Sherlock's Love Interest (BBC Fan-Fiction)

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Run and hide. It won't do you any good, but it will be very fun to watch.

Ice cold terror shot through Molly Hooper's veins and her head spun in circles. Only one clear though pierced her foggy mind: Sherlock could help her!

Quickly she pulled her lab coat off and tossed it on the chair she'd been sitting on. In its place she threw on a thicker coat; she would need the layers to brace the cool air of March in London.

After hailing a cab, Molly clambered in and took a breath. "221B Baker Street." In her fear she forgot to say "please", which she usually would have.

Upon reaching her destination, Molly felt a sense of calm wash over her. Her mind was so distant she almost forgot to pay the cabbie. As she lifted her hand to knock, she dropped it and stepped back. The door was opening.

"Molly," said John in surprise, as she usually didn't make home calls, "what're you doing here?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but fright seized her tongue.

John, noticing her distress, immediately invited her inside. As they walked upstairs, the sweet sound of Sherlock's violin soothed her tense muscles.

"Where is it?" he asked without even a "hello".

"Where's what?" asked a clueless John.

Sherlock looked over, dropping his violin to his side. "The note. You've received two already, you thought I hadn't noticed." A smile lit up his face at the prospect of another case and he sat in his chair, leaving the violin forgotten by the window.

Molly stood awkwardly by the door after John pulled up a third chair. She hadn't often been to their flat, and was still uncomfortable there. John looked back and smiled. "You can sit here," he patted the arm of a chair across from Sherlock.

Molly was confused, wasn't that John's chair? But she walked over and sat. After a sharp gesture from the detective, Molly fumbled with the zipper on her purse. The second it was out Sherlock had it in his hands and was scanning it greedily. Then he looked up.

"Has anyone been watching, following, or photographing you?"

"N-not to my knowledge," she stuttered unsurely.

"Good. That means this person is likely to never follow up on his threats. Good day."

He got back up to his violin and John sighed, leading her back to the door. "Don't worry. I'm sure it's just a kid messing around."

Molly nodded, though she still clutched her purse tightly, and left.

When she got to the door of her flat, she stopped dead in her tracks. It was open. Her shaking hands found her can of pepper spray quickly (she acquired this soon after beginning to work with Sherlock) and she shook it. Gently she nudged the door farther open. Not daring to step inside, Molly looked around. The place was trashed, as if a tornado had come through.

Her eyes landed on her desktop though, which was lit up with four simple words that honestly made her pee a little: I'm not a kid.