Sherlock's Love Interest (BBC Fan-Fiction)

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

2 hours and 45 minutes. That was all the time that remained. John was no help, on the phone trying to calm Mary, who was screaming profanities at Sherlock (she just hoped he could hear her). Mycroft was walking around looking, but not talking. Sherlock was walking up and down different sections of the run down neighborhood.

Buildings lay in ruins at their feet, a grand forest threatening to creep up on it. Only a few buildings still stood, and even those looked like they could topple with a puff of breath. But the room Molly was in had thick concrete walls and a steady roof.

After fifteen minutes, Sherlock made his way quickly back to the others, mumbling to himself about what he saw.

Grabbing the phone from John, Sherlock interrupted Mary by hanging up. "Sherlock!"

"Do you want to listen to that or save Amelia?" That made his argument fade instantly.

"What do we do now?"

"Start helping! She's here somewhere!" Only Sherlock, who later realized this, knew he was talking about Molly and not Amelia.

Mycroft eyed him carefully. Sherlock was unsure, worried, desperate, and stressed, everything that could possibly point to having an emotional bond with another. Those emotions were unwanted in his life. He felt sorry for Sherlock then; this was tearing him apart.

John almost flinched away from Sherlock, but didn't. Instead, he looked around as directed. There were pine trees ahead, so he headed toward them.

"Here!" he shouted upon seeing a small shack that was well-kept. He flung open the door, hoping to find his daughter behind it. But there were only garden tools.

"Amelia," he sighed broken-heartedly, "where are you?"

Sherlock ignored John, running through the streets. Soon John's calls faded and he started to get very frustrated with the doctor.

"John!" he yelled, running back over to the place they'd started. When he saw a black car with no license plate, he felt his heart lurch. "John!"

He sprinted toward the car, but it was gone long before he reached it. "Mycroft!"

There was no response. Sherlock knew the truth. He was getting close, so Moriarty took the only people who could possibly help him. What would he do now?

Molly, in her cell, untied the ropes that were tied around her ankles and grabbed one from the wall. While she worked, she let Amelia either fuss or sleep in the confines of her fluffy coat.

With one rope freed, she took a dangling earring out of her ear and hooked it into the end. Now she had a weapon similar to a fish hook and line. She picked up Amelia and used the other rope and her coat to make a kind of sling in which she could be safe if Molly had to run.

Molly wrapped the earring-free end of the rope around her hand a couple times, then took a breath and opened the unlocked door. She gasped and her free hand pressed the baby closer to herself.

"Hello. Thought you could escape, did you? Think again." Moriarty stood aside and John and Mycroft were shoved in beside her, nearly making her topple over. She did, however, fall forward when John grabbed his daughter from her.

Mycroft caught her by the shoulders and she thanked him with a nod of her head.

John's joy was short lived as three men followed the consulting criminal into the room, each with a gun. He handed Amelia back to Molly, knowing that he would need his hands free to fight when the time came, whether presented by Sherlock or not.