Molly runs past people, sometimes knocking a few of them over. She does not stop to apologise. Not today.
She has been running for a few minutes, but due to her speed she has left Baker Street far behind. Her legs are aching but she really cannot feel it. Her heart is thumping and her head is still ringing. She needs to run. She needs to get there. Wherever 'there' is.
The volume of the roar gets louder in her head. She must be getting closer now. It is so loud, that she cannot even hear her heartbeat anymore. Or the general cacophony of a metropolis around her.
She does not hear the car coming as it almost knocks her down. She does not hear the old lady whose shopping bags spill over as she pushes her in her haste. She does not hear the traffic cop shouting at her to slow down. She does not hear the angry remarks or see the rude gestures.
Finally, she stops. The sound is crystal clear here. Molly, the wolf calms down as Molly, the pathologist comes back. She takes stock of her surroundings. She is standing in front of an abandoned house. The neighbourhood is desolate. The house is of an average size.
Then she hears a whisper. A low seductive tone. It says, "Molly."
She closes her eyes and lets the soft whisper wraps its fingers around her. Then an invisible hook pulls her in. And she does not struggle.
She walks in the empty residence. The house seems as if it is about to be pulled down. Bare floor, damp walls, broken bricks and the usual old house smells. She follows the whisper. It leads her to the living room. In the middle of the room stands a man with his back turned towards her. Then he turns around.
Molly gasps out loud.
Sherlock gets down on the street. He cannot see her anymore. His heart skips a beat. He does not understand what had happened just now. Maybe he needs help.
He goes back in and calls Derek. He waits patiently for him, Stiles and Jackson to arrive. He knew those two teenagers would follow as well. They were all concerned for Molly.
Molly, with her sweet disposition and commendable inner strength inspired everyone to like her. Sherlock understands now. Her unwavering adoration for him always unnerved him. He could not understand why she would always do that, then, of course, the Christmas party happened. He knew he shocked a lot of people when he had apologised and kissed her. But he did genuinely feel horrible. He was on the edge about the whole Irene Adler fiasco and he took it out on her. And she never deserved it. It had bugged him. And it still bugged him when she had said "I don't count" in that tone to him. He could see the acceptance and disappointment in her eyes. But she still helped him to fake his death and keep the secret.
So when he had gone off to save the world, he had vowed that when he comes back, he would treat her better. What he did not see coming was her engagement. He did not like that development. He was not yet prepared to share his pathologist with anyone. This realisation scared him a bit. And then she got bit and became an entire different person. But she was never totally different. He still saw her the same but what changed was his perception of seeing her. Then Derek came, and he really was jealous of him flirting with Molly. That was really the proverbial nail on the coffin for him. He knew he wanted her and no one else was going to take her away from him now.
But things were different now. He finally is ready to accept Molly in his life. To man who was never interested in romantic entanglements, it surprised him that he was actually happy to have her in his life, with all her blushing and lupine afflictions.
His musings are interrupted when he hears footsteps coming up the stairs. He stops pacing and opens the door. Yes, he was right, the entire Beacon Hills posse is here.
The three of them stroll in and Sherlock resists an urge to do an eye-roll. Derek speaks up, "So tell me how she behaved when she ran off."
Sherlock says, "At first she said she heard a roar which I did not hear and then she just took off without any explanation. She looked as if she was under a trance or something."
"Like Scott," Stiles mutters.
"What?" Sherlock asks.
Jackson says, "Molly's Alpha called her. The one who bit her."
Derek crosses his arms on his chest, "But we don't know who that is."
Sherlock rubs his chin, "The pieces are falling into place. By now, I am certain I could say who that is."
"Who?" Stiles asks.
"You!" Molly exclaims.
Augustus Lowndes saunters up to her. Molly backs away a little. She says, "You…"
"Yes yes I bit you. I did not recognize you when I first met you but then I realised, ahh it was the lovely young woman who I had bit that day."
The gears in Molly's mind starts moving. If he bit her…"You killed Igor!"
"Yes, I did." He gives her a smug grin.
"But why? He was your father!"
"I know."
Molly gets surprised. "But…Vlad told me you did not know that Igor was your father."
"Ah yes Vlad. Little loyal Vlad. Always so faithful to that zealot I was unfortunately related to. I don't blame Vlad. He got to know that recently, I suspect when he took that trip to Belarus. That is where my mother met that brute."
Molly backs away a little more. He continues, "You know why I killed him?"
"Daddy issues?"
He laughs at her attempt at joking, "Yes and you know, I did not know I was his son either. You see, I was a bastard child. Igor Jablonski raped my mother and later, much later, killed her."
Sherlock did not want to, but he knew the only person who could help him is his insufferable older brother, Mycrorft Holmes. After he had stunned Derek, Jackson and Stiles with his deduction, he had channeled his energy in finding Molly. If he is right, she is not safe.
Now they are at Mycroft's office, waiting for Anthea, Mycroft's secretary, to return with the necessary information.
Mycroft Holmes sweeps a look over the three Americans. The older, darker one named Derek Hales is scowling; the younger, cropped hair teenager named Jackson Whittemore is biting his nails and shifting too much; and the thinner one named Stiles Stilinski (is that even a real name?) is standing cross-armed and his eyes are taking in the room, as if memorising every nook and cranny. According to surveillance reports, these three have been regular visitors to 221B Baker Street for the past few days. Also Dr. Molly Hooper, who has been staying overnight. He reminds himself to ask his little brother about that later.
"Can I ask why?" Mycroft asks.
"No you cannot. It is for a case," Sherlock replies with annoyance dripping from his voice.
"And these your clients?"
"Yeah yeah we are," Stiles replies. Sherlock turns around from his seat and scowls at Stiles. Stiles mouths a "sorry".
Finally, Anthea returns and hands Mycroft the file, but before he could grab it, Sherlock snatches it. He tucks it under his arm and as Mycroft scowls at him, he throws a grin at him and says, "Thank you, dear brother. Laters!"
He walks out, gesturing the others to follow him. They do so soundlessly. Sherlock walks a bit away from Mycroft's office. They find a bench and sit down. Sherlock hands Stiles half of the documents and he starts reading the other half.
Derek and Jackson decide to keep watch, so no one disturbs them. After a while, Stiles says, "Woah. I think I know why Augustus killed his Igor."
"And I know where they might be," Sherlock says.