Part 5- Resting

1 WEEK LATER

"How is he?" Molly whispered to John as she padded as quietly as she could into the flat. John pursed his lips and shook his head.

"He hasn't said a word since we got him back here- he seems so ashamed of himself and what's he's done- he somehow got the newspaper article of Mrs Johnson's accident. He destroyed his phone and his laptop in his rage." He sighed.

"Sometimes I think we should have-"Don't John" Molly interrupted, closing her eyes and holding a hand up for silence.

"Please don't regret what we've done now, we've staged an accident, I've forged an autopsy and all for him- I know he's in there" she whispered. John sighed.

"You've always had too much faith in him Molly" he said, shaking his head and looking up towards the ceiling.

"You ever think it's that you don't have enough?" she replied. John turned back to her, a confused expression on his face.

"Maybe that's why he hasn't responded to anyone else... now will you please let me see him, alone?" she pleaded, her eyes wide. John thought for a moment, steepling his fingers like Sherlock used to.

"Right, ok- ok. But you're not going in there unarmed." He stated.

Sherlock emitted a tiny growl as the chains on the other side of the door rattled. He tugged half-heartedly at the chains that kept him out of reach of the people entering the room.

Normally timid but this time so brave and so strong Molly pushed the door open slightly allowing a tiny sliver of sunlight to enter the room from the window opposite his door. Sherlock hissed, raising his hand to his eyes. The whole myth about sunlight burning them up was utter bull, and neither did they sparkle in the sun, but there was no doubting that sunlight did not agree with him.

Molly rushed inwards quickly shutting the door and clicking the light on. Unnatural light flooded the room and Sherlock sighed in relief as the natural light ceased to irritate his eyes.

"Sorry, John made me bring it in" Molly said awkwardly, waving the piece of wood around. In the light the blood on the homemade stake shone brightly and Sherlock felt sick to his stomach at how confidently she was holding it.

"The stake suits you Molly" he said huskily, his voice weak from not talking for a week. Molly's eyes snapped upwards at his familiar voice.

"I thought you weren't talking to anyone" she replied sarcastically. Sherlock smirked, his lips twitching.

"No- I wanted to talk to you" he said. Molly looked at him confused.

"You saved my life... in a sense" he finished. Molly laughed softly.

"What do you want this time?" she chuckled. Sherlock was suddenly very serious.

"The same thing I wanted last time I saw you... that night in your dreams" he said. Molly's cheeks flooded with colour, Sherlock groaned as he saw the blood rush to her face, so tantalizingly close to the surface.

"I... I can't do that Sherlock, but I can give you this" she muttered, roaming in the pockets of the large coat she was wearing. She pulled out two bags of donated blood, and threw them to the man.

He caught them both easily with one hand and stared at the object. They were still warm from being inside Molly's coat, nearly at body temperature.

Greedily, without bothering with the screw top he sank his fangs into the first bag, piercing the plastic on one side and sucking noisily. The first was gulped down in a few moments; Sherlock licked his lips getting each of the precious droplets into his mouth.

"I recognized the taste of this second one" he whispered, motioning to the bag that he had settled into his hand to speak, his eyes flickering up to meet Molly's, the colour bright blood red from the recent feed. She flushed again, causing a groan to go up from Sherlock as he felt the hunger return.

"Yes- there's only so many bags that I can steal from the hospital, I had to supply some of my own" she said awkwardly, looking around the room avoiding Sherlock's probing eyes.

"Your- that was your own blood?" he said unbelievingly. She nodded, her eyes staring up at a mossy patch on the ceiling, aware that Sherlock's eyes were fixed on her, the pupils wide and hiding the unnatural red irises.

In horror Sherlock dropped the bag, his fangs retreating back into his mouth. The blood began to pool across the floor, the blood moving thickly into a deep red puddle. Molly rushed forward, grabbing the blood bag and stopping her blood from being wasted on the floor.

"For goodness sake Sherlock- it's out of my body, it's not harming me and I'm not having you waste it. Drink it" she hissed, thrusting the oozing bag back into his hands. She remained a hairs breath aware from the staring vampire, the stake clutched lightly in her hands.

Sherlock regarded her with his typical probing eyes. She looked exhausted, dark rings under her eyes, her eyes blood shot and her skin pale. He blinked, leaning the bag upright against the wall.

"Molly." He said simply. Her tired eyes flashed upwards, meeting his eyes properly for the first time since she'd entered the room. He continued to look at her.

"I was joking" he began slowly. Her brow furrowed.

"When I said I wanted your blood" he said, testing the words in his mouth. Her mouth curved upwards.

"Didn't seem like that the other night." she chuckled. Sherlock stayed stony faced for a moment, a look of confusion etched onto his face. Her smile broke that however as his face cracked into an uneasy smile.

They stayed chuckling for a moment before it faded into silence. The two remained, sitting Sherlock on his haunches in one of those awkward positions that everyone marvelled at him being able to sit in and Molly crossed legged less than a metre away. Sherlock looked down at his bloodstained hands before back to her face. She was regarding the bruise where the needle had punctured her skin earlier on in the day.

Strangely, Sherlock felt no hunger staring as he stared at the blood flushed skin. He slowly moved forward, hearing the chains that were binding him chink warningly to the woman who was now mere inches away from him. She looked up at his approaching form and made no attempt to move away, her grip on the stake loosened even more.

Sherlock locked eyes with her and he traced his finger over her arm.

"Why didn't you move Molly?" he whispered. She unbelievably moved even closer, perching on her knees so she was directly facing him, her eyes gazing deep into his.

"I'm not scared of you Sherlock" she said slowly as if she was making herself believe it. Sherlock's hand moved upwards, laying his palm against her smooth neck, feeling her skin flush and her pulse jump at his contact.

"I could kill you- break your neck, drain you dry." he said, huskily, fighting his natural urges to elongate his fangs and kill the woman who was so close, under his fingertips.

"But you won't" she whispered, raising his head to meet hers. She gave him a light kiss on the lips before moving slowly away from him. Sherlock remained frozen to the spot, his fingertips on his lips where her body heat still remained.

"I know you're not you at the moment- and I can't expect you to be for a long time, but I can wait. Everything's going to be alright Sherlock." She continued.

As the new Sherlock sat under her gaze, a small smile playing on her lips and her own blood spattered in tiny droplets on them, he knew that it would be. In the following months, he would go through terrible times, being released from his prison into a world of warmth and blood where it took all his willpower not to kill everyone in the room, all his willpower and a warm hand resting on his arm. Then out into the real world, were no-one knew of his affliction, where he would go on to be even more of a legend of deductive work, using his problem as a positive thing and using his given talents to use some good in the world, some people marvelled at how he caught the scent of the killer so quickly, Sherlock, John, Mycroft and Lestrade always had a chuckle at how apt this phrase was.

A world where he and Molly could go out, get coffee feel almost human, she made him feel human, with that slight brush of her warm skin over his ice cold hand as they spoke, or that smile that he swore sometimes made his heart start beating again. They never reached the closeness that they had felt with one another in his cage until 3 years later when finally with his urges fully under control and her being in no immediate danger, Sherlock arrived at her door, his hair mottled and wet from the run in the rain and initiated they're first proper kiss.

It seemed that for Sherlock, as he lay beside Molly on the sofa, his hand nestled in her hair and head on his lap fast asleep, that everything no matter how bizarre and extreme it was had happened for a reason, and in a strange turn of events had made him more human. And everything as how it should have been.

Oh god... that's a corny ending and I did make it Molly/Sherlock. It's just it seemed proper, her being his knight in shining armour and all. I wasn't kidding this was going to be only a few chapters long because if I let it grow it would have ended up being about 20 and them I would never get anything else done. Hope you enjoyed reading this, I sure enjoyed writing it and maybe, just maybe there may be a sequel or a one-shot in Molly and Sherlock's future or something... I know as much as you do at the moment. Anyway, this is me saying goodbye to this fic. Over and out. :)