Long time no see. I've been busy. But finally I've managed to write the next chapter of "The past catching up". I am planning on finishing this story before the summer is over. Well, We'll see about that. But here it is, a new chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's characters. But I do own my own. XD

Chapter 14 – The escape

Feeling like she was drowning, Molly stood up from the chair. Her hands were shaking. Anyone could see that. Sherlock definitely could. But he wasn't sure if it was because she was genuinly afraid or because she knew that he knew that she was lying to him.

"I have a headache." She said. "I'm going to lay down for a moment." She could barely get the words out without her voice cracking.

She quickly made her way to Sherlocks bedroom and closed the door. Something like a panic attack was making its way up her chest. Her heart was pounding way too fast and hard. She didn't have time for panic attacks. "I've been Molly Hooper way too long." She thought. "I've gotten too comfortable and now someone has found me." She needed to find out who so she could end it, before Sherlock could do anything. Before he would find out everything.

She sat down on Sherlock's bed. What was she going to do? She needed to know who was doing all this. First the death of Tucker McCreary. She knew him all too well. He was an undercover assignment once. And then there was the middle eastern man with the scar running down from his right ear to his collar-bone. She knew him to. Another assignment she thought she had left behind. But they were breathing last time she saw them. Someone was making a great effort to get her attention. And whoever it was, was succeeding. Then there were the pictures that Sherlock had shown her. He must have gotten them from Mycroft. Who else would have that kind of connections? This lead her to another question: did Mycroft know her secret? She had gone to massive lenghts to make sure that nobody had anything on her. The woman she used to be didn't exist. She had deleted every file that contained anything she had ever done before she became Molly Hooper. She had done a thorough job. It was what she was trained for. It was the last perfect erasing she had done.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. The door opened and Sherlock came in. She didn't even have to guess what he was thinking. He was obviously agitated. The interrogation wasn't over. She knew he wasn't going to stop asking questions and getting the answers he wanted. Molly rose up from her sitting position on the bed. Sherlock took two steps forward and was now standing a mere inch from her. She could feel the warmth of his body beam on to her.

"There is someone out to get you. Why? What has changed these past few days? Why is someone sending you messages in form of dead bodies and notes? Why would anyone be interested in plain little Molly Hooper? Why do you have a gun? You're against violence. And why are you occupying every inch of my mind?"

Sherlock was blurting out question after question and Molly wasn't sure he was waiting for any answers from her. If he was, he would have to wait forever, because she wasn't going to give him any. And even if she was considering giving him the answers (which she definitely wasn't) she was way too occupied trying to breahte normally. Why the hell did he have to stand so close? And why the hell did he have to have this effect on her? What was he trying to gain by just standing there making her feel his heat?

"If you're trying to get me to give you answers, this is the wrong way."

She was a complete idiot. Now she had stepped in it. She needed to get herself out of this mess she created for herself. Why was it so hard to concentrate with him standing so close? She knew why, but she needed to get out of it before she ruined herself. And before he ruined her.

"Not that I have any answers for you." She said quickly. Too quickly. Was the cat out of the bag now? She was clinging to the hope that it wasn't. And why would anyone put an adorable cat in a bag in the first place? She hated that figure of speech.

"I am shocked by all this, Sherlock."

For the first time in days, she didn't lie. She was shocked. But the difference between her old self and Molly Hooper was that her old self would find a way out of it quickly without doubt or hesitation. Now there were obstacles. People she cared about. People that made her re-think every move she was about to make.

"I'm trying to protect you." He whispered. He wasn't agitated anymore. His eyes softened and for a second he looked worried.

"I know." Molly said. She wanted to tell him that she was trying to protect him to but that would only give him more questions he would want answers to.

Sherlock stood there, silently taking in every inch of her face to be stored in his mind palace. Then he suddenly turned away and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Molly didn't realize she had held her breath. She let a sigh escape from her lips and sat down on the bed once again. She needed to leave 221B Baker Street immediately. And just her luck, there was a window in Sherlocks room. She opened it and looked down. Sherlocks flat was on the second floor but it wasn't a long drop. She could climb out without hurting herself. Said and done, with a last glance on the bedroom door she climbed out the window and successfully climbed down. Her plan of protecting Sherlock from all this was still in play. She just had to protect him from a distance.

How angry do you think Sherlock will be when he realizes that Molly has escaped? XD