"It's Carthy. You've got to help me."

"W..What?" It took a moment to sink in.

"It's..."

"You bastard." Molly gasped brokenly, gripping the phone with both hands. "You bloody bastard..."

James, concerned, stepped towards her, a hand outstretched to take the phone but Molly pulled back and held it closer to her ear as she heard the voice of her mentor's killer.

It was smooth, clear and harmonious...So beautiful...

It burned her eardrums like chalk on a blackboard.

How dare he.

Carthy pleaded with that sweet voice. "Help me..."

"Shut up!" She cried. "You shut the fuck up! You don't get to talk! You killed doctor Paten, the kindest, wisest man I ever knew. You shut the fuck up!" Tears fell unheeded from her cheeks.

"Please. They're going to kill me. Please."

You deserve it.

"Why are you calling me?" She muttered through gritted teeth.

"I need Sherlock to help me. Please, you're my last hope."

Molly looked at the consulting detective.

He stood motionless and unreadable, watching her silently from next to the bed.

"Why didn't you call him? Why call me?" She asked, her eyes locked with his.

"He hung up. Please, please help me."

Sherlock was making no attempt to take the phone. He simply held his position and her gaze, quietly waiting.

The choice was hers to make, she understood that now.

"Please, I don't have much time! I have to hang up soon or they'll find me..."

Say no.

Tell him to go to hell.

Tell him he deserves to die.

Say no!

God, how she wanted to hang up on him.

You're better than that. A old voice seeped into her mind, one she really wished she couldn't hear right now...One she couldn't ignore.

Her face contorted in pain, her eyes tightly shut as she pulled away from the phone and offered it to the consulting detective, the action tearing at her as if a part of her soul were being ripped out.

Sherlock instantly took the mobile from her unresisting fingers.

"I'm here." He stated coldly.

"Mr. Holmes, I..."

"Shut up. I'm listening."

In less than one minute, the call would be traced and it would be too late. There was a chance the call was being heard by someone else, so if Carthy gave any directions to his whereabouts, he would probably be killed before the consulting detective could reach him.

Carthy was not a stupid man, he waited silently as Sherlock focused on the sounds he could hear from wherever the fugitive was hiding.

Everyone in the room waited in complete silence, each tense second dragging on in heavy anticipation.

Thirty-nine agonising ticks of the clock.

No more time.

"Stay there, we'll come for you." Sherlock said before hanging up.

Michael turned off the phone with a shaky hand.

He had to get rid of it now, or they would find him... Taking a deep breath he mustered the courage to step out of his hiding place to reach a bus stop. For an agonising five minutes he had to wait.

"Signorina, sta bene? Serve aiuto?" Carthy looked up in alarm.

A middle-aged man with graying hair and a blue suit stood before her, holding his white husky on a leash. While walking his dog he noticed what he thought to be a beautiful girl huddled on a bench, wearing an oversized hoodie that she used to cover her face. In a quiet, soft voice he had asked her if she was ok and if she needed help, his head cocked to the side in very much the same style as his canine companion. He looked like a good man...And Carthy had somewhat lost his appetite for death.

"Yes, thank you." The assassin answered in Italian. "I just had a fight with my boyfriend. I'll be fine, thank you."

The gentleman nodded and quietly walked away.

A few minutes later, the bus arrived, thankfully almost deserted. Carthy waited for the doors to open before dropping the phone in a seat and quickly jumping off again, as if realising it was the wrong bus.

With a sigh of relief he watched it drive off and quickly returned to his hiding spot.

The rising sun threatened his cover, so the assassin slid deeper into the shadows like a snake seeking shelter.

There, in the darkness, he waited for Sherlock Holmes to save him.

The consulting detective held Molly's phone in his hand for a moment before pulling out his own from his pocket and dropping them both on the white hospital bed.

"Leave your phones here." He added, turning to the door. "No." He stated simply as the ambassador stepped forward.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" James asked quietly. "I understand if you do not wish for any of the scorta to accompany you, particularly after Stefano's infiltration, but neither you nor John carry any weapons. You are vulnerable in this country, let me help you."

"Vostra Eccellenza!" Roberto's eyes widened in alarm, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline; the facial expression was rather comical when matched with his imposing frame."Please, I cannot allow you to go alone!"

"You would just be a burden." Sherlock stated flatly. "Even if this Golem let you go. Carthy might try to kill you in a vain attempt to win back the good graces of his employers. I don't particularly care if you live or die, but considering the possible influence Carthy's 'friends' enjoy in Italy, I would rather not risk having John and myself accused of your murder. " Sherlock walked to the door and put his hand on the handle. "Also, I only work with people I trust." He added as an afterthought.

James took a step back, accepting the logic despite his frustration. He turned to Molly and started in surprise to see her following the consulting detective. "Molly, what do you think you are doing?" He cried. Sherlock paused, door ajar, when he heard the alarm in the ambassador's voice.

"I have something to finish, James." She muttered softly. She would have bitten her lip if it were not too swollen.

"You've had a concussion." Sherlock said quietly, facing the door.

"You were shot. That didn't keep you in a hospital. Anyway, I'm fine, now." She smiled.

So did he.

"Molly, please, it's dangerous..." The ambassador began to protest earnestly.

John watched his friend, but said nothing.

Sherlock's grip on the door handle tightened, his knuckles turning white. He closed his eyes and his jaw clenched. Shaking his head ever so slightly, he let go.

"I'm sure you know by now, Mr. Ambassador." Sherlock sighed casually as he turned around to face the room, his eyes falling on the young pathologist, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Never try to stop Molly Hooper."

As he spoke, the consulting detective proffered his hand.

The pathologist's eyes widened, then turned as she looked at James. The ambassador opened his mouth to speak, but then his gaze softened as he recognised a losing battle. "Just be careful." He muttered quietly.

Molly's smile widened. Tentatively, she placed her hand in Sherlock's. His fingers curled around hers in a gentle but firm grip as he turned back to the door.

John smiled.

Then they were gone.

.

.

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Author's note:

I'm on holiday! Yay! Next chapter is already in the works.

Thank you for reading my fic.

Warm thanks to ginnyweasleyrules, NiceNipps, Anon, OpalSkyLoveDivine, Guest, mrspencil, Reina434, Bucky5, likingthistoomuch, 16magnolias, Rocking the Redhead, SammyKatz and SaraBahama for the reviews!