Notes: I was home sick the other day and asked for Sherlolly prompts on tumblr - the lovely MorbidbyDefault gave me the prompt "Sherlock goes to Bart's and finds Molly swallowing a handful of pills." A bit angsty and then I put my dark and twisty spin on it. For right now, this is a one shot, but that could potentially change. :) Hope that you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nothing that you see here belongs to me! I own nothing.

Sherlock burst into the morgue, looking wildly for the petite pathologist who had become such a comfort to him while he was taking down Moriarty's network. He'd found out that Moriarty himself was still alive only a few months ago (of course he was, stupid; they were the same after all). And then tonight, while holed up in a safe house that Mycroft had arranged for him, he'd gotten a text from an unfamiliar number. It had been short but its message was clear as day.

Found out about your little secret. Better get to Bart's and make sure your Juliet sees her Romeo one last time. -Mxx

Sherlock had thrown caution to the wind and had run out of the safe house, not bothering with any of the disguises he usually put on before he went out anywhere. If Moriarty had gone after Molly…if something had happened to Molly…Sherlock would never forgive himself.

"Molly!" he shouted out, his mind filling with images of her body, mangled and broken, somewhere in the morgue.

"Office," he heard her, the word more of a strangled sob than anything. He let out a soft sigh of relief – at least she was alive and responsive. It was a small miracle. He ran to the office and his heart clenched as he saw Molly sitting at her desk, staring at a small bottle of unmarked pills and sobbing. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'm so sorry. He was here, he found out…I don't know how."

He came around to her and knelt, immediately wrapped her up in his arms, letting her cry into his chest. "It's all right, Molly. What did he tell you?"

She took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. "He said…he said that I had to take these pills. That it wasn't fair that…that I changed the rules of the game. And then he said, he showed me these pictures of John and Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade and said if I didn't, if I didn't play his game the right way, he'd kill them. And then he said he'd kill you too! I can't be responsible for their deaths, for your death, Sherlock. Not after all we've done, all I've done to save you!" Her arms wrapped around his neck and she hid her face in his neck, her tears wetting his skin.

"He said that I couldn't take them until you got here. He wanted you to see," she whispered, pulling back from him slightly. Sherlock turned his gaze to the pills, trying to figure out what they contained and if there was a way to trick Moriarty into thinking she'd taken them. It was obvious that she was somehow under surveillance; Moriarty was watching them right now somewhere…

As if Moriarty could read his mind, Sherlock's phone chimed just then with another text message.

Tick tock, Sherlock. Time for the star-crossed lovers to take their medicine. –Mxx

Sherlock's eyes hardened as he re-read the text. "What is it?" Molly whispered, sniffling.

"He wants me to take the pills too," Sherlock murmured, picking up the bottle and examining it closer. Molly snatched it out of his hand.

"No!" she protested, shaking her head violently. "No, Sherlock, you can't! He promised me you'd be safe! He said that if I followed his directions and took the pills then he'd let everyone else live."

He turned his full attention to her and his eyes hardened slightly. "Molly, do not ever think that my life is worth sacrificing yours," he muttered fiercely, cupping her cheek. Molly's eyes widened at his impassioned speech as she blankly nodded at him. Sherlock pulled up the two messages that Moriarty had sent him and showed them to Molly.

Her eyes widened as she read them and the full implications of his words sunk in. "So he wants us to die together? Why?"

Sherlock scoffed. "I'm sure that he has some story to tell the press. Exposing how you helped me fake everything…I imagine that he'll spin some story about how the guilt got to you and you committed suicide…and that I found you and was so distraught I took my own life, for real this time. He wants us to be Romeo and Juliet," he said, shaking his head as the words left his mouth.

"Will it be over? Do you think he'll leave everyone alone if we…if we do this?" Molly questioned tearfully. Sherlock shifted from kneeling beside Molly's chair to sitting down, his back against her desk. Molly hunched down towards him and his hand covered hers, the pills between them.

"I think so," he whispered, licking his lips slightly, his gaze focused completely on the bottle of pills. "His game is with me. He only dragged you into it because I did." At that, Sherlock looked up and met Molly's gaze. "I'm sorry for that, Molly. I never intended…I only wanted to keep all of you safe."

Molly bit her lip as she watched Sherlock fight to overcome the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him. She bent forward and kissed his forehead. "I'm not sorry, Sherlock. I wouldn't give you up for anything. Anything." She shifted and held up the bottle, opening the cap and staring at the pills inside. "He said they all had to go. I suppose that means three each?"

Sherlock nodded silently, unable to believe that this was truly happening. "It must be a fairly powerful and concentrated poison…" he noted clinically, his hand shaking as he held it out and Molly dumped three pills into his palm. "I'll take them first. Your body is smaller…it'll take more time for the poison to absorb in my body."

Molly was crying silently now and Sherlock was a bit taken aback to feel his own tears tracking down his cheeks. She handed him a cup of water and he quickly knocked back the pills. Molly followed suit after. Sherlock laid his head against Molly's knees and she brought a hand down to stroke through his hair. Whatever it was, it was fast acting – his vision was blurring and he felt weak.

"I love you, Sherlock," Molly whispered. He gathered his strength and brought up his hand to her lap, flexing his fingers in invitation to her. Her hand slipped into his, their fingers intertwining.

"Love you too, Molly," he whispered. Right after, he felt her grip weakening, her body going limp beneath his.

His world was darkening and he couldn't help but think that this was far more peaceful than he ever imagined dying by poison would be…

Something was wrong. His head was pounding and his mouth felt like he had shoved an entire bag of cotton balls inside it and…he should be dead. His eyes shot open and he immediately regretted it. The lights in Molly's office weren't as bright as in the morgue, but were still much brighter than he was prepared for.

Wait. Molly.

He forced his eyes to open again and he implored his sluggish limbs to move. She was slumped over her desk and his shaking hand sought out her pulse, sighing with relief as he found it. She moaned under his touch and slowly opened her eyes. "Sherlock? Why aren't we dead?"

"I don't….I don't know," he muttered, trying to fit the puzzle pieces together in his mind. It was then that he noticed an envelope sitting in front of him, addressed to 'Romeo and Juliet.' He sucked in a nervous breath and he felt Molly shift and lean forward. He opened it and pulled out the handwritten note.

Sherlock and Molly,

That was really quite a heartwarming scene to watch. Almost brought a tear to my eye. Molly-girl, you're lucky that Sherlock took the poison with you – all six pills would have killed you. And Sherlock, I rather think that you've shown your hand once again. Thanks for that.

You'll both be sick for the next few days. I'll wait until you're both feeling better to start playing our next game. Can't wait.

-Mxx

Sherlock had barely finished reading the letter before he was pulling out his phone and was calling Mycroft. "I need a car sent to Bart's right now, Mycroft. And I also need you to set up a safe house for Molly Hooper. It needs to be the most secure location you can think of." He hung up without another word and shakily got to his feet. "Are you all right, Molly? Can you stand? We need to get out of here; I don't know how long we've been unconscious."

Molly nodded and slowly stood up, grasping Sherlock's offered hand for support. Once she was standing, he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her up right. "I'm sorry, Sherlock," she murmured as he helped her gather her things and walk out of the morgue.

Sherlock wasn't entirely sure why she was apologizing, but Molly often felt responsible for things that were wholly out of her control. "Not your fault, Molly. None of this is your fault." They made it out the door and into the cool shade of the loading dock, the same place that Mycroft's car had picked them up after Sherlock's fall. Molly leaned heavily against Sherlock and he dropped a soft kiss on top of her head. "I will keep you safe, Molly. He won't get to you again." As Molly trembled beside him, he'd never felt more determined to finish this game once and for all.