Author's Note: Hi again! Can't believe I'm on my 10th chapter! I'm really sorry about the delay… School's out for the summer, so I'll have plenty of time to write now! :)

"Sherlock? Molly?" A voice rang out from the alleyway. "Over here!" Sherlock called.

John stepped forwards and stared wide eyed at the scene before him. Sherlock and Molly were leaning against a rather filthy and graphited brick wall, far away from where the body of Thomas Graves lay. "What happened?" John asked. "He attacked Molly, and I shot him. On the bright side, Lestrade no longer has to bring him in for questioning." Sherlock joked.

Molly cast an angry glare his way, which caused him to immediately wipe the smirk from his face. "We need to go see Mycroft. Now. Where is Lestrade?" Sherlock asked. "You forget that he was shot at. He's home with this wife and kids. Detective Inspector Dimmock Is on his way." John said.

Sherlock sighed. "Fine. Take Molly home, I'll stay here." Sherlock said. Molly rolled her eyes and walked over to Sherlock, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards her. "I don't want to sit at home while you try and fail to once again persuade your asshole of a brother to help you," She basically yelled.

Sherlock looked at John, and then back at Molly, completely speechless. "Glad you see it my way. John, stay here and tell Dimmock that we'll be down to Scotland Yard shortly." Molly demanded, pulling Sherlock towards the street.

"We're going to talk to your brother, and if he doesn't answer each and every one of our questions in precise detail, I will kill him myself." Molly said through clenched teeth.

Sherlock grinned, "You're amazing." he said, waving down a cab, and opening the door for a rather flustered Molly.

"Thanks." she said, placing her hand on his. "We need to stop fighting. It's obviously taking it's toll on both of us, and seeing as how we're in a relationship, I don't see that as a good thing." Sherlock said.

Molly smiled. "What?" Sherlock asked, "We're in a relationship?" She replied, no longer trying to contain her smile.

Sherlock placed a kiss on her hand, "Is that alright with you, Miss Hooper?" he said in that same deep intense voice that gave Molly chills. "Hm, I'll think about it." She teased.

SsSsSs

"So let me get this straight; you and Miss Hooper have, much to my disagreement, been working behind my back to find and rid yourselves of members of this hit squad?" Mycroft asked, slightly annoyed at this point.

"Precisely. Now if you value our lives in the slightest, I suggest you work with rather than against us." Sherlock replied sarcastically. Mycroft chuckled, "Our lives? You do realize of course now your little relationship is public, and you're a lot easier to find, don't you?" Mycroft slapped a newspaper with the headline, "CONSULTING DETECTIVE FALLEN IN LOVE?" printed across it.

below the headline was a picture of Sherlock and Molly kissing at the site of the old warehouse, the night they'd almost died.

"Who published this?" Molly asked. "Kitty Riley. If I'm not mistaken Sherlock and Dr. Watson made her acquaintance before Sherlock here faked his death." Mycroft replied, now walking around the room while he twirled his umbrella in his hand.

"Well Thomas Graves is dead, if that makes you feel any better. I shot him after he attacked Molly in the alleyway." Sherlock said

Mycroft stopped at this, "You killed Thomas Graves?" he said. "Yes, it was him or Molly, and we didn't exactly have an alternative. I'm asking you again, will you work with us?" Sherlock asked again.

The man stopped twirling his umbrella for a moment and stared at the two before slowly nodding. "Yes. I'll have secret service men protecting you and your friends at all hours of the day. Any information discovered will be delivered to you immediately." He said.

"Thank you," Molly breathed. "No problem. Oh, and another thing; it seems our mother and father read the article and they're dying to meet Dr. Hooper. A car will pick you two up tomorrow at precisely 10 pm. Be ready." he instructed.

Sherlock looked both annoyed and bored at this, but nodded anyways, placing a hand on Molly's back and guiding her towards the double oak doors.

"Well that went better than I'd expected." Molly said as they entered the black car. "Yes, I do hope you don't mind meeting my parents. They're a bit…" Sherlock stopped, "Smart, intelligent? Retired police Detectives?" Molly asked, "No, ordinary." he said. "Well there's a shock." she joked.

MmMmMm

"Sherlock, you really shouldn't let the press publish things like this!" Sherlock's mother exclaimed, throwing the paper down on the table. "So tell me what you were up to, and don't think for one second that you can lie to me, Sherlock Holmes." Mrs. Holmes continued, sounding quite a lot like Sherlock at this point.

"Well I was actually investigating something for the people down at Scotland Yard, and Molly just so happened to be there." he lied. "Yeah, that's believable. If I find out you two were doing something life-threatening, I will not be pleased with you." she said, pointing towards Sherlock. He looked somewhat offended, "Why me?" "Because you'll no doubt bring this nice girl into it." She said, patting Molly kindly on the back.

"It's okay, believe me when I say he would protect me with his life." Molly chimed in. She'd decided to wear a dark blue, almost black dress that came down just past her knees and zipped up her back. Her hair was straightened, not pulled back into her usual ponytail, and small diamond studs were visible only when she swept her hair behind her ear.

The older woman perked up a bit at this. "Oh, leave them to their little adventures. They're making memories. Just be glad one of our boys finally found a nice girl to go out with." Mr. Holmes interjected.

Molly blushed and glanced over at Sherlock, who was already staring at her when she turned around.

SsSsSs

"Well your parents seem…" "Annoying, overprotective, nosy" Sherlock interrupted, "No, I was actually going for nice, normal, caring towards their son." Molly finished.

"Well I see no difference between the two. Did you enjoy a night out of the flat?" Sherlock asked, attempting to change the conversation, Molly assumed.

"Yeah. I did. Has Mycroft found anything else for the case?" she asked. Sherlock slid the small silver key into the door knob and unlocked the door, gesturing for Molly to go inside, which she found oddly gentleman-like for Sherlock.

"No, but they'll probably be working out a plan of sorts that will no doubt lead to a failed attempt at killing us and getting us out of the way. They're have been no other murders, right?" Sherlock asked. "No, just one car crash victim that was odd, but not in that sense. The rest either died from cancer, natural causes, or something of that nature." she confirmed.

The two had moved up the stairs, and Molly sat in Sherlock's chair while he reached for his violin, placing the instrument under his chin. "You haven't played in a while." Molly said.

Sherlock tensed up, and said nothing in return, which Molly found somewhat strange, and then began playing a song that sounded unfamiliar, which means he probably composed it himself. She listened with her eyes closed for several minutes before Sherlock stopped, and she could feel his eyes watching her.

"What is it?" she asked. "If you could change anything that's happened since you moved in, would you?" Sherlock asked.

Molly was sort of taken back by this, "Why?" she asked. "Just answer the question. Please." he said, stepping closer to the her.

She stood up and closed the remaining space between them, running her fingers through his hair, "I wouldn't change what's happened between us." she whispered. "But if there was a place where you could walk outside without fear of getting shot at, would you go?" Sherlock asked, more persistent this time.

Molly pulled away from the consulting detective, "Something is definitely wrong. What is it?" She asked. "I was talking to Mycroft earlier," he began, "I thought he hadn't given you any information on the case." She said. Sherlock shook his head, "We weren't talking about the case. We were talking about you. He says that there are secure locations in the United States where no one would be able to find you, and whatever they have planned won't involve you." he explained.

"And where would you be?" she asked, her voice a low whisper. "I would be here." he admitted. "Then I'm not going. Not without you, and don't even ask me if I'll consider it, because the answer is no." she said sternly.

"Molly, just-" "I said no, Sherlock. Do you know what it would do to me if I went on a little detour to America while you're back here getting killed? Did you even consider it? Because I have, and let me tell you right now that it would destroy me, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock stayed silent. It wasn't that he didn't have anything to say. He had plenty of things to say; he just wanted to hear her out.

"You are one selfish bastard, do you know that? I spent years helping you, allowing you access to the lab, access to bodies, making you coffee, putting up with your little deductions day after day; and you never looked at me twice. That is until you actually needed me for something bigger than lab access. That's when I thought you'd realize what a blind idiot you had been. 6 years. 6 years I waited for an opportunity like this to tell you that you may be a sociopath, or a lunatic, or the biggest and most clueless bastard on the face of the planet, but that will never change the fact that I am completely and utterly in love with you, and if that's not enough to convince you that losing you would kill me, then I don't know what is." She said, tears threatening to fall at this point.

Sherlock couldn't stand it any longer. He closed the remaining space in between them with a single stride, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his lips to hers. Molly raked her fingers through his dark curls once again, which made Sherlock grab her by the waist and lift her into his arms. Her legs were now wrapped around his waist, and he was fiddling with the zipper on the back of her dress.

"Sherlock…" she breathed. "Hmm?" "Not here… bedroom…" was all she said.

Sherlock walked with Molly still wrapped around his waist into his bedroom, and laid her gently on the bed, "I'm sorry…" he said, kissing her again, "Don't be sorry" she replied.

Sherlock practically ripped his shirt off as to save her the trouble of buttons, and kicked his shoes off. There was still a bandage on his shoulder from where he was shot, and Molly wondered if this was causing him any pain.

She touched a hand to the bandage and glanced up at Sherlock, "Does this h-" "No. It doesn't hurt." he said, still staring at her.

"I love you." was all he said. "I love you too." she whispered.

MmMmMm

Molly hooper woke up alone in Sherlock's bed with a mess of blankets and sheets thrown over her body. She stretched and threw the covers off of her before standing and walking over to the small luggage bag she kept her clothes in.

After clothing herself and taming her hair into a somewhat decent looking bun, the pathologist walked into the living room. Sherlock was sitting in his usual chair next to the fireplace, which was turned off. Early Spring was bringing much warmer days than expected in London, which was rather enjoyable, considering winter was cold as all hell.

"Good morning." Sherlock said, though he continued to stare at the empty fireplace. "Sleep well?" Molly asked. "I did. And you?" he replied. "Always, when you're there." she flirted.

Sherlock turned his head towards Molly at this, grinning for a moment. "I don't understand." he said. His voice had taken on a more serious tone.

Molly walked over to his chair and stared down at him. "What don't you understand?" she asked. "This… assassin group. It doesn't make sense. They stared off killing in ways that would no doubt hurt those involved in the British government, then we come along, of course. We start to go somewhere on the case only to find out that it basically lead us to a dead end until we find Thomas Graves, who shot me in the shoulder, tried to kill both of us on two other occasions, and went after Lestrade." he explained.

"So what?" Molly asked. "If they wanted us dead, we would've been dead. End of story. There's no way someone tries to kill 3 people on 4 different occasions and fail every single time." "But Thomas Graves tried to kill me. He wouldn't try to get himself killed, he wanted revenge on you." "He was trying to get to me through you. The only reason he didn't kill me was because he made the choice of taking an inexperienced assassin out to go after someone on their hit list; especially now that we're most likely at the top of that list. He didn't do that just for the hell of it, he new that he wasn't ready and he took advantage." Sherlock explained. "So if we're at the top of their hit list…" Molly trailed off, "then they must be planning a way to take us out."

"Oh you two do work well together."

Sherlock turned his head towards the door leading to the stairs. "Mycroft." he said. "How's the lovely couple?" Mycroft teased. "Very well. So tell me; what is it you've come to tell us?"

"The people who are after you; they're not British. They're Italian. They formed their group in the 1900's full of rogue members of the Italian Mafia. But of course, after the Mafia found out about their reeking havoc and murdering people, they drove them out of Italy. The group died down for a while, and this is supposed to be it's big comeback. They live by the phrase 'L'anarchia è la libertà', 'Kill or be killed'". Mycroft explained. "I would have texted you but I fear the phone lines have been tapped. If I do find any further information, however, I will send one of my men over to deliver the information." He added.

"Thank you. I'll come find you if I get a lead on the case." Sherlock said, waving his brother off.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Have a good day, Miss Hooper." He said. "Thank you, Mycroft." She replied. "I'll follow you out." she added, running down the stairs towards the man.

When they finally got to the bottom of the staircase, she checked behind her before whispering, "Listen to me; If you think for one minute I'm going to let him barge into another one of their divisions or whatever they're called without any backup, you're crazy. Don't you dare let anything happen to him." Molly warned.

Mycroft looked amused, "Miss Hooper, my brother is going to go wherever he pleases whenever he pleases, regardless of who does what to help him. If not for you, he'd have already had this case solved." he snapped. "You are a distraction to him."

Molly laughed coldly, "I may be a distraction to him, but I'm the only one trying to keep him alive. He almost died the other night. Don't let it happen again, or I will kill you myself." She said through clenched teeth.

She opened the door and gestured for the man to walk out, slamming the door behind him.

SsSsSs

"Sherlock." Molly said in a half whisper. "Hmm?" he mumbled. "I'm not a distraction to you in any way, am I?" She felt like a child asking this, because she knew he loved her- and she loved him. It was stupid to take into consideration what Mycroft said to her, but for some reason she couldn't shake it from her mind.

She was sitting across from Sherlock in John's usual chair with her legs pulled up to her chest. "Why would you ask that?" was all he said. "Because you're so focused on keeping me safe that it seems like you forget about the case. You almost got yourself killed because I stormed out of the flat-" "He wouldn't have killed me, Molly." "You get the idea. You were shot at. I distracted you long enough to make you vulnerable, and it could have gotten you hurt." She said.

Sherlock looked at Molly for a moment, and then shook his head, "Come here." he said, motioning for her to come and sit on his lap. She did so without another word, and he could see the worry in her eyes. "You are not a distraction to me, Molly Hooper. You are a privilege. I could have died on hundreds of wild goose chases my brother's sent me on, but I'm still here. Yes, I am concerned for your safety but it is in no way taking away from the progress of this case. This is just a waiting game. We've already made our move. Mycroft has told me to back off for one final time, and I'm going to ignore it completely, as always. Nothing's changed." He explained.

Molly was curled up completely on his lap, and had her head resting on his chest. "Everything's changed." She whispered. Sherlock heard her sniffle, and then felt her body begin to shake with sobs.

She didn't know why she was crying, really. She was just tired of all of this. All of the hiding. The living in fear. The never seeing the light of day. It was a lot to take in, and sometimes it was just too much to take in.

He rubbed up and down her back, whispering over and over, "Shh, it's going to be alright. We're both here, that's all that counts. Everything's going to be okay."

Molly stopped crying after a while and just sat in Sherlock's lap. She remained silent and Sherlock continued to rub her back up and down until John walked in, followed by Mary Morstan. The two were leaning on each other laughing, and stopped dead in their tracks the moment they saw the two sitting in the chair, Molly still curled up in Sherlock's lap.

"Well I do hope we're not interrupting something." Mary joked, casting a glance over at Molly. "No, come in." The pathologist grinned and her friend and stood from the chair sherlock sat in. John opened his mouth just as Sherlock's phone rang.

"Sherlock Holmes." he said, sounding quite annoyed. "Where? Yes. I'll be there in 15 minutes." the consulting detective shut his phone and looked towards John, "There's been a murder. Lestrade thinks it's got something to do with the case." Sherlock stood from the chair and grabed his gun, which was lying under a stack of files on the table. "You coming?" He asked Molly.

Mary grabbed her arm and pulled her down next to her on the couch. "No, you two go. This girl is staying with me. We've got some catching up to do." She said. "Okay, I'll text you in a while. Are you okay with me calling you into the hospital? May need you to look at the body." Sherlock asked. "Text away. We'll be right here." She said.

With that, both men headed down the stairs. Mary waited until the door slammed before she spoke, "So have you slept with him yet?" She asked. The question caught Molly off guard, and she stammered for a moment, "Um, I… No… We've just been um…" "Oh stop that. I know when you're lying." Mary smiled.

Molly's cheeks turned bright red and she smiled at the ground a moment before saying anything. "Well we might have." She teased. "It's about time! So how does it feel? Finally winning the heart of a man you've been in love with for years now?" She asked.

"Actually…" She paused, "it's the best feeling in the world." She said. "Enough about me, what about you and John?" She asked, "I know he didn't come home last night." She teased. The blonde woman laughed, "We didn't sleep together. We were out drinking and fell asleep at my apartment." she confessed. "John drunk. What's that like?" She wondered aloud. "I honestly don't remember. I was way more wasted than he was." She laughed.

"You and Sherlock should join us sometime." She offered. "That's a nice thought, but Sherlock is not the drinking type. Plus he's probably got security watching me 24/7, so I couldn't go out without his consent if I tried." She said. "Does he know how much longer this is going to go on for?" Mary asked.

Molly shook her head, "No. It could go on for a while. I just don't want him to get himself killed on this case." She said. "But if he doesn't stop them, they'll just continue to kill other people."

"Don't you think I know that? I know he's doing this to save our asses, but it's not worth his life." Molly argued. "I understand…" Mary trailed off.

"On a more positive note, Mike Stamford excused my absence under the circumstances that I was stabbed and almost crushed to death." She joked.

Mary laughed, "So do we have to ask permission from Sherlock, or can we get a coffee?" she asked. "Texting Sherlock. Coffee sounds wonderful."

Author's Note: Alright, there you have it! So sorry again for the delay. Hope you liked it, and if you were as confused reading this as I was writing this, I'm really sorry... :)

***Another thing; I do not plan on writing a full sex scene. I'll just leave that all to your imagination, because I'm 14 and I'm really not keen on writing smut… if you really want to read sex scenes, go buy 50 Shades of Grey.***

XXXDanielle