The dark figured moved along the edge of the rooftop, dressed head to toe in dark clothes. Her long hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that cascaded down her back, perfectly straight without having to be straightened with heat. She'd lost her sense of fear months ago, after the events that had brought the country to it's knees. Great Britain had become a frightening place to live, now. The Queen had lost her country. Mycroft Holmes had lost his government. And all at the hands of one extremely clever dominatrix and one extremely mad consulting criminal. The figure made her way quietly down the fire escape at the side of the building, occasionally checking behind her to make sure she wasn't being followed, and ran swiftly along the alley behind a row of shops. As she came to the end, she turned down a narrow pathway and moved towards the reasonably hidden entrance of a cellar, tapping lightly on the door. After a few seconds, a metal panel in the door pulled back, and a pair of dark eyes looked out at her.
"It's me.." she breathed softly, stepping closer to the door. The panel slid closed once more and the door swung open. She slipped through into the darkness, and the door slammed behind her.
"You were quicker than we thought.." the owner of the dark eyes mumbled as he locked the doors
"Double check them.."
"No you didn't. We can't afford mistakes, Anderson.." the woman glanced at the former forensics expert as she slipped off her coat and handed it to him.
"Well, I'll.. check again.."
She made her way along a long, concrete corridor, ignoring the doors along the sides. She'd almost gotten used to the smell of fermenting alcohol that seemed to plague the building. She wasn't sure what it used to be before it became their fortress, but she'd heard whispers that it was an abandoned bingo hall. She made her way up a flight of stairs, passing what used to be the main, front entrance to the building. It had been bricked up recently, solid so that no one could get in. Everything had been bricked up. There were only two exits from the building; the hidden entrance she'd entered through, and a secret passageway for escape in case of attack.
She pushed open a large, oak door, and four pairs of eyes were immediately on her. Before she knew it, long arms had wrapped around her, pulling her into the warmth of a lean, male body.
"What's that for?" she asked softly as she looked up at the owner of the arms, his pale blue eyes meeting her dark ones.
"I worry about you when you leave.."
"You sent me out"
"Because you were the only one I could trust with this, Molly.. Doesn't mean I don't worry.."
"I'm fine, Sherlock.. I took the roof way.." he smiled at that and released her from his hold, pulling back slightly. His eyes quickly scanned her and she smiled softly under his gaze.
"I know what you're doing, but I'm honestly fine. I didn't see anyone.."
Satisfied, Sherlock moved back to his seat. Molly followed him, sitting down beside him, and silently handing him a piece of paper.
"Nice to see you back safe, though, Molly.." Greg Lestrade smiled at the young woman and she returned it kindly.
"Molly, darling.. Do you want some tea?"
"I'd love a cup, thank you, Mrs Hudson." Molly smiled at the older woman as she got up from her seat and moved towards the small, portable kettle in the corner.
"Yeah, I could do with one too, Mrs H.."
"A please would be nice, John Watson.." Mrs Hudson reprimanded. "The world might have gone to hell, but manners needn't."
"Yes.. sorry.." The former army doctor scratched the back of his head. "Please."
Sherlock cleared his throat.
"Well as lovely as this exchange is.. Can we get on with it?" he unfolded the paper Molly had handed him, quickly reading it before putting it quickly into his pocket without a word. If they were curious about it's contents, Lestrade, John and Mrs Hudson didn't make it obvious.
"You're sure this is true?" Sherlock turned to Molly when they were alone in their bedroom, unfolding the piece of paper once more.
"Not completely, no.. The Homeless network made sure I got it, but I didn't see him for myself."
"Probably for the best.. Moriarty would have you killed the minute you got close."
Molly sighed and sat down on the bed. It was a luxury, she knew. There were at least 130 people staying in their hideout, and very few of them had beds. Her bed was the last thing she'd thought of when Sherlock had turned up on her doorstep at 2 in the morning asking her to flee with him, she'd made sure to bring whatever small luxuries they could manage quickly. She'd spent that first night sleeping on a hard wooden floor in Sherlock's arms, but the aches and pains came quickly. Initially, it had just been the 4 of them; Sherlock, John, Mrs Hudson and herself, and they all had a nice warm, comfortable place to sleep within a week thanks to Sherlock and his homeless network who managed to move each of their beds under cover of darkness. But then Lestrade, Donovan and Anderson had shown up, and Sherlock had sacrificed his own bed. He now shared Molly's when he did, actually sleep. As Moriarty's reign of terror continued, however, more and more people showed up, and the rooms began to fill up. It was a large building, but not large enough. Sacrifices had to be made, and now Molly and Sherlock had been moved to the smallest room at the very top of the building. It was all they needed, though, really. Sherlock had privacy, quiet time for when he needed to think, and Molly had made it as comfortable as she possibly could. Now it could, at least, be considered homely. "Do you think it's true?" she asked after a while, shifting herself to lie back against the pile of pillows that had been brought from her flat. It was smaller than it had been then, as she'd given some away to those who didn't have something to rest their head on.
"I can only hope.. But I don't know.. If this is true, and he's still alive.. I'm not sure how much longer he will be." Sherlock sighed, sitting down beside him. He shifted himself so he was lying with his head in her lap. Molly immediately began playing with his hair, twirling his curls around her fingers.
"Then what do we do?" she asked softly, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead.
"Simple. We come up with a plan to rescue him.. We'll be much better with Mycroft in our ranks.."