Hi guys, it's Katie. Umm. so the main reason i have stopped updating YHACMH is because Karina has been ignoring me and hasn't sent me the chapter even though she said she would three weeks ago and it kind of upset me.

So this is completely the opposite of anything ive ever written but i've been wanting to write something like this for a long time so i finally did. Happy New Year by the way :). AND SHERLOCK EPISODE 1 SERIES 3! THAT KISS BETWEEN MOLLY AND SHERLOCK. I have some pretty conclusive proof that Sherlock loves Molly from what he says to her and the way he acts. MMMMhm.

now for the warning...:



This is kind of based off of the song Never Too Late by Three Days Grace, so if you want to, keep the lyrics in mind while reading, it sort of makes sense with it, i was listening to it on repeat while i wrote this, i love Three Days Grace. Sorry im rambling.

This is also sort of based off of personal experience at times and second hand experience (friends and what not) but I never had some one like Sherlock Holmes to save me like Molly will.

It will be sherlolly but in order for them to be in a relationship i feel like i should establish their friendshipish predicament thing.


you have been warned... -Katie-

Molly tried to take a deep slow breath, but the constriction in her chest would not allow her to and she ended up coughing loudly. She was rocking back and forth under the desk in her room but she could not will herself to calm down, how could she though, she was in the middle of a massive panic attack.

At that moment, 15 year old Molly Hooper was absolutely terrified of nothing. She just felt small, hopeless, and scared. She was relieved that her father and 6 month pregnant mother chose that night to go on a date night but was also afraid since that meant no one was around to help her.

She had gotten them before, but she never told anyone since she was able to calm down after a while if she just sat and waited for the attack to subside, but the one she was having this night was far worse than anything she had experienced before.

When she had only slightly calmed down, at least enough to come out from under her desk, she thought of getting her phone and texting one her friends to come over and just watch a movie with her, but then she thought 'I don't have any friends though…'

The only other person that came to mind for her to text was John Watson, one of the only people that seemed to notice that she was there, but she never asked him for his cell number. There was also Sherlock Holmes…

She outwardly sighed at the mere thought of him and felt her stomach constrict more but with also fill with nervous butterflies. He and John Watson were in the grade above hers, and technically they were as close to friends as she could have. Since she didn't talk much, every day at lunch she would just sit and listen to Sherlock do deductions on their fellow schoolmates, occasionally John would hit him in the arm for saying one too harsh or too personal, even if the person couldn't hear.

John was always so polite and she couldn't for the life of her figure out why he was so nice to her. Even Sherlock respected her to an extent, letting her talk on the rarity that she did, and sometimes joining in and conversing with her on some of the not so good teachers she had, droning on about their personal lives, and which teacher was sleeping with the STD filled janitor sort of thing.

She wobbled on weak knees to her bed for she curled up into as small of a ball as she could and let the first of her tears fall down the side of her face and land lazily on her bed sheets.

'Great…sad again…' she thought. As more time passed with her not having anyone to talk to about how she felt, she would grow more and more tired, as well as all the more sad. Sometimes she could barely get out of bed until she was practically screamed at by her parents, blaming it on just simply being a teenager but she paid attention enough in health class to know that it was much more complex than that. She figured that it had to be at least some form of depression and anxiety.

But she wouldn't dare ask for help from her parents. They barely had enough money to get by as it is and medication isn't exactly cheap, especially with her new brother or sister arriving soon. She might also ask for help if she thought that anyone actually gave a damn about her. She would feel so guilty if that happened so she tried whatever she could to try to get rid of the pain herself. Including hurting herself.

She doesn't exactly have a logically reason why she does it. Sometimes it's simply because she is bored. Others because she is too sad to do anything else, and other times it feels to her like the weight of the whole world, no, the whole universe is on her shoulders and she feels so helpless and scared that she drops it and her whole life feels like it's crumbling and shattering around her. She had never done it deep enough for loss of consciousness or stitches, but she does it until right before it hits that point.

Tonight she just didn't care about what happened to her though, so she got off of her bed and took the familiar route to her bathroom, where she went to the small hole behind a picture hanging on the wall and she pulled out a sock that contained her weapons of choice.

She took out her newest and sharpest blade, which came from a rather large pencil sharpener that she found in one of the practice rooms near the band room where she often practiced piano during her free period.

Although she was normally careful at hiding it, only cutting herself on her thighs, she couldn't bring herself to care tonight, so she simply rolled up the sleeve of her jumper, whipped the tears from her eyes, and slowly dragged the blade across her wrist.

She did it again, and again, and again until her wrist to her forearm was mangled and dripping with blood onto the easily washable tile floor. She quickly took off her clothes and jumped in the shower, letting her burning hot tears mix with the blood from her cuts as it went down the drain.

She didn't know how much longer she could handle it anymore.

'I should tell John' she thought. John would help her, wouldn't he? He was always so kind and seemed to care enough. Or maybe he would just think her disgusting and freakish for doing this to herself, so once again, she opted out of telling anyone and getting the help she so desperately needed.

After 45 minutes her cuts more or less stopped bleeding so she got out of the shower, quickly but efficiently scrubbed the bathroom, and made it to her bed just in time to begin sobbing quickly, her whole body shaking rapidly, and her arm feeling as if it were on fire, and eventually she exhausted herself and fell asleep to the sound of a rather loud October rain clanging against the roof over her head as she heard her parents pulling up in the driveway what was most likely a fun night out.

'Thank god it's Saturday' she thought.

Too bad it was actually Sunday, which meant she had school in the morning.

So yeah.. that was chapter 1. Dark i know but thats what the story is about. I dunno why but i always thought that Molly would feel like a sad lonely teenage, but she was still very smart, but sadness can lead you to do really stupid things.

Please review i love to hear from you guys.

Ill write another chapter tomorrow, maybe two chapters or a chapter and a random one shot or something we'll see.

Poor Molly though. :'( I felt really bad writing it but bad things have to happen before the good. don't worry, her night in shining armor (meaning a teenage version of a belstaff coat and a scarf and a slightly too tight shirt) will save her soon enough ;)

I just need to establish this side of Molly first before sending her to school to be confronted by everyone, everything, and Sherlock.