Sherlock's Love Interest (BBC Fan-Fiction)

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"What's going on?" John asked as they practically jogged up the street.

"Don't hail a cab. Stay in front of me." That was all Sherlock said before hiding John from sight of the house. Sherlock's height came in handy here, as his intent was to keep John safe. The less the people watching the house saw him, the better.

Sherlock kept John from getting a cab until they had nearly reached Baker Street. "Now I think we're far enough away. What was that all about?"

"All what?" He unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"You know very well what!" John stormed up the stairs after him. Instead of going to the living room, however, Sherlock turned and walked toward his room. Before entering he turned to John. "Set up the air mattress in the lab and don't touch anything."

"I know what I can and can't move." He rolled his eyes as he walked toward the closet where the air mattress was.

Sherlock slowly turned the handle of his door and pushed it open. It was nearly eleven at night, so he had expected this. Molly was asleep in his bed, while Sabrina was nowhere in sight. She was on the couch.

He hesitated before closing the door and walking to the kitchen. Mary was there, sitting half asleep on a stool. "Oh, not you too!" he whispered angrily. "Where's Donovan, perhaps Anderson or Lestrade would like to join the party?"

She looked up at him. "You're tired."

"What tipped you off?"

John started up the motor to fill the mattress and Sherlock grimaced down toward him. Now that he was back, all he really wanted to do was go to sleep and think about Mo-Sabrina's predicament tomorrow.

But John didn't set up the bed for Sherlock-it was for himself and Mary. And considering that that was the only air mattress he owned, Sherlock had to find other accommodations.

After trying to sleep on the floor, the armchairs, and the coffee table, he finally looked toward his room. Molly wouldn't be upset with him when she found out it was the only place he could find to sleep. So at one in the morning, Sherlock slipped under the covers of his own bed, knackered beyond belief, and fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow.

At eight thirty Molly started to wake up. It was strange though. Hadn't she fallen asleep on a soft bed? Her pillow was hard. This was when she decided to open her eyes and solve the mystery. When she saw what she had done, her cheeks burned red and her eyes popped open, although she still yawned.

She wiggled around some and found that he had his arm around her waist, so tightly she could hardly move. Not that she really wanted to; she was still tired from having gotten into bed late, and she was very comfortable. In fact, Molly had fallen asleep only minutes before Sherlock and John had arrived back.

She fell back asleep easily, and was only woken when there was a bright flash of light. Burying her head deeper into the blanket, Molly felt Sherlock begin to move as well and her cheeks burned scarlet.

The second Sherlock realised what was happening, he covered his and Molly's heads. Mary was taking pictures of them.

"Sorry," she breathed up to him quietly. "I just didn't want to go home."

"Glad you didn't," he said back just as quietly.

Then his head snapped up and they heard a sharp "Ow!" pierce the still air. Molly and Mary couldn't contain their giggles as they saw Sabrina holding her nose. "Sorry! I couldn't help it!" Her voice was muffled by her hand, but everyone could tell she was smiling.

They sat up almost in sync, but Sherlock got up to push the two intruders out. "Sorry about taking your bed. I didn't know if you were coming back, and Sabrina was on the couch..."

"It honestly wasn't a problem," he lied smoothly.

She nodded and got up. "What were you gone so long doing?"

He remembered that he had a warning for her and told her to just stay away from her sister's flat. She frowned at this news, so he explained exactly why he needed her to do that. "I believe assassins may be watching it, to see who comes and goes. Your life is in danger if you even step up to the door."

"Okay. I'll tell Sabrina."

Molly walked out and Sherlock evaluated his other theories. Her flat hadn't been broken into, so either no one came in or she had let them in. It was very likely that someone came in from the state of her living room. It was tidied and very nice, whereas other rooms he saw from where he stood had things all over it, on the floors, counters, her bed. Clothes and food and trash were everywhere. So she had a visitor, and she had asked him over.

A man, of course. He had no real evidence to support this, but common sense told him only a man would threaten her like that.

Sherlock got dressed and walked out to the living room. "Where's the tea?" he asked. He always had morning tea.

"Mrs. Hudson hasn't brought it up," answered John. Looking at the clock, Sherlock found that he had gotten up later than usual.

"It should be here."

"Well it isn't."

"You make tea then."

John looked up at him. "You don't own any tea."

"Then go get some."

"I'm not your servant, Sherlock. If you want tea, you go get it."

Sherlock sighed and walked downstairs. "Mrs. Hudson?" he called, rapping on the door. When she didn't answer, he frowned. She always answered her door immediately, no matter what. He called once more. "Mrs. Hudson?"

There was no sound from inside, so he turned the handle and walked in. She had a kettle on the stove, but the stove wasn't on. Teacups sat out beside it, along with a teapot. This was only her front room, so he explored back some.

It was dark and quiet, very unusual for Mrs. Hudson, who left all the lights on even while she slept. He stayed quiet and walked back to her bedroom. There the door was closed, the lights on.

When he opened the door, he saw Mrs. Hudson with tears streaming down her face. She was tied to a chair with thick rope, gagged, and a masked man was holding a gun to her head.