I DIDNT LOOK AT THE PREVIEW THE CODING WASNT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN IM SORRY ITS FIXED NOW :( my sincerest apologies

"Are you okay?" Holding a hand firmly to her upper arm with a piece of cloth to staunch the bleeding, Molly gingerly stepped over the glass on the floor toward Mary, who had taken refuge behind a shelf because of her delicate condition.

"Yeah." Her eyes were full of mirth. "I saw you take down that guy with the gun. Very impressive."

Molly grimaced. "Yeah, well, a strict chop to the neck will take care of most anyone. Didn't see the other guy coming though." She looked back. "I think Anthea was in the storeroom. I'm going to go check on her, although she ought to be fine."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. I'll come with."

[[MORE]]

Molly helped her off the floor, then they walked toward the door behind the counter that was ajar. Molly peeked in first, then headed straight toward the prone form near the back of the room. She shook the woman's shoulder. "Anthea. Anthea, wake up."

Seeing no response, she reached toward Anthea's neck to feel for a pulse. But just as her fingertips touched skin, Anthea's eyes popped open, and Molly was subject to a swift push. She landed on her behind, not without a whimper of pain.

Anthea was immediately on her feet and helping Molly up. "Gosh, Molly, I'm so sorry. I thought you were one of those guys."

"It's alright." She stood up. "What happened?"

"Well, I took care of that guy…" She gestured toward the prone figure in the red hoodie, "…and that bald man and I hit each other at exactly the same time. Both knocked out. What are the chances?"

Mary shrugged. "At least you're awake before he is. I give it about half an hour." She walked toward the storage room door and looked out the entrance. "…and there are all our useless husbands. Guess John isn't mad at me anymore." She frowned. "Why do we even need men, someone remind me?"

Molly and Anthea both shrugged and walked toward the door. Just as they reached it, the three men burst into the shop, each holding a weapon.

Anthea rolled her eyes. "Mycroft, put down that umbrella. We're going to the hospital. Molly needs to be bandaged up, and I need to be checked for a concussion."

John rushed forward. "Mary! Are you okay? Is the baby…are you okay?" He looked her up and down, one hand at her wrist, the other on her belly. After making sure she hadn't been negatively affected by the encounter, he sighed in relief. "I'm sorry about before. I just…"

Sherlock, upon seeing Molly's injuries, stuffed his gun into Mycroft's hand. He stepped forward and, ignoring her protests that it wasn't her leg that was hurt and that she could walk just fine, picked her up and carried her in his arms. He then turned around and headed toward the car without a word.

Anthea sighed. "Mycroft, you've got to learn from your brother." Heading toward the car as well, she didn't see the look of outrage on his face.

"Be careful next time."

Unlike John's long rant at his wife about going out alone without protection in which Mary simply rolled her eyes and refused to listen on the basis of experience ("Molly and Anthea are so much more useful than you guys. Last time you couldn't even protect a man from dumping popcorn on me."), Sherlock's and Mycroft's talks were exceedingly short.

"I'll get you security guards." Mycroft informed Anthea.

She grinned. "Why, thank you, sweetie!" She pecked him on the cheek. He grunted, but let her sit on his lap nonetheless, holding her closer.

Sherlock, on the other hand, took the decidedly less romantic path.

"I'll order you a gun," he told Molly.

She simply blinked. "I don't know how to use a gun."

"Well, you'll learn."

"No, I won't."

"Molly, stop fighting me on this. These situations are highly dangerous and - "

"Sherlock, so help me, if you say another word about this, I'm moving out. I don't want a gun, and that's final!"

He shut up immediately, but his doleful eyes followed her around the room as she went to talk with Anthea and Mary.

Mary laughed at her friend, having witnessed their interaction. "Tough love?"

Molly smiled. "I know he loves me though. I just like to keep him in check."

Meanwhile, John patted Sherlock on the shoulder. He grinned at consulting detective who had fallen completely silent. "She's got you completely whipped, mate."