Author: avatardsherlockian PM
Molly Hooper has helped Sherlock Holmes fake his death and let him stay in her flat until he can clear his name and kill Moriarty's men. Molly gets in trouble and Sherlock needs to rescue her. Post Reichenbach. Sherlolly and later John/Mary.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Hurt/Comfort - Sherlock H. & Molly Hooper - Chapters: 50 - Words: 99,700 - Reviews: 361 - Favs: 65 - Follows: 109 - Updated: 04-25-13 - Published: 07-11-12 - id: 8308450
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Hello! My name is Melanie! I wrote this story because I ship Sherlolly 100%! Okay. This is the first time I have ever written a story before like ever except for school assignments so bear with me! Thanks goes out to my sister, Jess, who is writing her own book and gave me tips and critique. :) Please write a review and enjoy!
I was going home after a long shift at Bart's. I grasped the door handle and opened it slightly, only to be letting it go a second later when I heard a deep and familiar voice.
"You're wrong you know," the man said.
I squeaked and turned on my heels to find Sherlock Holmes, the man of my dreams, standing far away. I could tell it was him the moment I saw him, due to his signature trench coat and curls. Oh how I loved those curls. Stay focused, Molly Hooper.
He continued. "You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you."
Wait what did he just say? I count to him? So many amazing things just came out of those amazing lips of his. Oh, great. The butterflies again. I think I'm going to call it the Sherlock Syndrome now. Yeah. That's what I have. The Sherlock Syndrome. An incurable disease.
He turned his head to me, "But you were right. I'm not okay."
"Tell me what's wrong," I said with worry in my eyes.
He stood up and spoke, "Molly," he paused and then said, "I think I'm going to die."
I was dead in my tracks. What? He's going to die? Why? So much worry and panic flew through my mind and I could hardly process this. Sherlock fucking Holmes is not going to really die. He's just joking, I know it. He wouldn't allow himself to die. He would find a way to fight off the Grim Reaper! That's it. He's joking. Period.
After a few seconds I finally cleared my head, "What do you need?"
He moved closer every time he spoke, "If I wasn't everything you think I am, everything that I think I am, would you still want to help me?"
I knew what my answer was. I didn't even think or tell myself to say it but I did. I said almost immediately, "What do you need?"
With two more steps he concluded what I already knew he was going to say, "You."
I knew what he was asking me to do. He wants me to help him fake his death. I walked up to him one more step and I knew we were less than a foot from each other. Why did I do that? I was usually incredibly uncomfortable and shy in front of Sherlock when he was three feet away. Why am I so calm when I'm so close to him? When I can feel his warm breath on my face? I decided not to question my new found confidence in that one moment and let his breath warm my entire body. I knew now that I was blushing. I could get lost in that moment, but I had to focus. Stop drooling over him and help Sherlock fake his death. Wait. What did I just say? Oh, whatever! He had been staring at me the entire time. He wasn't deducing, but looking. I looked up into his eyes. Are those tears? Is Sherlock Holmes crying? I had never seen him like this. He had never taken his eyes off of me the entire time. There it came again. The Sherlock Syndrome.
I wasn't entirely confident in my conclusion so to clarify what he was asking me to do I asked, "Just to be clear, you want me to help you fake your death, right?"
"Yes, Molly. Impressive deduction. Will you help me?"
"Yes. Of course, Sherlock."
Sherlock gave me a little smile that showed his gratitude, but one that says "I'd love to stand here and talk about boys all day, but we really need to get down to business." There was a silent pause that felt like it went on for ages. I felt awkward again and stepped to the side and walked briskly back to the mortuary with Sherlock right behind me.
I decided to forget about this because it clearly made her uncomfortable and made me uncomfortable as well.
I was quite impressed with Molly's deduction. How did she figure it out? I know it isn't that hard to find out, but that's what I would think if I was in her shoes. It would be easy for me to figure out, but not for an ordinary person. Molly was smarter than I gave her credit for.
Tears had welled up in my eyes. I told myself not to let them fall and I swallowed back the tears. I hoped she didn't see them. I knew she did though. I had never cried in front of anyone, not even John. The thought of John made me sad. I'm not going to be able to see him until I get rid of Moriarty's men and clear my name. With the essence of John in my head, I quickly wiped away at my eyes and turned with one swift movement like a soldier and followed Molly back into the mortuary.
Okay there it was. Thoughts? I probably rewrote this chapter like 3 times! Please review! ^_^