed the AK47 to Sherlock.

"Let's swap guns," she said, "this one's too big."

"Have you ever used a gun?" he asked.

"No, but if you aim the pointy end that way and pull the curvy thing back, it ought to work." she said mischievously.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You don't need a gun." At her pout of protest he smiled and said, "You're dangerous enough as you are."

A considering look crossed Molly's face. She smiled sweetly up at Sherlock. "Okay," she said, "just as long as you realize it."

"What did that mean?" he wondered as he followed her down the hallway.

ɸ

Sherlock looked out from the doorway leading into a large room. It contained at least thirty men, maybe more. He thought he got a glimpse of John wrestling a man across the room but wasn't sure. Most of the men were fighting hand to hand but some lunatics were still firing gunshots which ricocheted from the metal walls of the room. It was dangerous as hell. He turned to warn Molly to stay in the hallway.

Molly took one look at the mayhem, shouted," Come on Sherlock!" and darted past him into the mess. Sherlock swore under his breath and followed. They were immediately surrounded. Back to back they methodically chopped and kicked, mowing down opponents right and left. Sherlock tried to keep an eye on Molly to head off any potential problems for her, but soon realized after the third blow to his body that he was going to have to let Molly fend for herself or find himself one of the casualties lying on the floor. Finishing a particularly brutal bout with two idiots who thought they could finish him off if they coordinated together, Sherlock looked up to see Molly literally launch herself at a man easily twice her size. In fact he was the biggest man in the room. The way Molly climbed up the large man's side reminded Sherlock of a spider monkey climbing a tree. Once on top of the man's shoulders with her legs around the man's thick neck Molly used her momentum to swing her upper body out and to the right. The movement caused the man's center of gravity to shift and the next thing he knew he was on the floor with Molly standing over him. Sherlock didn't to see what happened next as he found two hands gripping his neck and whirling him around. Some time later, when he was able to stand, he saw the giant was still lying unconscious on the floor but Molly was nowhere to be seen. Frantically searching, he finally spotted her running along the wall after James Moriarty as he disappeared through a doorway.

"Molly! No! Molly!" Sherlock shouted as he started after her only to find his feet kicked out from under him. He fell forward heavily onto his face.

Across the room John heard Sherlock shout Molly's name. He looked up to see Molly disappearing through a doorway. Without thinking he darted around two pairs of struggling men and across the floor to the doorway after her.

Molly reached the rooftop seconds after Moriarty. He was walking ahead of her obviously heading for the helicopter at the center of the rooftop.

"Moriarty!" Molly screamed, the whump-whump-whump of the rotor blades swallowing her voice. Apparently some of the sound reached Moriarty. He turned in surprise, saw Molly running forward and put a hand in his pocket to retrieve his gun. Before he had a chance to raise it, Molly hit him with a stunning kick to the chest. Moriarty staggered backward his gun flying through the air, then skittering across the rough rooftop.

When John reached the roof he saw Molly and Moriarty struggling together, but he also saw the gunman hanging out of the door of the waiting helicopter. Without thinking John reached back and pulled his gun from his waistband. Releasing the safety, he took aim and fired. The gunman fell out of the copter and onto the roof. The helicopter lifted up, dipping slightly. From behind, John heard a shout of "Nooo!" He turned in time to see Sherlock, bare-chested and in stocking feet running to the rising helicopter. Sherlock grabbed the landing strut and attempted to climb up to the doorway. The helicopter gave an unexpected dip, threw Sherlock to the rooftop and continued to rise in a wobbly seesaw motion one rotor knocking against an air conditioner unit. It disappeared over the side of the building. Seconds later there was a flash of light and a thunderous crash of sound as the helicopter impacted with the ground.

When John rushed over to Sherlock he was astounded to see tears streaking down his cheeks.

Sherlock looked up at John's face. "Molly" he groaned.

"You thought she was in the helicopter?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded.

"She was never in the helicopter," John said gently. He motioned behind him. "She's over there beating the shit out of Moriarty."

"Oh."

"You didn't contact me." John said severely.

"No."

"Were you ever going to contact me?"

"Yes..." he paused, "no..." and paused again. "I don't know," he finally admitted.

"Why, Sherlock? Why didn't you at least let me help you later?" John asked.

Hearing the hurt beneath the anger in his friend's voice, Sherlock struggled to make him understand. "You had already accepted me as dead," he said simply. "My new life was just as dangerous if not more so. It was the only way I could make sure you were safe."

"Sometimes, Sherlock Holmes, you can do some incredibly stupid things, but this one takes the cake."

Sherlock looked up at him and nodded. With a bit of hesitation, he spoke, "Perhaps, in this situation, I may have been a bit of an idiot," he said in an apologetic tone.

John grinned and held out his hand. "Come on then, up you get."

As Sherlock took his hand, John pulled him to his feet and into a tight hug. "Welcome home, Sherlock."

"Thank you John," Sherlock returned the hug.

"Do I smell chocolate?" John asked.

"It's a long story." Sherlock answered.

"I'm glad to see you boys have made up," Mycroft said as he joined the pair. John jumped back, red in the face. "It's a good thing its dark up here," Mycroft commented blandly. "I do believe John is blushing."

"Obviously." Sherlock agreed. John could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Welcome home, brother."

There was a long pause as Sherlock looked at his brother. "Mycroft," he began, waited several seconds then said, "Thank you."

Mycroft hearing the sincerity in Sherlock's voice, beamed and said. "Anytime, it's what families are for." He glanced over at Molly. "One of you should call off the pit bull. If she kills him I won't have anyone to question."

John started forward, but Sherlock placed his hand on John's shoulder and said, "I'll do it." Mycroft handed him a handkerchief. Sherlock nodded thanks and walked over to Molly.

Molly was still punching a mess that Sherlock supposed would one day be a face again. At the moment it looked more like ground beef. She punched where the nose should be, but it only made a sickening squishy sound on contact.

Squatting beside her he placed his hand on her arm. "Molly, it's time to stop." he said quietly.

Molly jerked. Looking up wildly she said grimly, "He hurt you. He hurt all of us."

"Yes, he did." Sherlock said.

"I'm going to kill him."

"No you're not. That's not you Molly'"

"He deserves to die."

"Yes, he does." Sherlock agreed. "But not today, and not by you. Let Mycroft take care of him. He's the one with the license to kill. Okay Molly?"

Sherlock pulled her gently to her feet and began wiping the blood off of her hands with Mycroft's handkerchief. Molly began to shake and sob. Sherlock pulled her close to his side his arm around her shoulders. Molly sighed and buried her head on his chocolate-covered chest, still crying. He looked down at her. He knew it was just reaction from the adrenaline. Where was a shock blanket when you really needed one? He didn't even have a shirt to give her. He tightened his arm about her protectively.

John joined them as they walked across the rooftop to the doorway. It was good to have his blogger back. It felt right. He glanced down at Molly. What was she? That she belonged there he was willing to admit, but he couldn't quite categorize her. He thought a moment and grinned. It wasn't quite right but it was close. It was good to have his blogger and his ninja by his side. Yes, that would do for now. "Let's go home," he said to both his friends.

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AN: I have been enjoying all of the story reviews, they have encouraged me and kept me going. If you have enjoyed this story, please let me know, I'd appreciate it a lot. BTW, this is not the end...an epilogue is on it's way. FYI, The chemical reaction between sulfuric acid and chocolate was confirmed by Jamie and Adam on "Mythbusters."