Authors Note: Well… don't know what to say, other than thank you again for continuing to follow this story! Anyways, here's chapter 9. Sorry for the long delay. Hopefully I'll have another chapter up within the next few days. :)

It was without a doubt perplexing as to how much one's life can change in just a matter of 6 weeks. Molly had gone back to work at Bart's 4 days after the incident with Thomas Graves, much to the reluctance of Sherlock. For an entire week, Sherlock refuted any and all cases Lestrade tried to persuade him with. He insisted that it wasn't safe in the slightest for her to be walking in the open with assassins on the loose.

Though she knew he was only staying with her for her safety, he did get more than a little bit suffocating. Luckily, John would often come by and pull him away from the morgue while Molly worked on some well overdue paperwork. Thank God for John, she would think.

After completely restricting her for an entire week, she had convinced him to take some of the few cases Lestrade was offering. It's not that she minded being with him; she just wanted some time to herself, so she could actually focus on her work. She knew Mike Stamford had talked to Sherlock, and that he excused any and all days missed, but she felt like she owed him for being so understanding. Any normal boss would've fired her on the spot.

It had been a full 6 weeks since her entire life was basically packed into a glass jar, and thrown into the middle of the ocean during a category 4 hurricane.

She had been stabbed, drugged, lied to, deprived of sleep, and kissed by the one person she'd never expect to have a romantic relationship with. Hell, she'd even slept with the great Sherlock Holmes; a fact that they had somehow kept from the press.

Still, Molly couldn't help but be happy and content with everything that had happened.. She knew her life would never be normal, after all of this was said and done, but she was okay with that.

Sherlock was all but easy to live with, and often times boredom got the best of both of them, but they were making due. They were alive. That's more than she could say for herself in a world without Sherlock Holmes..

SsSsS

"Molly."

The pathologist turned and met the eyes of a rather worried looking Sherlock. She checked the clock on the lab wall. Her shift didn't end for another hour.

"Sherlock, what are you…"

She didn't get to finish her sentence, because Sherlock had grabbed her by the shoulders, and planted a firm kiss on her lips. She let out a small yelp of surprise. Sherlock very rarely acted out of emotion.

It wasn't what most people thought; the man obviously had emotions. He'd almost died several times trying to protect the ones he loved. He wasn't a robot; he was just very in control of himself. He knew how to keep himself relaxed in nerve racking situations; something that Molly always respected.

The thing is, this wasn't the Sherlock Holmes she'd come to know.

"Sherlock, what are you doing? I thought you were working." She said, pulling away from the consulting detective.

"I was. Lestrade was shot at." he said. "Oh god, Sherlock, is he alright?" Molly asked.

"Of course he's fine, but it looks like our friend Thomas Graves is up to his old tricks again." Sherlock said quickly. "Did you see him?"

He shook his head. "No. It was definitely a different shooter. Graves wouldn't have missed."

"Did you ever think that maybe he was trying to miss?" Molly asked.

She felt the small brace on his wrist that she insisted he wear for the time being pressing into her back as he guided her towards the doors of the lab, picking up her belongings and handing them to her as they walked.

"Yes, which is why we need to go. Now." Sherlock said hurriedly.

"But if they're after me then who else is in danger?" she asked. "I don't know. Where's Mary?" he asked.

Molly thought for a second. "Um. She said something about going to dinner with John at 5. She's probably at home. Her shift ended about 2 hours ago."

"Good. I'll text John and tell him to get over to her apartment as soon as he can." Sherlock replied.

"Just out of curiosity, how many of them are there?" Molly asked, obviously fed up with the situation at this point. "John and I think it's somewhere around 60, which is good considering we originally thought it would be hundreds. Even if I can talk Mycroft into helping us, there is no way that this is going to end just yet. We need to come up with a plan." Sherlock said.

Molly glanced up at Sherlock, who looked worse than she'd seen him in a long time. He had bags under his eyes, that were only enhanced by his pale skin. He took short, shallow breaths despite the fact that they were both walking rather slowly. Not only that, he looked like he hadn't shaved in days.

"And then what?" she asked. Sherlock didn't have to answer her. She knew what he intended to do.

"I won't kill them if I don't have to." he said finally. Molly shook her head and stopped walking.

"Why can't you just leave this case alone?" she asked, tears threatening to fall.

"Because they're killing innocent civilians. They need to be stopped. Even if we put them in the most secure prison in England they'll be sentenced to death anyways. I don't intend to kill them all." he argued.

"So what is it that you intend to do exactly?" Molly snapped. "I intend to stop them and protect the ones I care about by all means necessary." he said.

Molly sighed, "Let's go. We'll talk about this some other time. Let's just get through tonight." she said in a hushed- almost whisper.

He nodded wordlessly, and they headed back to the safety of Baker Street once again.

MmMmM

Sherlock stared at her as they sat side by side on the couch of 221b Baker Street. She knew he was staring at her, and he knew that she knew that he was staring at here. So really, there was no winning in this situation.

"What's the matter?" Sherlock finally asked. Molly sighed. "What makes you think something's wrong?" she said sarcastically, "Because everything is just going so well, right? I mean, why should I be angry when I'm living the dream; hiding from killers with big guns. Sounds like every child's dream!" she yelled.

Sherlock stared at her, "Okay. I'm sorry you're clearly not happy, but I'm doing everything I can!" "I don't want you to be sorry I just want things to go back to normal. I'm tired of arguing, and worrying about you and John, and what might happen if you go out on a case and you don't come back! I'm tired of being pulled away from my work because some new criminal is after us! I'm tired of barely sleeping! I'm just tired…" Molly trailed off, letting more tears fall.

"You think I'm not annoyed with this situation as well? It's been weeks, Molly! I've been shot! You've been stabbed! John and I are working non-stop on this case! I don't know what more you want me to do." Sherlock yelled.

"I need to get out of here." Molly said, grabbing her phone and heading towards the door. Sherlock pulled her back by her arm. "No. It's not safe. I already told you." he said.

"I don't really care at this point, Sherlock! I need to get away from all of this!" she yelled. "Molly, calm down." he said. The irritation in his voice was evident.

Molly pulled her arm from the consulting detective's grasp and took a deep breath, "I'll text you in a little bit. Just let me get some air." she said.

Sherlock nodded and watched her as she basically sprinted towards the door. Despite the terrible feeling he had in the pit of his stomach, he remained silent.

SsSsS

She knew yelling at him was a mistake, but she kept walking down the darkened streets of London as the tears she'd held back for far too long final y escaped her eyes. After about 30 minutes of just silently crying and walking, she took her phone from her back pocket and glanced at the screen. 7 new messages from Sherlock.

Please text me when you're ready to come back.

-SH

Are you alright?

-SH

I'm worried. Text me.

-SH

Molly, I'm serious.

-SH

I'm sorry. Please just call me.

-SH

You're scaring me. Call me now.

-SH

I'm coming to find you if you don't call me within the next 5 minutes.

-SH

Molly checked the time the last message was received. 3 minutes ago. Hopefully he hadn't left the house yet. She quickly dialed Sherlock's phone number and waited for him to answer.

"Molly?" Sherlock basically screamed into the phone. "Yes. I'm fine." She said quietly. "You've been crying." he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

"Yes. I was. And you're out of breath. I take it you've already left the flat?" she asked. Sherlock stayed silent. "Maybe. Just out of curiosity, where are you?" he asked.

Molly giggled. The bastard was following her. "I'm about a half of a block away. I basically walked in circles."

"I think I see you. Turn around." Sherlock said.

She did, and saw none other than Sherlock Holmes raising his hand to make himself noticeable. Molly hung up the phone and ran towards the consulting detective, basically throwing herself into his arms.

"You followed me, didn't you?" her voice was muffled by his coat. "I kept a respectable distance." he smiled. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. None of this is your fault." she said, meeting eyes with Sherlock.

He wiped the tears from her face and placed a kiss on her forehead. "All is forgiven." he whispered.

Then the gunfire came.

"Get down!" Sherlock yelled. He'd completely shielded Molly with his body as they fell to the ground.

"Sherlock." Molly breathed.

Sherlock propped himself up on his hands and stared down at the pathologist. "Are you okay?" he breathed.

Molly wrapped her arms around Sherlock, and he pulled themselves up. "We need to go now. Run." he grabbed her hand as he spoke, preparing for their sprint back to the safety of their flat.

"Sherlock tell me that bullet wasn't meant for us." Molly asked. She was answered by the sound of 3 more bullets hitting the wall less than a foot above their heads.

Molly tripped but Sherlock was pulling her up by her waist before she even hit the ground. At this point they had taken shelter behind the dumpster of a restaurant. "Does that answer your question?" He called from his half standing, half crouching position.

"What are you doing?" Molly asked. Sherlock didn't answer as he removed the gun from his jacket pocket, and clicked the safety off. "Stay down." he said. She grabbed his jacket sleeve and pulled him down to her eye level, pressing her lips to his once again.

She knew what he was about to do, and she knew that there was no way in hell that he would ever listen to her. "I'll tell John to call Lestrade. Be careful." she whispered.

Sherlock placed a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes before he nodded and inched his way out of the alley. God knows how he could tell which direction the bullets came from in the middle of the night.

Molly calmed her shaking hands and dialed John's number. "Hello?" John asked as soon as he picked up the phone. "John," she whispered, "Me and Sherlock, we're currently being shot at. Sherlock just went out with a gun. I need you to call Lestrade." she said.

"Shit, are you two alright?" he asked. "We're fine for now. I just worry about Sherlock." she said. "Alright. I'll call him right now. Where are you two?" John asked. Molly gave him the address before she hung up the phone and waited anxiously behind the dumpster.

Her heart was pounding, and she felt like she was going to vomit, but she never once moved from her spot. Her heart was still pounding at an abnormal and probably extremely unhealthy rate when she felt strong hands that weren't Sherlock's haul her up.

"Let go of me!" she screamed. The man had a firm grip around her shoulders at this point, but she was not having it.

She waited until the man pushed her up against the wall before she kicked him hard in his delicate area. She made an effort to run but his hand was around her ankle and pulling her to the ground within seconds. At this point he was climbing on top of her, and she could see the dark shadow of his face. He had slicked back black hair and a long narrow nose that fit his long horse face perfectly. His smile sent shivers down her spine. There was something hauntingly familiar about this man.

"You're a feisty one, I see. Brian was right." he laughed, but was caught off guard by Molly pulling back a fist, and punching him square in the nose.

He brought his hand back and slapped her hard across her cheek. She let out a cry. "You're almost as hard to kill as that detective fellow. You would think almost being torn to bits by half of an entire building caving in on you would have done the trick." he snapped.

"So you're Thomas Graves. I have to say, you're even uglier up close." Molly spat. The man laughed, though she knew he found nothing amusing.

"You're going to be fun to kill. Maybe that detective fellow will take a hint after you're dead."

Molly's blood went cold. "Don't you dare touch him." she said. "Funny. He said the same thing about you." Thomas said. "And besides, I have no reason to hurt him if he does decide to back off. We leave him alone if he leaves us alone."

"Oh, and then more people can die. Good idea." Molly grunted from underneath the weight of the man. He grinned something sinister at the small pathologist before he pulled out his gun and held it to her temple.

"Don't do this. He'll only come after you." Molly begged.

"She's right you know." a voice that was all too familiar said. Sherlock.

Molly craned her neck and smiled at the consulting detective, who now had Thomas Graves at gunpoint. "Let her go or I'll kill you." Sherlock said. His voice was cold, hard, and devoid of all emotion, besides anger.

The man named Thomas looked Sherlock dead in the eye as he loaded the small gun, and pressed it to Molly's head. The sound of a single gun firing rang in Molly's ears, and she felt the weight of a body land on her.

"Molly." Sherlock said, running to push the man off the pathologist. Molly wrapped her arms tightly around the consulting detective, and let out a cry. "Are you alright?" he asked, pulling her away from him, and checking her up and down for any injuries.

She nodded wordlessly, still staring at the man's dead body. Sherlock had shot him through his side; she didn't need to perform an autopsy to know that the bullet when clear through his side; clear through his heart.

"Please talk to me. Who else was here?" he asked. Molly shook her head. "Nobody. Um. I- I called John and he told me he would be here soon." she stammered.

"You're shaking. come here." Sherlock pulled Molly into his coat and stroked her arm soothingly.

"There had to be two people, right? Did you find the other one?" she asked. "Yes. I found one. He was terrified; said he was only trying to scare us. He's handcuffed to the street sign, and I took his gun from him."

Molly forced a smile, "Are you okay?" she asked. "Yes. Of course." "You just killed someone." she said, her voice wavering.

"He was going to kill you. I had no choice."

She wrapped her arms around Sherlock once again. "You saved my life." she whispered into his chest.

"Just returning the favor." he replied.

Author's Note: I am sorry again for the long wait! On the bright side I should have the other chapter up soon. Bye for now. :)

Also, as you know, I really am not familiar with London, so forgive me if the location of everything is completely wrong.