Maybe It's Just My Type

I'm an American trying to write Mofftiss Sherlock so this might be shit, but I thought I'd give it a go. Let me know what you think.

Molly stumbles up the steps of 221B Baker Street. She leans against the door. She feels around for the nob. Her vision is tinted red, probably from the blood running down her face and into her eyes, she thinks. She turns the knob and uses the weight of her body to open the door. She sees him sitting in his chair as always, eyes closed, probably trying to figure out a complex problem.

"Sherlock." The name comes out as a whisper, but it's enough to get his attention.

Sherlock springs from his chair, "Molly," catching her as she falls to the ground.

Sherlock picks her up and places her on the couch. "Molly, what happened? Molly stay with me."

"Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson enters the room. "Oh my."

"Mobile." Sherlock holds out his hand. Mrs. Hudson grabs his phone from the table and hands it to him. He dials without looking.

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John walks onto the dance floor focused on Mary entering from the other side in a stunning ball gown. The band starts to play a beautiful slow song. John and Mary start to move around the floor.

"This is nice." Mary says.

"Quite right." John smiles at his wife. "No interruptions, No Sher…"

Mary puts her finger on his lips. "Don't say his name. If you say it he appears."

"Mary, he's not going to pop out of nowhere because I say Sherlock."

"John."

John turns around to see Sherlock standing behind him. "Oh for God sakes."

"Sherlock what are you doing here?"

"John you need to wake up."

"What?"

"WAKE UP!"

John opens his eyes to a black room. His phone rings on the bedside table. He looks at the caller ID then picks it up.

"I swear to God Sherlock if this is one of your…"

"John I need you to come to Baker Street right away. Molly was attacked."

"I'm on my way."

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"What happened?" John says kneeling next to Molly still lying on the couch. He pulls things out of his bag.

"I don't know. She's not fully conscious."

"Molly." John says loudly trying to get her attention. "Molly I need you to open your eyes for me." Mary pulls a gauze patch out of John's bag and starts to stop the blood gushing out of her head.

John shines a light into Molly's eyes. Molly grunts a bit.

"Molly, I need you to stay awake. You might have a concussion."

"Okay." She whispers. Molly's arm falls off the couch. Sherlock put's it back.

"Take her hand." Mary says.

"What?" Sherlock says.

"Take her hand."

"Why? It's not going to do anything."

"It will comfort her."

Sherlock reaches out and takes her hand. She closes her hand just a bit around his.

"We need to get her to Bart's." John says.

"My car's just outside." Mary says.

Sherlock picks Molly up, cradling her in his arms as he skillfully manages his way down the stairs to the car.

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"Molly, you still with me?" Watson says.

"Yes." Molly lies in a hospital bed surrounded by Mary, Sherlock, and Mrs. Hudson.

"Can you tell me what happened? Who did this to you?"

"We got into a fight. I don't know what happened. It's like he just snapped."

Mary takes Molly's hand. "Molly, did Tom do this to you?"

Molly nods slightly. Sherlock turns on the spot and heads out of the room. John follows him.

"Sherlock, where are you going?"

"Where do you think?"

"I want to get him too, but she needs us right now."

"No, she needs doctors. She needs you to do what you do. I'm going to do what I do."

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Sherlock knocks on the hotel door. He keeps knocking till the door opens.

A half asleep Lestrade stands at the door. "Sherlock? What in the name of…"

"I need your help to find someone."

"Who?"

"Tom."

"Molly's Tom."

Sherlock grimaces, "Yes."

"It's one in the morning."

"His life is being threatened."

"By who?"

"By me."

That's what I have so far. Do you want me to continue?