Molly Hooper felt bad. She shouldn't because she was engaged and not a detective anyway so why would she have ever had another answer. Because he asked. Her subconscious nagged. Yes she would have before Tom, she would have dropped everything and run off with him regularly if he asked. If he asked she still may have gone. Sherlock had changed though. He didn't ask. He told her he was happy for her and he left her there, stalking away like the frustrating man that he was. She shook her head clear of these thoughts as she turned towards home.

"Excuse me," a man said with an American accent, "I think I got turned around can you help me figure out this map?"

"Of course," she smiled brightly. Molly Hooper lived to help people.

He came closer and held out the map but reached his other hand out with something else. She felt the needle prick and was out before she understood what was happening.

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Molly woke up in a brushwood prison. She tried to make herself know but she was bound and gagged securely. Sherlock she thought Sherlock will come. After five minutes she began to panic though. Yup that's all it took five minutes for tears to be streaming down her face with a sore throat from screams that were never heard. One case, she rebuked herself with despair, one case Molly Hooper and you are already the damsel in distress. Then she decided that she would not give up. She was stronger than this and if she failed it couldn't be worse than the hell she was in right now. Then she smelled the flames.

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Sherlock walked down the street leaving Molly behind. Being alive was almost as much work as being dead and almost as painful. John had a mean right hook. Why did people move on? He was happy the way things were. Why did they feel like change was needed? John he understood to a degree, he thought he was dead. Molly knew he was alive though so why did she need change? He was happy she was happy but he didn't like change.

He decided to eat for once so he stopped for French fries. He walked in the door to see Mary and John looking ill at ease. Maybe John has come to, nope he is still mad, ne her is here because something is wrong.

"Mrs. Hudson?" he asked.

"She is taking her soothers," Mary told him.

"Lestrade?"

"No Sherlock they are all fine. It's Molly. It may be nothing but she didn't show up and we were supposed to go out with her tonight. Mary thought she may be with you but now we know that…" John trailed off.

Just then a text came in. Sherlock stared for a minute at his phone then dropped his food and ran out into the street. He looked up the street before stepping into traffic.

"Sherlock!" John yelled but he put his hand up and stopped a motorcycle.

The detective turned around and held up his phone.

"It's a skip pattern!" Mary exclaimed earning her a glance from both men.

"Yes and now unless we hurry Molly will die."

Sherlock jumped on the motorcycle taking the helmet from the man and Mary jumped on behind him.

"John bring the car around I don't think we'll all fit," she smiled.

They took off leaving a baffled John Watson behind. Sherlock vaguely realized something was different about Mary, he noticed that by allowing her to ride with him he was putting up with more tactile sensory data than he was used to, he knew he had left a friend who he was attempting to reconcile with I the dust but now it didn't matter. The only thing Sherlock Holmes focused on was getting to Molly Hooper. He rode as if the hounds of hell were after him and tried not to be distracted by the antagonizing texts he was receiving.

"Oh my gosh," he saw the campfire.

Abandoning Mary he flew towards the light pushing towards where he knew his pathologist would be.

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Molly struggled in her thorny cell desperate to escape the smoke that was beginning to fill her lungs. She thrashed with all she could wishing just someone would pay attention to her or the screaming kid she was pretty sure saw her. There were people all around. She could hear their voices but they didn't know she was here. Great, she thought, all my life I have been invisible. Why should I die any different? Surrounded by people but no one sees little Molly Hooper. She wished Sherlock would come, she wished Tom would come, she wished anyone would come but somewhere inside her as the oxygen started becoming harder and harder to find told her she was going to die.

She felt lighter fluid drip down her leg and a second later an intense burning. Oh no, she was going to die slowly! Tears came again but she stilled as she heard a voice.

"Move. Move. Move. Molly!" it cried anguish evident in the fact that his usual baritone was slightly higher pitched. Suddenly hope came anew and she struggled to get to his voice but all her struggling did was knock a branch down and the world went black.

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Sherlock tore with his bare hands through the fire. The heat scalded his hands but he kept going for what seemed like an eternity until he saw a small figure at the bottom. He grabbed under her arms and pulled her out. He pulled her into his arms so she was lying on his lap her head falling to the side of his arms. He was holding her with one arm using the other to desperately search for a pulse and mutter promises he knew he could never keep. He was frantically feeling at her neck and wrist as Mary begged him for information. He made promises that he would follow lab rules, that he would let her live her life in peace, that she would never have to see him again if she just looked at him one more time but try as he might he couldn't find a pulse.

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Hands, strong hands were under her arms. She was floating and it felt nice but something anchored her somewhere else. Those hands. Then things got loud so many voices she wished she could just tell them to go away.

"Someone call the medics!"

"Is she okay? Sherlock! Is she okay?"

"Oh hi Mary!" she tried to say but her mouth wasn't cooperating, "yes I am just fine. Just floating here."

Then another voice shook her, "Molly," she felt the vibrations of someone's voice hit her chest, "Molly I promise I won't ask for another body part again. I will follow hospital policy. I will complement your horrible style of clothes. I will never take you on a case again. Molly I will leave again if you want. Just tell me what you want Molly. I will do anything just come back to me."

She wanted to laugh. That was Sherlock! He was promising to follow rules? Why though was everyone so worried? Ah that was right the fire. She should go to them and tell them she was okay. It was just so comfortable here though. No, she couldn't let them worry.

With that thought she stirred and pain coursed through her body.

"Molly!" Sherlock exclaimed and she felt him hug her. She giggled.

"You came for me," she smiled.

"I will always come for you Molly Hooper."

"You said you would go away why would you say that? Sherlock don't leave," she almost began to cry but he shushed her by placing a kiss on her forehead, then her cheek, then her hair. He left feather light kisses all over the crown of her head and she relaxed even with the pain. Then she realized he wasn't really kissing her hair anymore but his face was still pressed there and he was muttering.

"Molly, I am so sorry. Don't ever do that again, Molly. Don't you ever do that again."

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She took in a large breath as she fluttered her eyes open and Sherlock would have done it all again to protect that moment. He pulled her still weak body up and into his chest in a tight embrace and she giggled. Giggled. After almost, no after having no pulse she looks up and giggled. Then she told him not to leave and it broke what people would considered the remaining soiled heart he had left. He thought she would be angry or blame him but she didn't. He should have known better after all this was Molly they were talking about. He pressed his lips to her forehead out of relief, then again on her cheek, he felt that if he stopped she would slip away so he feathered some into her hair. Then he couldn't stop it in any case and her told her to not to leave him ever again as tears slipped out and soaked her hair.

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Molly felt the moisture and wondered at it. She had never seen him cry not even two years ago when he arranged his own death. She looked up at Mary, who had just turned to calm John down as her fiancé had just arrived, and smiled. The woman smiled back relief in her eyes. John stepped forward and put a hand on Sherlock's arm.

"I need to take a look at her," he commanded Sherlock away but the man just moved so the doctor could assess her leaving her settled against his chest.

His warmth was welcome. It was so much better than the burn of the fire or the bite of the cold and it reassured her. Even when the medics came Sherlock kept hold of her hand even through the ride to the hospital. He only let go when they forced him away and carted her through the doors of the hospital.

She didn't see him for two days but she understood. He explained the case of the terrorist when he showed up with takeout boxes and chopsticks. She had been cleared at the hospital and prescribed rest which was driving her up the wall. She was always an active person and bed rest disagreed with her. In a particularly Sherlock moment she looked at the ceiling and yelled.

"BORED!"

"Well," a voice made her jump. She turned to see a smirking Sherlock holding the takeout, "I may be of use then."

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Sherlock and Molly sat crisscross on the floor slurping noodles. He slurped one and she giggled. He ignored her but took a particularly gross bite after that. She laughed again and he joined in with a chuckle too. Oh it was good just to hear her laugh again. After breaking the ice she asked how the case went. He was happy to share.

"So John forgave you then," Molly inquired.

"Yes, and Tom left why?" her eyes filled with tears and he immediately regretted his harsh words.

"I, um, well, I didn't mean that, um," he didn't know how to fix these situations, damn it, that is what he had John for.

"No it is okay he just. We left friends it's just, the whole kidnapping thing shook him up. He said he didn't want such a complicated life."

"Molly," Sherlock said carefully, "If it means you being happy I will go. I told you that when you were, um, temporarily gone," his voice strained, "and I will keep to it."

Molly leaned forward and grabbed his hands.

"No you look here," she started passionately, "You are my friend and I want you in my life! I don't care that it is complicated. I would be bored without it and what is the use of that?"

Sherlock was surprised he had never seen this confident Molly before. He nodded. Then chuckled.

"You sound like me," he laughed.

She faked horror putting her hand to her forehead, "No it can't be!"

They ate in comfortable company and it was late when she walked Sherlock to the door,

"Thank you Sherlock," Molly said quietly.

He was confused, "What for?"

"Oh you know saving me, watching over me, dinner."

"Oh" it clicked, "So this was good?"

"Yes," she laughed, "It was very good."

"Well then I hope I alleviated some of the boredom I know it can be tedious."

He went to leave but paused a moment and turned to her. He bent down and kissed her softly and chastely on the lips surprising her. Then he pressed his head against hers.

"I find it fortunate you are alive Molly Hooper," he whispered then left with a dramatic flourish.

A/N I may or may not add an extra chapter or two but in any case reviews are appreciated.