So sorry to keep you all waiting for this update. That last one was a bit cliffy, wasn't it? But I had to make sure chapter 14 was ready before I went forward with this one. Good news, 14 is ready and there will be one more after that. Thank you all so, so much for your support.
Huge thanks to MizJoely for her beta reading. She's a dream.
Warnings: There's creepiness (because Ford's creepy) and cannon typical violence.
I own nothing. Enjoy. ~Lil~
"I-I d-don't know you," she said trying to keep her voice controlled.
His smile brightened. Though that might not have been the right word for it since it sickened her.
"What? You don't recognize me?" Closing the distance and stepping into her personal space he said, "No familial resemblance at all?" He turned his head one way, then the other. "I do look more like Myke than Locky but, surely..."
"Please..."
"Please what?" he interrupted. "Please don't hurt you?" He furrowed his brow. "You've heard the stories then."
"Please leave Sherlock alone," Molly begged.
"Oh... and the perfect woman too. His luck continues." He pulled off the cap and shook free his dark, slightly graying, curls. "I've been watching you, Dr. Hooper. You are completely devoted to my baby brother." His eyes traveled up her body, causing Molly to cringe. "And you have an amazing body, by the way. But we Holmes do have impeccable taste, if nothing else."
Molly sucked in a breath.
"Yeah, sorry about that. Like I said, I've been watching." He winked.
"He searches the flat every time we come back from..."
Sherrinford started laughing. "No, you misunderstand. I've been watching from the building across the street. I only caught one performance. The one in the sitting room. But what a lovely show."
Tears were gathering in Molly's eyes and she tried to will herself not to cry, swallowing hard. "S-so what now?"
He took a gun out of his pocket and placed it on the floor about four feet in front of her. Then he took out a medium sized knife. "Straight to the point, I knew I liked you. I wasn't very pleased to find out that Cummings went too far with his assignment. I told him to rough you up, get Sherlock's attention. Sorry that he scared you."
He actually looked contrite for a moment. Then he drew a sharp breath and clapped his hands together. "Okay, Sherlock will be here soon. So, let's get in place, shall we?" He grabbed Molly and turned her, holding her with her back against his chest and the blade of the knife close to her neck. "Now we wait for Locky. Oh Molly, this is where the fun starts." He hummed a happy tune.
Less than a minute passed before Sherlock stormed into the room. For a couple of seconds she could see the group of agents who had followed him. When he saw her and his brother Sherlock motioned for them to wait outside and let the door shut. Then he waited. He looked at her, his eyes betraying him for a split second. She saw how scared he was, how sad. It broke her heart. It was gone as quick as it came.
"Hi Locky. How ya been?" Sherrinford asked.
"Let her go Ford."
"I don't think I will." He tightened his hold. "And it's been a while, so I guess I have to remind you that I go by Alex now."
"Alex, Molly has nothing to do with this. Please leave her alone."
"You know, it's funny that you'd phrase it like that. She asked the same for you. Ahh, young love. It's really beautiful."
"How do I end this?" Sherlock asked.
"It's very easy. Pick up the gun."
Molly struggled against Ford's hold. She was terrified he was going to make Sherlock kill himself in front of her. "Please, don't!" she begged.
"Oh, calm down, Dr. Hooper. I'm not going to make Locky pull a Reichenbach. I'm a bit more original than that. No, my darling little brother's going to do me a favour. Pick up the gun. Now!"
Sherlock slowly bent down and picked up the hand gun, never taking his eyes off of his brother. "Now what?" he asked.
Sherrinford re-positioned Molly so that most of her body was covering his. "Now, you're going to shoot me in the head. If you don't, I'll just kill your girl here."
Sherlock's eyes widened. The gun remained at his side.
"It's a small favour, you know." She felt Sherrinford take a deep breath. "My mind... it never stops. Does... does yours, Sherlock? Does your mind ever just... stop? I need to die. But you need to be punished."
Sherlock was actually trembling. Molly needed him to be completely detached- completely him right now and he was trembling. There was no choice, of course; if he had to kill his own brother to save Molly, he would.
But there had to be another way, there was always a way.
If he killed Sherrinford there was a good chance, even with – or especially with - a dozen agents standing outside the door, that he'd be guilty of murder... again. This was Ford's punishment. He clearly knew all about the Magnuessen case via the agent on his payroll and he knew that Sherlock was as far up against it as he possibly could be. Not to mention he would have to do this in front of Molly. Even if, by some miracle he managed to get out of this with no legal repercussions, she'd never forgive him. Knowing he'd killed someone was quite different than actually watching him do it in front of her. Of course if he was sent on his mission after all, their last moments together would consist of her watching him blow his brother's brains out. How would she ever get over that, knowing the choice he'd had to make for her? Sherlock looked into his brother's eyes; they were gleeful. Ford knew that he'd won.
Sherlock's mind raced trying to find a solution that didn't end in a death. His mind palace was suddenly empty. Redbeard was gone. Molly was gone. He would have even welcomed Anderson at that moment. But no, nothing.
"Locky. Someone dies today. Who will it be?" Ford asked. "Come on, you did it for John. Does that mean Molly's not as important to you? Cummings was there, you know? I got a full report. I know what you can do when backed into a corner. So make the decision, Locky. Is she worth it? You've done it before. You can't be as pure and as sane as I always imagined."
Sherlock looked at Molly- at her face, tears were pouring down her cheeks. The look in her eyes was too painful to watch. He looked away; down to the spot on her neck where the knife was pressed against her skin. Skin he'd tasted just a few short hours before.
"Even I've never actually killed anyone, Locky. You're already pretty fucked up, you know. All it'll take is a little push." He dragged out the 'sh'.
His brother was right. He'd done this before. The choice was clear.
"I'm, ah, afraid I'll h-hit Molly," Sherlock said, trying to buy a little time, what for, he didn't quite know. "I need a clean h... head shot." Oh God, I'm going to kill my brother, he thought as the tremor in his hand increased.
"Aim well," Ford said through clenched teeth.
"Molly, move your head to the left," Sherlock commanded.
"No!"
"Damnit Molly, move."
"Please, Sherlock don't. Oh my God, don't do this!" she begged.
"I have to," he spit back. "Can't you see? Now move your head, Molly!"
"I'm sorry," she whispered then tucked her head down.
Sherlock raised the gun and he saw the moment that Molly felt Ford's body relax. Had he more time to think about it he would have marveled at the fact that his brother was so at ease with his own death. She grabbed Ford's hand and pulled it up to her mouth, biting down hard.
Ford screamed and dropped the knife. It fell near Molly's foot and she kicked it to Sherlock then jerked out of his brother's hold and ran to him.
With the gun still trained on Ford, Sherlock opened the door and pushed Molly out. He was following close behind her when he heard his name and stopped, though he didn't turn around.
"Look Locky. I have a toy."
He never even looked back just grabbed Molly and started screaming for everyone to run as the agents fled the immediate area. Molly was in front of him when the blast went off, knocking him on top of her, covering his back in detritus.
Miraculously, everyone was okay. Well, everyone was alive at least. Ford's bomb was quite small, really. If Sherlock and Molly had been in the room, they'd have surely died. But the blast was fairly contained. Several of the agents had injuries, some minor, some not so minor. One agent, by the name of Sanders, lost an arm. Another, Davidson, who had been clearing the floor below, was crushed by falling debris. Whether or not he'd walk again, was still unknown.
Molly was banged up, as was Sherlock. They sat in a private room talking to Mycroft and Lestrade. Sherlock had refused medical treatment. He was still wearing his Belstaff, although it looked liked it would need to be replaced. He insisted that Molly be seen to. She had scratches on her forehead and cheek and her sprained wrist was sore again. Otherwise she was fine and she kept telling everyone that, though no one listened.
She'd already given her statement and now she sat next to Sherlock as he replayed the events leading up to the explosion in a dispassionate monotone. He didn't look at his brother as he explained what Ford had asked of him. He didn't look at his friend, the DI, either. Molly wished more than anything for him to look at her, but he seemed focused on nothing at all.
After they'd both given their statements, Greg politely excused himself and Mycroft turned to Sherlock. "I'm, ah, so sorry, Sherlock."
Molly didn't think she was imagining some dewiness in the older man's eyes.
"I should have... protected you better," Mycroft said with a break in his voice.
Sherlock finally turned his head toward his brother. He looked at him for a long moment, though he didn't respond. Instead he turned to Molly and said, "I'm going to meet my Goddaughter." Then he left without another word.
As she rose to follow Mycroft stopped her. "Molly, wait."
She took a steadying breath and sat back down. If she was getting a Mycroft Holmes speech, after all the trauma of the day, she needed to be seated.
The older man situated himself squarely in front of her. "His next move... I can predict it."
"You think he'll go get high?"
"Oh, that's a possibility. That's always a possibility with Sherlock and you need to always remember that. But no. I was talking about something else. He'll push you away, Molly. This has all been too intense for him. Nearly losing you..." He paused. "Well, he'll want to nip it in the bud, so to speak. Attempt to protect you by putting distance between the two of you." Something changed as he walked closer, the look on his face. Molly watched as the ice melted. "You can't allow him to do this, Molly. You must hold on. Losing you now would be his undoing, even if it was by his own hand." He smiled, a small sad smile. "I've never been able to save him, you see. Not from Ford's insanity, not from Victor's drugs, not from Moriarty's games and especially not from himself. But you, Miss Hooper, you give him hope. And in the end, hope is what saves us all."
Then he turned and walked out of the room.
Okay... two more to go. Once I have 15 roughed out I'll post 14. Please review. I love hearing from you all. It really means the world to me. Thank you for reading. ~Lil~