Authors Note: So how is it going, my wonderful story readers? I'm updating now before I get sidetracked with schoolwork again. Enjoy!
Sherlock didn't seem excited in the least over the fact that Molly insisted on coming with him, but their fight was costing them time.
"How will he know where to go?" Molly asked as she was dragged alongside Sherlock.
"He'll follow us. He knows I saw him. He wants revenge for leading Scotland Yard to his division." Sherlock replied.
Molly gave him a look of confusion, "Division?"
"Yes. Come to find out, the group is separated into separate divisions. Each division has a trusted man or woman put in charge." Sherlock explained.
"And why didn't you catch him when you went on your little suicide mission?"
Sherlock sighed, "It was an abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere; he was hiding somewhere above our heads when he shot me." The two were heading into a ridiculously large wave of people when Sherlock lost his grip on Molly's wrist, and she was lost in the sea of bodies.
"Sherlock?" Molly called.
She couldn't see anything past the men and women who were considerably taller than her. She swore silently to herself for losing him. Then she remembered the assassin that just so conveniently happened to be stalking them at that particular moment in time, and that she had little to no time to stall. She fought her way through the sea of people, who looked like they were gathering for something along the lines of a party or a concert.
"Sherlock?!" she screamed.
She thought she heard a faint yell something similar to her name, but she couldn't be sure.
After what seemed like forever, Molly finally found her way out of the crowd and to a clear view of the sidewalk. She pressed her back against the brick wall that lead off into an alleyway, and closed her eyes for a moment to calm herself down. She felt an arm slide around her waist and pull her off the wall, and, without thinking, drover her fist into his face.
Molly gasped when she looked to see who her fist had collided with, "God! Sherlock! Don't sneak up on me like that!" she yelled.
"Be quiet, keep walking. He's still following us." He instructed, grabbing his nose in his hands.
"I'm sorry. Are you alright?" she asked finally. "I'm Fine. You have one hell of a swing, Molly." Sherlock commented.
"That's the upside to growing up with 2 older brothers." She joked.
"Come here. I can't lose you in another crowd like that." He slipped an arm around her waist once again. Molly stiffened at his touch.
"Calm down. He hasn't gotten to us yet." Sherlock said.
"Sorry. How much further?" She asked. "One more block. There' s an abandoned storage facility up ahead where we meet John and Lestrade."
Molly had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she still continued.
"Are you ready?" he added. Molly nodded, "Ready as I'll ever be."
Sherlock grinned. "You enjoy this, aren't you?" Sherlock commented.
"Enjoy what, exactly?" She asked.
"Being in danger. You enjoy getting out of the morgue." He said.
Molly shook her head. "You're insane."
"Yes, it would seem so." He joked.
When they finally made it to the warehouse, Sherlock glanced over his shoulder first, and pulled Molly around so that she was facing him. "Molly, listen. He'll be walking around back, and by the time we make it in there, he'll be waiting. You need to wait at the front entrance for us. Whatever happens, do not come in." he explained.
"Sherlock, what if he has others with him?" she asked.
"He wouldn't bring more than one in with him, he would draw attention to himself. And besides, he wants to scare us into backing off their case, which we won't do, obviously. Stay. Here." He told her once more.
"Sherlock, wait." She grabbed him by his coat sleeve and pressed her lips to his. It happened quickly, but she savored each second of it as if it were the last time she would ever have the opportunity which, she was well aware that it could be.
She pulled away from him and looked him in the eyes. "Be careful." She breathed.
She hadn't expected him to react to her kissing him once again. Last time this happened, he wasn't even phased by it. This time, however, Sherlock Holmes didn't react… well… like Sherlock Holmes. He turned completely towards the Pathologist this time, grabbing her face and pulling her lips to his for the second time that evening.
He hadn't said another word as he turned and headed into the old warehouse.
SsSsSs
Sherlock walked through the door of the warehouse that was hanging halfway off its hinges. He walked along as the guilt forming in the pit of his stomach nagged him. Of course he had lied to Molly.
Neither John, or Scotland Yard were meeting him there. This was between him; and the man behind the 5th division; Thomas Graves.
He wasn't about to drag his friends further down the life-threatening path he'd chosen. Lestrade was still interrogating the men they'd brought in once more, and John had gone to get the number of the nurse, Mary, that had stitched his bullet wound. Shoving the thoughts to the very back of his mind, Sherlock scanned the area for Thomas Graves.
The warehouse, which had previously been used for storage, was fairly large in size. There were 6, no, 7 doors aside from the one Sherlock had entered. The walls were a thin metal, which was stripped completely of any insulin that had existed, that was mostly a deep rust color. The stairs led up to a second story, which was supported by only 3 metal beams at this point. That's where Sherlock saw Thomas emerge from the shadows.
"So you were following us, then." Sherlock said casually.
The man's deep throaty laugh echoed through the space. "Yes, but you already knew this, didn't you, Mr. Holmes?" he asked.
"You missed when you shot me, you know." Sherlock stated.
"Well you were running through a darkened barn in the middle of the chaos you caused by arresting my associates. Do give me a break."
Thomas Graves had the type of British accent that you would only hear from the villain in a 1970's spy movie.
"You've been up to quite a bit, haven't you, Mr. Graves?" Sherlock asked.
The man let out a cold laugh and pulled a gun from his belt loop.
"Oh, ending the conversation so soon?" the consulting detective mocked.
"All good things must come to an end, Mr. Holmes." He said coldly.
Sherlock looked above his head; there were an identical set of steps that lead to a platform similar to the one Thomas Graves stood on, aside from the fact that it was only hanging by a single cable that was on the verge of the breaking. Then he understood.
"You're going to try to shoot the cable? From there?" Sherlock laughed. "How good is your shot?" he teased.
The man gave him a cold stare. "I could kill you, or I could kill the pretty little woman you have waiting for you outside. I could kill John Watson, or the old lady hanging around Baker Street. I can get to anyone at any time, and there is not one thing that you can do about it."
Sherlock's blood boiled. "You keep away from John and Mrs. Hudson, and you stay well away from Molly Hooper." He warned.
"Or what?"
Sherlock pulled his gun from his coat pocket. "Don't push your luck." He spat.
The man smiled something sinister. He put his arms up in a mocking gesture, and then pointed his gun towards the consulting detective.
"You have 30 seconds to take this offer." The man began, "You back off this case, and I'll make sure your little crime fighting group stays out of harm's way. Take it or leave it."
"You won't win this fight, you know. I know about your underground organization. I know all of your dirty little secrets, and I will use them to my advantage." Sherlock pulled a small rectangular photo from his pocket. "And who would this be? Your family. A wife and two kids; twins, I assume. The girl is in perfect health, but your son is suffering from a rare form of cancer. So how is it that you hide your past from them? Does your wife know, or is she just playing along?" Sherlock spoke slowly, and was sure to make his point clear.
Thomas Graves burst into a fit of giggles, before raising his gun to the consulting detective's head.
"Times up."
MmMmMm
"You're where?" Johns voice went from happy to serious.
"You mean… you're still at the hospital?" Molly asked.
"Yes. I thought Sherlock had just run after you. He told me he was going to talk to you."
"No, John, oh my god." Molly stammered. "Molly, what has he done this time?" John asked.
"He said the man who shot him yesterday was stalking me, and that you and Lestrade had people here to catch him."
"Jesus." John breathed.
"John, you need to get here now. Tell Mary Morstan that Molly Hooper said to come immediately with an ambulance, and call Greg now. Sherlock's probably being held at gunpoint by now." Molly instructed.
"Alright. I'll be there in less than five minutes. Wait for us to get there, don't go in!" John yelled into the phone before ending the call.
Molly stood outside for at least 3 minutes. When she heard sirens crying out, she decided that she need to go in before Sherlock got himself killed. John would just have to deal with whatever happened to her when he got there.
She took a deep breath to help soothe her pounding heart, and stepped through the doorway; careful to stay hidden in the shadows, and saw Sherlock standing at least 15 feet away from her, pointing a gun at who she assumed was the man that shot him.
First she heard the laughter that sent shivers down her spine. Then she heard his voice.
"Time's up." He said.
Molly's heartbeat picked up at the sound of his voice, and she assumed that the attention needed to be drawn away from Sherlock.
"Sherlock!" She screamed.
The last thing she heard before the darkness took over her vision was the sound of a gunshot, and the sirens growing closer.
SsSsSs
"Molly, wake up or so help me God." Someone warned. She knew who it was as soon as she heard the voice; it wasn't Sherlock or John. It was Mary Morstan.
She blinked at the sudden blinding sunlight and looked the woman in the eyes. Her makeup had left a black smear down her face, and her blue eyes were glassy with tears.
"God, Molly. Don't scare me like that!" She pulled the brown haired woman to her feet once she nodded that she was alright to stand, then wrapped her arms around her in a somewhat painful embrace.
"What happened?" Molly asked painfully.
"You had thousands of pounds of metal fall on you and almost kill you. You'd better be glad most of it was blocked by the hollowed out cage you were trapped under." Mary explained.
Molly smiled at her friend and wiped a tear from her face. "I'm alright. Calm down."
Mary laughed, "I know. You just scared the shit out of me." she smiled.
"Wait, where's Sherlock? Is he alright?" she asked as soon as the memories came flooding back to her.
Mary smiled and pointed towards the ambulance where Sherlock was trying to fight off the paramedics.
"Let. Me. Through." His voice was threatening, but the men refused to move. "Sherlock, stop fighting them. She'll be alright." John told the consulting detective.
Molly stood from the place she had been dragged to; a patch of grass outside of the warehouse, and made her way towards Sherlock. He had blood dripping down the left side of his face, which was caked in dirt and dust, and his suit was torn and ruined beyond repair. Even then, she had never been so happy to see him.
"Let him through!" Molly called to the paramedics, "I'm fine. Let him through." She said kindly.
The men gave her a questioning look, but let Sherlock pass anyways. The two stood and stared at each other in silence before running at full speed towards one another.
Sherlock picked Molly up by the waist, which seemed completely effortless, and pulled her close to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist just as she had done weeks before, while her lips came down hard on his. The two grunted in pain, but they didn't pull away from one another.
"I could kill you for lying to me." She said. Sherlock laughed.
"I could kill you for intervening. How's your head?"
"Pounding. What about yours?" She put her hand over the patch of bloodstained hair on his head.
"Not to worry. I have a hard head." He joked. Molly laughed and wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck. John, Mary, and Detective Lestrade all stood and watched in complete shock as the pair stood completely engrossed in one another.
"I have to admit, I did not see that coming." Mary said to John.
Sherlock gently placed Molly on her feet once more, and they both looked over to the small crowd that had gathered to watch them. "You know they're going to be talking about this forever, right?"
She asked.
Sherlock let the pathologist fall gently to her feet, and placed another kiss on her lips.
"Let them talk."
Sherlock glanced towards John and Mary, who finally stopped staring at the two.
"Finally." Mary commented.
"I know. It's about time." John joked. "Would you like to go out to dinner Friday night?" he added.
Mary let a smile escape her lips. "It would be my pleasure, Mr. Watson." She replied.
Authors Note: Okay, happy ending for this chapter! I really didn't expect to bring Mary into the story so soon. But anyways, there you have it. :)