This is it - the last chapter. I would like to thank all of my readers even if you have read this but not put in your favorites or commented. It's my first story and I am sure there were might have been problems that someone with more experienced writing might have picked up on. But I love to write and since picking up that ink pen back in January I have started so many other stories or even written down some ideas. So add me to your list of authors if you would like and I'll be back. Thank you.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock
Detective Camron's flat wasn't very big. With a bedroom and small kitchen, there was barely enough room for a couch and TV.
"Wow, and I thought David Hooper's fake flat was small." John said.
"Quite John, I need to go to my mind palace." Sherlock said as he stood still in the living room. Nothing in the flat appeared to show evidence of where one might keep a large supply of drugs or women for prostitution. Sherlock envisioned the flat in his head, looking for anything out of the ordinary.
Sherlock opened his eyes and ran out the front door. John could hear him banging on a neighbor's door.
"Yes?" A woman opened the door.
"Pardon me, but I wonder if I may, step inside for a moment to peek inside your premises." Sherlock said to the woman.
"Creep!" The woman slammed the door on Sherlock's face. John was standing in the door way of Detective Camron's flat watching as Sherlock crossed the way to the neighbor on the other side.
Sherlock knocked on the door just as he did the previous neighbor. This time a man opened the door. Not easily influenced as women, but he would do - Sherlock thought.
"Yeah?" The man asked, looking Sherlock up and down. He was wondering if Sherlock was a cop.
"Excuse me, but I am considering renting the flat next door as the previous tenant plans on moving out but first, I was wondering if I may, take a look around inside your premises. The walls next door seem a bit off."
"Sure pal." The neighbor said.
Sherlock stepped inside. The man kept a stack full of pornographic DVDs on this coffee table. By the looks of the covers, Sherlock assumed these were illegally made, with or without the women's consent and the man was profiting off the DVDs.
Ignoring those unpleasantries , Sherlock proceeded to study the walls. Just as he suspected, the dimensions between the two flats were different. Sherlock was positive that if he held possession of the building blueprints, they would read out otherwise.
Stalking back to Detective Camron's flat, Sherlock felt along the wall behind the flat screen TV. A clicking sound was made and Sherlock knew he had found what was hidden. The wall moved like a sliding door and there Sherlock discovered surveillance equipment, money and drugs. Turning on the televisions, Sherlocks eyes witnessed split screens of a warehouse. In one screen he saw Molly sitting in a room with other girls.
"Bloody hell!" John said from behind him.
"Call Mycroft." Sherlock said.
Molly had been sitting in the small office room for twelve hours. She was tired and hungry and there had been no other sign of David since he thrown her in here. Nor had there been any sign of Sherlock. David said he had been arrested. Could Sherlock still be held in capacity - unable to get to her? Molly rested her head back against her knees as she had done since sitting down to the floor. She was trying to hold onto hope but she was afraid.
The door swung open and two men walked in. "Time to go"
"Where are we going?" Molly asked as she stood up. The other women were already filing out the door. Molly's only answer was a heavy pull on her arm as she was yanked out of the room. She came face to face with David.
"Guess your boyfriend is smart." David said, "But we'll be long gone before he gets here."
"So he's coming?" Molly smiled despite being held prisoner. She knew what she had to do if she didn't want to be lost to Sherlock forever. She had to fight.
Molly made a fist and then punched her brother in the face. It wasn't a hard punch but it was enough to phase David as Molly ran in the opposite direction of the warehouse. Luckily the other two men were lining the other women up for two vans.
David ran after Molly. He cursed her for being such a bitch. Pulling out a gun, David quietly stepped around old crates and barrels to where he believed she had stopped to hide from him.
"Come on Molls, I was just kidding. I won't hurt you." David tried sounding like a sweet brother. But Molly knew better. She saw David through an opening as she hid behind two crates. Molly didn't feel safe there so she picked up running again. David watched as she ran up some steps to a partial second floor.
The second floor of the warehouse was grated flooring with a few rows of bridges that overlapped to where heavy equipment was once used. Workers would access their way to large machines but now Molly accessed her way in escape. She was however surprised to find David already standing in front of her.
"You really shouldn't run away if you don't know where you are going." David said.
"What were you going to do with me? Where were you sending me?" Molly asked.
"We have a good client in South America - it's who I owe a lot of money too anyway. And I still am sending you - you are still going."
"So what, I'm supposed to be a prostitute? I'm supposed to be some kind of slave and sleep with men I don't know?" Molly asked.
"Or women. Whoever prefers you." David said.
"You are sick!" Molly said backing away.
David held his gun up, "Move."
"No." Molly was determined to die.
David pushed to but she fought him off. Molly struggled with David until he dropped the gun. They both stopped and starred at each other knowing that one of them was going to have to reach for the gun.
With a loud crash sound the police broke through the warehouse. David risked a quick half second glance to see them coming in. Molly rushed for the gun. She pointed it at David.
"Move" She repeated her brother's words.
"What are you going to do, shoot me?" David asked. He was not intimidated by Molly holding the gun. Molly's hands were shaking and David could see it.
"Please don't make me." Molly begged.
"I won't if you just put the gun down." David walked closer.
Molly backed away. "You were my brother and I love you." Molly cried.
As Molly and David held their stand off, Sherlock rushed in with the police. Looking around, Sherlock finally spotted Molly up above aiming a gun at David.
"John!" Sherlock said to his friend as he pointed above them. They both took separate stair cases which lead John behind David and Sherlock behind Molly.
"Molly, you can let go of the gun now." John said as he pointed his own gun at Molly's brother.
Sherlock easily put a hand on Molly's shoulder, letting her know that he was there. Molly lowered the gun to her side as she glanced back to Sherlock. It was over, she thought.
David rushed for Molly, reaching for the gun. Molly's hand was still near the trigger. Sherlock and John froze as they heard the gun go off. David fell down to the floor, dead from one single bullet wound. Molly dropped to her knees, not believing what had happened.
"No - No!" Molly shook as she put her hands to her face. Sherlock squatted down and wrapped his arms around Molly. "I didn't mean to kill him." Molly looked at Sherlock.
"I know." Sherlock quietly said.
It took two hours before Sherlock could take Molly away from the warehouse. There were questions that had to be answered and statements that had to be taken. Molly held a blanket wrapped tight around herself.
"What will happen to those other girls?" Molly asked. She thought it was Sherlock beside her but it was Mycroft instead.
"Most were runaways and a few were taken from their homes. Presumably they will return back to their homes." Mycroft answered.
"And I was the one who made a mistake in not identifying his body." Molly quietly said.
Mycroft, who had returned to his phone, looked up when he heard Molly speak, "I am sorry, what were you saying?"
Molly shook her head, "Nothing." Molly watched as David's body was removed from the scene. Suddenly she felt hands on her own hands. Molly looked up to stare into Sherlock's eyes.
"Are you all right?" Sherlock asked. Molly only nodded. But Sherlock could read her silent lie.
"Sherlock, if we are done here, the plane is ready." Mycroft said.
"But what about the hotel? What about our suitcases?" Molly asked.
"Already taken care of." Sherlock said.
The plane ride home was comfortable on Mycroft's private plane. Molly stretched out on a few seats and fell fast asleep.
"Think she will be okay?" John asked Sherlock.
"On the outside, yes." Sherlock said, "But on the inside, no. She shot her brother, even if by accident, and that will haunt her for a long time."
"You know, you were the best thing for me over therapy meetings." John said. "I didn't trust anyone and walked with a limp that was all in my head."
"So what you are saying is that I need to take Molly out on some cases, make her chase after criminals and have a bomb vest strapped to her?" Sherlock asked.
"Well no, that will cause her more trauma." John said, "But she needs someone who knows what she went through. Someone who will help her feel like she is over New York and her brother."
"And why do I assume you mean for that to be me?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, you did admit to me that you kissed Molly. And you were there the whole time and will know when she needs help to cope." John said.
"I do not do coping." Sherlock said.
They stopped talking when they saw Molly jerk her and cry in her sleep. Molly was dreaming about shooting her brother on that grated second floor in the warehouse. Sherlock stood and leaned down beside her.
"Hey, it's okay." Sherlock eased.
"Don't you?" John asked under his breath. He was smiling behind the consulting detective's back who was holding Molly as she woke up and now had her arms wrapped around him, crying.
"I keep seeing it all in my head. He was my brother and I shot him." Molly said.
"Yes, and he was going to do so much worse to you. Molly, I know of his plans to sale you. He had a debt over his head and you were his deposit." Sherlock said.
That didn't help her tears as she cried more. Molly excused herself to the restroom so that she could clean up before the plane would land in London.
Once back home Molly gladly consumed herself in her work, doing more autopsies than were on her lists. She was surprised when she saw Sherlock hanging around more often.
"How are you doing?" Sherlock asked one day.
"Good - better." Molly said.
"So, I was wondering, Molly Hooper, if you would like to..." Sherlock began.
"Get you any spare body parts from the morgue? Because we have them if you need for your experiments." Molly said.
"Get some coffee." Sherlock finished.
"Oh." Molly was surprised.
"Well, would you?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes." Molly answered.
Sherlock made a mental note to come back for the spare body parts that were offered. It had been one month since New York and while everyone, including John, believed she was progressing a lot better than expected, Sherlock could still see the look in the pathologists eyes that she still continued to have the nightmares. But the more he came around, the more coffee dates they had, Sherlock could see less of the nightmares in Molly's eyes. Perhaps John had been right, the consulting detective was better than therapy.
Ok - so that was the end. I hope this wasn't too long for anyone to read (and look now I have you reading more! lol). I apologize if I ever had Sherlock off character. I love the ideas of Sherlock and Molly together (Sherlolly) so I pushed them together. Didn't get them together as much as I had hoped (in my rough draft she was sleeping with her head in his lap on the plane ride back to London and Sherlock did not want to let Molly out of his arms. I also had less John in the story so I decided to add him in (because what's a Sherlock without a John?)
I tried going 10 chapters but didn't want to drag the story out. Guess by a line of Sherlock's, you can assume this took place after The Great Game. But I just didn't want to include Mary or any of the other episodes. Didn't feel the need to. So for where at in the story line of Sherlock this goes, that can be up to the reader's imagination.
Thank you for reading! I'll have many more stories to write :o).