Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter, nor Sherlock, nor Mulan belong to me.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was tense, with her family constantly giving each other worried looks yet not speaking. Unable to bear the stress any longer, Molly ran out to the garden. She sat on the rock where she and her father had talked earlier and covered her face with her hands.

"Why? " her mind screamed."Why should Father have to go? Between the four regions, there should be more than enough young men to fight for the king."

Molly heard a sob. Looking up, she saw a light coming from the window where she heard the noise.

"O John!" There was no mistaking her mother's voice, usually calm and confident, now broken and frightened.

"There, there Mary. I'll be fine. After all, this is not the first time I've been in service."

"That was a long time ago! You're not as young as you once were! And you've never fully recovered from your wounds. It was devastating, the day we lost Sherlock. I don't know what I'll do if I lose you too!"

The light and voices faded from the window as both her parents left the room.

Molly's heart broke for her mother. "If only I had been born a man. Then I could have gone in Father's place."

Her eyes widened. "Wait a minute. Maybe I can! I'm about the same height as Father. His uniform would probably fit me. And I know how to ride a horse, I could ride Hamish. If I cut my hair..." she shook her head at the absurdity. No, no it's too risky. If caught, I could be executed for deception. Besides, I'm not a fighter! "

Just then, her gaze fell upon the headstone. She recalled the story of Sherlock Holmes' bravery. Count Moriarty had threatened to have John and Mary killed, if Sherlock didn't jump to his death. So Sherlock did. But not without taking Moriarty with him. He sacrificed himself so that her father would be safe. THAT settled her decision.

"I too, will do whatever it takes to keep Father safe. Better my life than his. And Sherlock Holmes death will NOT be in vain."

She waited until she was certain everyone was in bed. Then she quietly returned to the house and snuck into her father's cabinet where he kept his chainmail, surcoat, and sword. She carried them to her room.

After placing the clothes and sword on her bed, she picked up the knife, that she had grabbed in the kitchen, and walked over to the large mirror in the corner. Closing her eyes, she slowly breathed in then out. "For you father," she thought. Opening her eyes with determination, she began cutting her hair just below the ears.

(Later..)

Molly studied her reflection in the large mirror. She saw a young knight in chainmail and a yellow and black surcoat, with the seal of Hufflepuff on the front. The sword was fastened to the side.

"I don't even recognize myself! Thank goodness for my plain features and small chest. It makes it easier to pass myself off as a man."

She carefully snuck out of the house, and went straight to the small stable, where her horse, Hamish, was kept. When Hamish saw Molly, he began stomping and neighing in panic.

"Shh, Hamish. Easy boy. Its only me."

After hearing Molly's soothing voice, the horse calmed down, and nuzzled her hand.

" That's a good sign. If Hamish didn't recognize me, then there's a chance that no one else will see through my disguise."

Molly saddled and mounted Hamish, then began riding toward the road. She paused and looked back at her home. She started to feel guilty for the sorrow her parents will feel when they discovered her gone. Perhaps she shouldn't go.

"No, I've come this far. I'm not giving up now!"

Facing the road again, she urged Hamish into a gallop and left the village.

(Later...)

"John! Mary!"

John shot up in his bed, awoken by Aunt Martha's cries. He grabbed his short staff and rushed into the hall, with Mary following close behind. He found Aunt Martha standing outside of Molly's room, the door opened.

"Aunt Martha, what's wrong?"

Aunt Martha turned to him, horror written all over her face.

"Molly's gone!"

"What?!" John looked in the room and saw brown hair on the floor around the mirror.

Fearing the worst, he hurried over to his cabinet and found it open with his sword and suit of armor gone.

"Molly, no," he managed to breath out.

Hands clutched his arm and shoulder. He turned and saw Mary by his side.

"John, you have to stop her," pleaded Mary. "She could be killed!"

John solomly shook his head." I can't Mary. If I expose her, she will most certainly be killed for deceiving the king's army."

Mary began weeping. John hugged her, then guided her to a chair. He squeezed her hand reassuringly before gesturing to Aunt Martha.

"Stay with her please. I need to step out for a moment."

Aunt Martha tearfully nodded, then knelt in front of Mary and began comforting her.

John walked out the door, and kept walking until he stood front of the headstone. He shifted, twitched and fidgeted. Then he spoke:

"You would've called me an idiot. Standing here talking to the dead. Or rather to a piece of stone." He chuckled, then sobered. "It's just that, well, I don't know what to do. You see, well my daughter, Molly, has taken my place in the king's army. Disguised herself as a man, wearing my armor, carrying my sword. Surprising I know, though not really, now that I think about it. She always was a selfless person. Putting other people's needs before her own."

He shifted some more, then continued:

"Do you remember our last adventure together? Of course you do. You're the Great Sherlock Holmes. I climbed to the top of that waterfall and found you, well, gone. Then I saw your smoking pipe. Under the pipe, you left a note. Explaining what was happening, what you were prepared to do. Do you remember what else you wrote? It was somthing you have never done. You made a vow. That you would always look after all three of us. Yes, you knew Mary was expecting even before she did."

John paused, rubbed his hand over his mouth as tears filled his eyes, then continued, "Please... look after my daughter. Bring her safely back home to us, to me."

He stood there for a moment, then turned and walked back to the house.

If he had stayed a little longer, he would have seen the words on the headstone begin to glow.

A/N: Whew! Real life really took up my time and energy for this chapter.

For the record, I do NOT think Molly is plain. That's just her inner thoughts.

A little nod to ACD's version of "The Fall."

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