In the Tub (A Sherlolly Fanfic)

Blanks

Dedicated to BreeFehr because you reminded me that I had to update. Otherwise I'd be out and about do something boring.

Molly stared at her living room. There was one tiny stain on her white carrier.

One tiny red stain. The room spun around her as she stared at it. It wasn't even the size of her thumb, but it seemed bigger than her head.

Slowly she shook herself out of her trance and grabbed the stain remover from under her kitchen sink. That stain wouldn't be there much longer.

Molly rolled her sleeves up and began scrubbing. Sweat poured down face as she worked. No matter how hard she scrubbed, the red just spread.

"What are you doing?"

Molly didn't pause, "Getting the blood stain out of the carpet."

John strolled to get side and pulled the sponge out of her hand. "The bodies were stacked on the foyer, Molly."

All she could do was gape. She looked back at the stain as realization dawned on her.

"This stain is from my wine tasting party isn't it? The one where Mrs. Hudson sang karaoke?""

"Yup."

She wiped her brow and collapsed against the side of her couch. "This is going to drive me mad, John." The red was more purple now that her vision was clearing. "I can't live like this."

"Don't worry, Sherlock is on this case. You know him, do you think he will let this slide?"

"No." Molly sighed. "My flat has too much white."

John chucked, "Yes, it does."

---

"John told me that you were having doubts." Molly slowly raised her eyes from her paper work.

"Not doubts." Molly's cheeks were going pink. John should be ashamed that he had told Sherlock that.

Sherlock sighed. "Then what?"

"Fears." Molly sucked in a deep breath and tried to appear more confident than she was. "A hug won't make my fear go away."

Sherlock gave her a tight smile. "I know. That is why I chose to get you this." He layed a handgun on the table beside her paper work.

"Sherlock!"

He raised his eyebrows. "I'm not saying go shooting up London."

"I know! But a gun?" Molly poked it away carefully, making sure that the barrel pointed away from both of them. "I don't even know how to use one."

"You don't have to. You just point and fire." Sherlock swept up the gun and demostrated the technique. "See?"

Molly frowned. "I've watched enough American telly to know there is more to shooting than that." Though her mind began to focus on a particular episode of the American show Criminal Minds when an agent had failed his weapon exam, but ended up saving the day with a headshot. Her heartbeat fast at the notion of being a hero, like him.

"Not with this gun. Its loaded with blanks." Sherlock grinned at her, looking quite proud of himself.

"Blanks?"

"Fake bullets. All they do is make a very loud noise." Guess I'm not going to be a hero after all.

"Than what good are they?"

Sherlocks eyes flew up again. "Buy you some time. They'll scare who ever you're shooting at. And you will be able to run away and call me."

"Oh." Molly picked up the gun carefully and slid it into her purse. "Do you carry a gun?"

"Sometimes. But mine isn't loaded with blanks." Molly looked up at him. His back was straight and he stared right at her. His expression was intense, his eyes seemed to bore into her. "I don't want you to be scared anymore."

"I don't want to be scared either. But I don't know that I'll ever feel safe again."

---

Molly walked quietly in the shadows of the building. She knew how awkward she must look clutching her purse like that, but she couldn't help it.

Bizzzzing Bizzzzing!

Molly threw her arms into the air, sending her purse flying into the street. With a gasp she launched herself at it. She pulled her mobile out, while running back to the sidewalk. Only an idiot would stand in the middle of a street so soon after getting hit by a car.

"Molly?"

"Inspector?" Molly felt her chest squeeze, this couldn't be good news.

"We found your father." Molly hesitated. This could go either way.

"How?"

"He's been shot."

---

Sherlock stared at the pistol in his hand and dumped it in the water. The reflections of the lights in the river did little to brighten his mood. The quiet splat from below gave him his cue to leave. He silently left as his mobile began to ring. Molly was calling him.

Authors rant:

You all must hate me. I'm a terrible person. Believe me, I know. How long can it take to write a thousand words or so? Weak. That's what I am. I should've updated sooner. Excuses is all I have to offer, but I'm sure that you guys won't want to hear them. Besides, I'm exhausted thinking aboutt hem.

So, a dramatic ending to this chapter, huh? Did Sherlock kill someone? Who? Why? Was it for love? Mayhaps, Mayhaps not. Was it Moriarty? Or Molly's dad? Or Stan? Or Sherlock's barber?

Okay, it probably wasn't the latter. Or the first option. Though wouldn't that be wild? Us, worrying about Molly's dad when it was Moriaty behind the scenes? Man, now I'm disappointed that I didn't think of that until now.

Questions, comments, concerns?