THE WAR INSIDE MY HEAD
So, here's part two. Not long at all. All the chapters are different lengths so don't worry, I'll probably post another chapter soon enough. I'm glad people are liking this so far. I know Alicia and myself are very excited to be sending this out for everyone to read. Thank you to those who have followed and the review we got. It's nice. Anyway enjoy. - day
2.
Molly stood there for a moment in a daze trying to gather what had just happened in her mind. Did it really happen? Or was this one of those dreams where in a few seconds she would wake up? One pinch to her arm told her that this was all very real. Sherlock was gone again and she had to stop herself from running towards the window to see if she could see him at all. She imagined she wouldn't. He was a quick one. She sighed and turned back to the stove, turning on her kettle for her tea. Tea for one, she thought.
Sherlock leaped from her roof to another, his fingers furiously typing the rest of the mission to Mycroft. He could not waste time hunting the minors in the web anymore. He needed to find Moran before he knows about her. He needed to get back to Molly in the shortest time possible. Mycroft could take care of the rest, he owed him that much. He needed to keep Molly safe from danger. He paused for a millisecond at the thought of Molly when a bullet flew past before his eyes, missing him only by an inch.
He shoved his phone in his pocket and jumped down from the rooftop he was leaning off of onto a patio balcony. He looked around for a moment, waiting to see if any more gunfire would be coming his way. Most importantly if he could see anyone around that could see him. It was still rather dark out. He used his hands to lift him over the three story high metal framing of the patio and down onto the ground. He fell on a heap of trash bags. Rolling over, he felt his phone vibrate in his trouser pockets. He ignored it for the moment; he needed to get out of dodge.
Sherlock's first instinct was to hide, find somewhere safe and avoid open fire. He began running, not knowing exactly where to go. He knew someone was still keeping a close watch on him, that bullet only missed him because he stopped moving for a split second. The second was less likely to fire, for the streets were still busy and the shooting in public would only attract attention to the sniper. "The sniper", he thought, "Moran."
But before he knew it he was standing before Molly's apartment. Sherlock looked up at the windows looking for the one he knew was hers. His eyes scanning for it at a rapid pace. The sixth floor and the fourth window from the right. When he found it and saw the light on a small sigh left his mouth. That was good, he thought. It didn't mean he wouldn't go check just to be sure. He had to be thorough or he'd miss something. There was no time for mistakes.
Molly had had her tea and moved from the living room towards her small bedroom. She was huddled under blankets with a thin book in her hand. She was reading it sluggishly, her will to stay awake now lessened without the excitement or inner turmoil that quaked her with Sherlock Holmes around. He had kissed her again. On the forehead, that was much more intimate than a simple peck on the cheek (like Christmas). She stopped herself from thinking about that. Her book falling from her hands as she turned over and shut her eyes, hoping to fall asleep. However, there was a bit of interruption. Her door was opened within a flash and she let out a gasp.