A/N: Guess what! It's 2022 and I've updated this!

This was a little confusing, but hopefully I've cleaned it up somewhat, this story was inspired by Bruno Mars "Grenade". Have an angelic Molly and enjoy.

I'd Catch a Grenade For You

There were a few things that Molly did not understand about the universe. Sure, she was an angel so in theory she understood more than the average mortal but there were still uncertainties.

But there was one thing she was most definitely sure of; she was put on this earth to protect Sherlock Holmes.

It was why, Dr Molly Hooper, earthbound angel, was stood in Kabul watching Sherlock creep around the side of a building before he slipped inside the unguarded door.

Knowing that women were barred from the building Sherlock had entered, Molly adjusted her veil and sat on a small stool. She had a bag of fabric scraps in front of her, and to any nosy stranger she was but a poor woman trying to earn a living.

She almost missed Sherlock exiting; he had changed his garb into a sinister black outfit, but it was Molly's angel sense that made her realise that her charge was now striding purposefully across the square. She shadowed him for a long time as they moved between two villages, and she had to duck behind a wall when they finally reached a circle of cars.

Molly glanced around and frowned; they were outside of the nearest village which was held by hostile hands, and she peered closer at the gathering of shouting men. The circle of cars had their headlights pointed inwards on a small kneeling figure. Molly chewed her lip, and settled back on her haunches behind the wall. She would have to go full angelic to save both Sherlock and the stranger and she was reluctant to do so in such a extreme situation.

Molly glanced back over as the shouting reached a peak and almost gave herself away, as Sherlock raised a vicious looking sword over the defenceless woman still kneeling. She was startled when the detective turned and swung it straight into the man directly behind him. Molly groaned as Sherlock's action set about a flurry of noises; only he would calculate that one traditional sword would beat four men with semi-automatic weapons and grenades.

Molly moved without thinking as the missile was hurled at Sherlock escaping in one of the cars. Her body caught the device, and everyone froze at the intervention. In those agonisingly slow seconds, Sherlock caught sight of the chestnut hair slipping free from her veil. Her divine intervention pushed Sherlock into the car and shoved it back out of the range of the blast.

She heard nothing but the slight vibration as the grenade went off.

~M.H~

Taking a deep breath, Molly felt the ache in her ribs but opened her eyes to see her sterile lab and Sherlock staring expectantly at her.

"Sorry Sherlock, what did you say?" She shook her head to stop her ears ringing. He tutted, loud enough for John who was stood on the other side to hear. The other man glared at his best friend.

"I said I like the lipstick you were wearing earlier. Do you fancy a coffee?"

She felt her heart flutter. When she had been given her angelic orders, she had been told her paradise would come if she Saved Sherlock.

"Err sure?" She squeaked.

"Great, just a dash of milk, no sugar." He turned back to his microscope ignoring John's huff of exasperation and Molly's fallen face