Author: Firebird Holmes PM
SHERLOLLY ALERT! just my take on what should happen in season 3. with a little smut in the later chapters ofc. . This starts from the scene in the morgue where sherlock asks her for help! T rating earlier section, M rating later chapters! warning, molly gets kidnapped, molliarty.Rated: Fiction M - English - Hurt/Comfort/Romance - Sherlock H. & Molly Hooper - Chapters: 7 - Words: 8,063 - Reviews: 41 - Favs: 18 - Follows: 68 - Updated: 01-27-13 - Published: 12-02-12 - id: 8757425
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Ok peeps I hope you have enjoyed this far! I will try to post as fast as I can, but things are abit crazy with my final assignments coming up! Meanwhile enjoy, and yes yes sherlolly is coming sooooon!
Molly was out. Meeting John with her friend Mary. She thought he didn't know. Silly Molly. Did she think he did not notice her worried frowns, the way her teeth worried her lower lips, her packing of chocolate and tea for the weekly trips she made to 221b Baker Street? Lately though her anxiety seemed to have reduced. Perhaps it was due to the budding romance between Mary Morstan and John.
He returned his attention to the Derren Brown special on Channel 4. The man was not bad, not bad for an ordinary person anyway. He seemed slightly more intelligent than the usual homo sapiens that one might meet on the road. Sometimes he really wondered just how people got on with their lives with such tiny little brains. Life must be much simpler.
Sherlock generally refrained from answering the door on account of him supposedly being dead and all, but the insistent ringing annoyed him. He swept up the wig from the red carpet, planted it on his head, and proceeded to answer the door.
A postman stood on the cheery welcome mat in front of molly's door. Young. Barely 20. Aged by the use of narcotics, definitely not his only job judging by the rough calluses on his hands. Dockworker. And dishwasher it seemed. Lack of sleep from working multiple jobs evidenced by deep dark circles under the eyes. Ergo poor. Ergo in debt. Clothes standard issue royal postal service uniform, brand new, yet to be washed, still starched causing abrasions on his neck, ergo he had just started working. First day; judging by the nervous tic in the neck. Dyed hair: brown roots showing in blond hair. Flat foot. Old leather shoes, expensive, but the make is old, so a hand-me-down. Smoker. Heavy smoker. Nicotine stains on front two fingers and darkened lips.
All this in 3 seconds from the time that he had opened the door; not bad, he told himself. At least his mind was not deteriorating in the absence of cases. His mouth kicked up in his trademark sardonic half smile. 'Yes?' He asked rather brusquely.
'I..er..have a package for...let's see.. Erm.. Oh yea S holmes!'
Sherlock froze. However the postman did not give any indication of recognizing Sherlock. Merely the messenger boy then.
'Erm sir? You have to sign for it. It bein' a special delivery and all.'
'Yes alright' Sherlock's jaw was taut with tension. Impatiently he took the proffered pen and signed for it. Taking the slim brown envelope he shut the door in the postman's face. It looked nondescript. Too slim to hold anything of much danger. No writing on the top or the back; he walked to the mini laboratory he had set up in Molly's Kitchen. Using a letter opener he slit the top open and slid the contents onto the worktop. The contents of the package had him stepping back in a mixture of shock and fear. Inside the envelope, there had been a lock of Molly's burnished hair, placed into a Ziploc bag, perfectly so as to not disturb the natural curl of individual hairs. They had been packed almost lovingly. Sherlock would have known that the hair belonged to Molly perfectly because the unique shade matched the shade of the burnished wood of the violin she had bought for him. An unconscious association on her part he was sure. There was no message with it. But for a brilliant mind like Sherlock's he had absolutely no problem in deciphering the message. The only person who could know that Sherlock was still alive was Morriarty. Well him and Mycroft. And Mycroft had absolutely no reason to do this. It was a warning. It was also a hello.
Suddenly he knew with absolute certainty that his Molly was in danger. It also became imperative that he find her so that he knew that she was safe. He wanted her next to him, in his sight. Maybe then this debilitating worry would abate. He picked up his phone and dialled her number, too agitated to text. He picked up his coat and moustache ready to rush out of the door when she answered the call.
'Hello? Molly? Are you alright? Where are you?'
'Sherlock? I'm alright; I'm actually below the flat. I should be home soon. Why what happened? Is everything okay? Did you set fire to the kitchen again?'
'Nothing. It's nothing..'
'Ookay, I'l be up soon. If you are hungry you can order food first.'
'No its okay. I'll wait for you'
He hung up the phone, knit his fingers and settled down to wait in his usual chair. So the warning was not for today; but for the future. She was in danger. His mind could not deal with the ramifications of what kind of danger that she was in, and what could happen. Now the dilemma, should he tell her? Or shouldn't he?
o.o scary. Please review! Should he tell Molly?