Dedicated to rescuemechinboy, runyoucleverboyandremember4321 and Blue Turtle of AWESOMENESS. All three requests were similar: Sherlolly argues how to tell John+Mary, John walks in on Sherlolly and harassment ensures, and Sherlock gets injured on a case with Molly there to help him, they kiss and their friends see. I think they're relatively the same, my apologies if you disagree (tell me in reviews or PM me), I'll re-write each prompt.

It had all ended about six months after the wedding of John and Mary and it began three months prior to the end. Sherlock Holmes the unpredictable had lived up to his name. The day Sherlock had stalked into the morgue alone was the moment it had all started.

"Molly," he called out, startling her in the lab.

She rushed down to the morgue and looked at the detective. He stood in the exit and she stood in the middle of the room, concern written all over her face. Sherlock, on the other hand, had an odd expression. He looked at her with mild curiosity and slight relief while his eyes screamed fear. "Sherlock, what's wrong?" Molly asked, keeping a level head. If he was injured or worse, now was not the time to be blushing and giggling that Sherlock Holmes had come to see her alone. "What's happened, Sherlock?"

He walked towards her with his large strides and stopped inches in front of her. After a deep sigh he bit his lip and stared into her eyes. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. "Molly Hooper."

"Are you injured? Have you been shot? This is the morgue, not the best place for recovery. I'll call for help and get you to a ward." Molly stripped of his jacket and spiralled around and away from him, trying to look for blood on his white shirt. As she reached the phone her face dropped. Mimicking him, her eyebrows furrowed and she crossed her arms. "I can't see any blood. What have you done?" Her face changed as she thought about what she had witnessed. No, she was alarmed. Her eye widened and her eyebrows flew up to her hair line. "Sherlock! Don't you dare tell me you have to fake your death again! Oh, what will John say? What will people think? William Sherlock Holmes, what on earth have you done?!"

Sherlock sighed and crossed his arms. "I'm not faking my death again, Molly. That was a once in a life time opportunity. The next time I die, it will be for good. And if not, you'll be the first to know... or second, depends on how involved I have to get Mycroft," Sherlock told her.

The pathologist was confused. This was the most confused she had ever been around Sherlock Holmes. "Then... why are you here?" She stepped away from the phone and walked little steps towards Sherlock. "Why are you in my morgue alone with no cases?"

"I came here to talk to you, Molly. I have something rather urgent I have to say to you." The duo stood a few feet from each other, confusion on one face, amusement on the other.

"Oh?" Molly felt her face pink as she realised what she had done. "Oh." She was a fool. Jumping to conclusions. Although, to be frank, that was one conclusion that was plausible. There was a great chance Sherlock would run to her for help when he was injured. He had done it before and he sure as hell would do it again.

"Yes, indeed. And no, as you just told yourself, not a foolish thought. Molly, I have been sitting in my mind palace for hours while I pieced places of memories and feelings together to create a new room. I didn't know what the room meant or what it was until I entered it at the end of three hours. Inside I found a montage, if you will, of our friendship and our relationship together. After further extensive thinking, I have come to a conclusion of what I think it means. Molly Hooper, I think I love you."

Sherlock's amused look disappeared and was replaced with a blank stare, waiting for Molly to reply. She stood, still confused, staring into his eyes that screamed fear. This was the first time Sherlock had ever told anyone how he feels about them and Molly could tell that. Molly couldn't tell if this was real or a fantasy. Although, when it was a day dream, they'd be snogging by now. She bit her bit before pinching her arm.

"Wait, this is real?" she asked, coming out of her confused trance. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Sherlock. "What's going on, Sherlock?"

He smirked at her, realising he had the upper hand and he had the power in this situation. He stepped closer to her and closed the distance, pressing his lips against hers.

~oOo~

For weeks they snuck over to each other's flat for dinner and a snogging session. John, Mary, Mycroft, Mrs Hudson and all of the guys at Scotland Yard were oblivious to the shenanigans going on. When they were in public, Sherlock treated her the same as per usual, earning blushes and stutters in return. On occasion, Sherlock would wink at her, an event most common when Molly made him coffee. When they were in private, Molly felt butterflies in her tummy and Sherlock enjoyed staring into her eyes. Some nights, he'd stay with her and they'd fall asleep together, enjoying the feeling of the other in their arms. When John asked where he was, Sherlock responded with "a case, John, required extensive searching. The homeless network were otherwise preoccupied, you see?".

Molly and Sherlock spent nights arguing with each other about how to tell their friends about their relationship. Molly didn't want to hide it; she wanted to be able to kiss him when she gave him his coffee or hug him before he left. Sherlock, on the other hand, didn't want John and Mycroft to talk about it. It was easier being the heartless virgin than taking their taunts of Molly. As an apology to the nights where Molly would cry and shout at Sherlock to stop being such a prat, he'd take her out on a case. Of course, he only did so if it was going to be safe.

Today was one of those ever now and then days. It was a Saturday morning and John was otherwise preoccupied with Mary. Molly and Sherlock set off to follow the last criminals in the Moriarty web. With every meter they went away from the heart of London, Sherlock's thought of this case being safe was diminished by roughly 1.75%, a figure he wouldn't tell Molly. Instead, he sent a text to Lestrade.

On a case, going to be dangerous. I'll text you the location if there's trouble. -SH.

"Sherlock, I'm not too sure about this... I don't feel very good about being so far from London," Molly told him after about half an hour of driving away from London.

"Don't worry, Molly. I'm here and I won't let you get hurt," he reassured her despite her grimace. He sighed and brought his arms around her. "Molly Hooper, I promise you that you will not be hurt. If everything goes perfectly tonight, which I'm 100% sure it will, we'll tell everyone about us, ok?" Molly rested her head against his shoulder and sighed.

"How certain are you really, Sherlock?" she asked. There was a pause as Sherlock thought. He didn't say a thing for a few minutes until Molly jabbed him in the ribs. "Please, Sherlock, how sure are you about tonight?"

"I'm almost 99.25 percent sure, Molly. Don't worry, I'll always be right beside you and I won't let you come in harm's way, alright?" Sherlock told her. Of course, he never actually said what the statistic was for. He was 99.25 percent sure that something bad would happen and only 1.75% sure that one of them wouldn't make it out of this alive. He would stay by her side, however, and he wouldn't let anyone harm her. If they even lay a finger on her, Sherlock would kill them. She was not going to die for his stupidity.

Sherlock, what the fuck does that mean? Where are you? Answer me, Sherlock! -GL.

No, Gavin, don't worry just yet. We're fine, still in the cab. Hunting down the last of the network and then we'll be back to report on the incident. -SH

Are you with John? I thought he was with Mary and the baby? You two don't do Saturdays. -GL.

I'm not with John. Hopefully, you won't have to know who it is if everything goes alright. Now, please, you're tipping off people of a problem. -SH

Molly looked over at Sherlock with fear. There were no way his texts were anything good. He even glanced down at her every now and again, sending her, what he considered, a reassuring smile that had Molly biting her cheek. He sighed and looked over at the woman to had fear etched into her face and oozing out of every pore.

"Please, trust me. I won't let anything happen to you." He leaned down and captured her lips with his own. "I promise you, Molly."

~oOo~

For hours, they tiptoed behind four criminals as they searched for something they called the "golden trove", an artifact Sherlock was well aware did not exist and was the cause for the last seven linked murders. It was too risky to divulge this knowledge upon Molly, however, and when they were caught, he was unable to tell her.

Molly was tied to a chair on one side of the barn house with a woman standing behind her, her fingers wrapped in Molly's hair. Sherlock sat on the other with restraints on his ankles and wrists. He fingered a small knife while watching two men guard the large doors.

"Sherlock Holmes, say goodbye to your precious girlfriend," the woman in black said as she pressed a gun against Molly's temple. Tears ran down her face as she looked at Sherlock. The woman tugged on Molly's hair and she winced. "Any final words, darling?"

"Sh-Sherlock, please, help," she stuttered out, her fear over flowing in her words and spilling over to Sherlock. "You promised."

Sherlock sighed and stood up despite the restraints. "Alright, fine, I'll tell you where the golden trove is. Molly, I'm sorry. I couldn't let you know about it, you'd ruin everything. No offense. It's buried about three hundred meters that way," Sherlock told the thugs who stood around them. He nudged his head towards the door and rolled his eyes. "Lestrade is going to kill me for telling them the location. We only buried it this morning and now we're digging it up. Goodbye, hard work," he told them, sarcasm slipping into his words to cover his fear and worry towards Molly.

The woman nodded for two men, the ones that guarded the door, to look for it. Sherlock looked at the crying Molly who had desperation in her eyes. She did not want to die and Sherlock was not going to let her. He finished cutting the rope that held his hands together and frowned at his girlfriend while being forced to sit back down by another thug.

"Vatican cameos," Sherlock sighed out to Molly before throwing the clip point knife at the woman who held Molly down. As he threw it, she moved her gun to point at him and fired. The knife wedged itself into her neck as the bullet left the gun and zoomed towards Sherlock. She had aimed too high, however, and shot the thug behind him in the chest. Sherlock rushed to Molly and untied her. He stood in front of her and wrapped her arms around his waist to keep her safe while manoeuvring his way out of the small, dank barn house. "It's alright, Molly. I told you it would be alright."

"You told me nothing would go wrong," she whispered, her cheek pressed against his shoulder.

"I lied." The two men had heard the commotion and rushed back inside to help the commotion. Sherlock took a gun from the pocket of one of them and pressed it against the back of the others head. "I'd suggest the two of you leave right now unless you want to get shot as well. Oh, and Scotland Yard is just down the road waiting for you. Jail or death?" he asked.

"Neither," one of them replied, pulling a paring knife from his pocket. He reached to Sherlock and sliced his chest in a julienne cut, spreading from one side of his rib cage to the other.

Sherlock squeezed the trigger as he fell down, killing the man in the line of fire, his head exploding and spreading its filth all over Sherlock and Molly. The remaining man looked around in fear and ran through the door and into his car. Despite Sherlock's threat of Scotland Yard, he tore down the road trying to get away from the crime that had taken place.

The pathologist sank down behind the detective and stripped off his jacket. She pressed it against the wound and pulled Sherlock into her arms. "Don't move. I'll text Lestrade and get him here."

"He's already on the way. I texted him just before we were tied up."

Molly rested her chin on his shoulder and frowned. "You told me it was all going to be alright." She pressed her lips against his neck. "You're such an idiot. Did you plan this?"

"Oh, Molly. I'd never plan anything that would hurt you." He moved his head to look into her eyes. "I can see your pain, Molly, and that's not something I enjoy seeing." He leaned his lips towards hers and kissed her lightly. "I'm so sorry, Molly. I'm going into shock, it seems." Molly pressed the jacket harder against his torso.

His breathing was shallow and rapid breaths. His hands were clammy and he was sweating a was becoming paler and paler with every second that ticked on. Oh god. "Sherlock, please, I need you, you can't do this to me. I need help. I-I-" Molly began to sob into his shoulder.

"Shh, Molly, it's ok. It's alright." He pressed his lips against hers in an attempt to calm her down and to bring her back to what was going on.

"Anderson, you owe me ten pounds," a deep voice said from the doorway and Molly jumped. Standing there was Donovan, Lestrade, Anderson and John.

"God, what happened?" John asked as he rushed over to Sherlock, seeing the blood staining the jacket.

"One of them cut him. I didn't get a chance to look at it, I just had to stop the bleeding. I couldn't let him die. Not on my watch." Molly lips turned up as though the situation was a little humorous.

"You did a good job, Molly. He hasn't lost nearly as much as he could of. We need to get him to a hospital immediately. The cut is deep and I can't operate on him here and now," John told them all, his eyes and fingers on Sherlock's wound.

~oOo~

In the chairs right outside of Sherlock's room, Mary and John waited for friends to be allowed in. Molly, Lestrade and Anderson sat in the main waiting room. They were going to go in after Mary and John had had a turn. Until then, they sat in silence. No-one talked about the kiss they witnessed. Everyone assumed Sherlock was just being nice and trying to calm Molly and maybe to confuse her. It's the type of thing he would do.

John and Mary walked out after four hours of arriving. They told the other three that Sherlock was ok and recovering. He was only awake for a little while but he had fallen asleep. Both Anderson and Lestrade said they wanted to see him, even if he was asleep. They were the next two to enter.

Molly sat alone for over half an hour. She had been at the hospital for nearly five hours and she was tired. Anderson and Lestrade walked past her and gave her a sympathetic smile before leaving the hospital as well. She stood up and walked into the hospital room to see Sherlock asleep. He had bandages around his torso and he lay limp in the bed.

She sank down in the chair beside his bed and held onto his hand. "Oh, Sherlock." She ran her thumb over the back of his hand.

~oOo~

The Watson's walked in, accompanied by Lestrade, Anderson and Donovan, silence enveloped them all. They entered the room to see Sherlock and Molly laying in bed together. Sherlock lay on his back while Molly squeezed in, lying on her side. Sherlock had an arm around her and was rubbing her back.

"Erm, Sherlock?" John asked.

Sherlock paused and his head lolled over to look at the visitors. "Morning. Didn't expect to see you lot so early. Did that man speak?"

"What's going on?" John asked, ignoring the previous question.

"This? Oh, she stayed last night. Apparently, she was here for five hours before she managed to see me so I said she could stay until I fell asleep. I don't know, I was a little too drugged up to remember what happened exactly. John, can you change my bandages?" he replied before nudging Molly awake.

~oOo~

Everyone sat outside while Molly got her stuff together and said goodbye to Sherlock.

"I can't believe you didn't wake me up before they walked in. I'd have said I fell asleep when I sat here with you because you were asleep. Can't you use some common sense? Jesus."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at his girlfriend and crossed his arms. "I'm sorry, Molly. It's not my fault that I enjoy having you in my arms," he told her and watched as she paced in front of his bed.

"Oh God. I have to walk past them. What are they going to think? How am I ever going to look them in the eyes again? What have you done, Sherlock? I should never have agreed to going with you on that case."

"Hang on a second. They're not going to question what we were doing. I already said that I-"

"Uh, no! Sherlock, no! No! You saved your skin! You cleared up what you think. Apparently, I snuck into your bed! Do you not see how tacky and bad that makes me look? THINK, SHERLOCK!" Molly yelled before she sank onto the ground.

"Don't, Molly. Don't tell me what I did wrong. I am pretty sure I know what I did!" he yelled back.

"Fucking HELL! WILLIAM SHERLOCK HOLMES! YOU ARE SOCIALLY INEPT! DON'T YOU DARE SAY I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS WORKS! THIS IS ONE OF THE ONLY FACTORS WHERE I AM SMARTER THAN YOU! NO, WILLIAM, NO!"

Molly began to sob while Sherlock sighed. His breath was long and loud as he rubbed his temple. "This is ridiculous. Molly, please, come to my bedside, I can't get down without you yelling at me."

With caution, Molly stood up and took a few steps towards him. He would have come over to her but he was unable to move much. He scooted into a sitting position and smiled a bit at Molly. She could see the sadness in his eyes that they were fighting again. He motioned for her to come closer and she did so, knowing the fight was going to be over. She leaned down and pressed her lips against his. A timid knock on the door went unnoticed and the couple continued to kiss.

A short man entered and began to speak to his silent friends. "Sherlock, Molly? We heard screaming and then silence. I just wanted to see if everything- oh!" He stopped and looked at the rather compromising position they were in.

Molly was hovering over Sherlock, her hands on either side of his face and his hands on her waist. Their lips were connected and they did not look like they had any intention on stopping where they were.

"Erm, surprise?" Molly said in her meek voice once she and Sherlock realised he was there, a few seconds after John walked in.

~oOo~

"Hey, Sherlock?" John asked one day as he walked into the large kitchen where the detective was doing another of his experiments. "Remember that time where I walked in on you and Molly snogging in the hospital? Remember how I stopped you two having make-up sex under 19 hours after surgery?"

"Shut up, John," Molly said as she walked into the kitchen and stood beside Sherlock. "It's not like we didn't walk in on you and Mary doing almost exactly the same thing."

John flushed bright red and excused himself.

A/N: hey guys!

Big thank you for everyone who reviewed on the last chapter! I understand that Mycrolly is weird, I am not a shipper at all. Nonetheless, I'm glad you liked it. It was very weird to write, even if I thought he was a cutie-pie.

Anyway, apologies for combining the prompts, I thought they were fairly similar and thought "they won't mind, psht!" so if you did mind, please tell me and I'll get write onto that ;)

Righty-o. I don't know if I had anything serious to tell you kittens... erm... how is my British lingo going? If anyone ever finds something that there's a better british slang word for or something, please let me know because I'm very into canon-ness.

Please take part in my poll. I don't know how they work or where you can find it but I'm sure you guys could figure it out, you're all very smart!

If it goes well, I might use the poll to ask what one-shots I'll work on next and will be the next to be uploaded.

I love you guys!

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