#angry watson

[myloveofwords]

When She Needed Me. Part Five

Original Artwork: http://lexieken.deviantart.com/art/30DOTP-Sherlolly-Day24-Making-up-afterwards-366982744

Reader Gender: It Switches - John, Sherlock, Molly

Word Count: 1,182

Warnings: brief kidnapping/ violence/ slight language/  

Summary/ Author’s notes: This was originally a one shot, but it grew into something more. I love it! just a sweet little story that was inspired by a wonderful piece of artwork! So shout out to the artist! You are incredible! Whooo-hooo!

Part One - Molly Part Two - Sherlock Part Three - Molly Part Four - Sherlock

                                                            John

"They've stopped at St. James, I'm going to call Lestrade, you wait there for backup. Do you hear me? Sherlock? SHERLOCK? God Damn It." John slammed his fist on the table as he dialed the number to call Greg. "Greg, Sherlock needs backup at St. James, Someone kidnapped Molly and he went after them. It's not going to end well. And tell your men not to engage under any circumstances! Understand?" Greg started yelling orders and John hung up, he then looked back to the computer screen.

The realization hit John like a ton of bricks, He saw the little blinking red light that indicated where Molly's phone was.

It had stopped, it was in a narrow street, it was dark outside. Jesus Christ.

John grabbed his coat and ran through the house, yelling as he ran out the door. "Mary, I've got to go help Sherlock."

John hailed a cab and told the cabbie to step on it, and he counted the seconds that passed by. Ten minutes, not bad timing, but not great.

When John got there the police had already blocked off the street. He walked over and Greg pointed to a huddled mass on the floor of the street. "He hasn't moved since I got here, we need to see if she is okay John."

John nodded and walked slowly toward Sherlock. The closer he got, the more the bad feeling in his gut intensified.

He gently laid his hand on Sherlock's shoulder. He waited and Sherlock finally said "I wasn't there John. She needed me."

John Watson knew Sherlock Holmes better than anyone, and in all the time he had known him, he had never once seen him cry.

John sank down onto his knees and gently said "You were there. You stopped it before it could go any further. It's better late than never."

Sherlock shook his head, "John, he TOUCHED her." John met Sherlock's gaze and what he saw was something that scared him.

Sherlock's eyes were darker than he had ever seen them, the fierce intensity that was normally there was replaced with cold, calculated hatred. They shared eye contact for a moment, and then John got up and walked over to the police calmly.

When he reached Greg he said "Where is he?" Greg looked at him and pointed over to the ambulance.

Without another word John calmly walked over to the man, took one of the officers guns and pointed it right between the bastard's eyes.

No one touched him but there was a big clamor, and all the officers started yelling and shouting.

John simply ignored them and looked at the man. "Do you have any idea what you might have done here? Sherlock Holmes is one tragedy away from killing people at will. IF SHE DIES YOU WILL BE THE FIRST PERSON HE COMES AFTER. And trust me, you will not die easily.... He will torture you.... Then torture you some more...." John's eyes went dark and dangerous.

"Then once he's killed you, I WILL BRING YOU BACK SO WE CAN START THE WHOLE FUCKING PROCESS OVER AGAIN. You will never die.... You will simply suffer. So, you better pray to god that she doesn't die." John turned and returned the gun to the officer and walked calmly back to Sherlock.

When he got back, Sherlock hadn't moved. John put his hand on his shoulder once more and went over to Molly to examine her. He noted the defensive marks and then checked her pupil reactions. "Sherlock I think she'll be alright."

Sherlock's shoulders fell as if he had been holding his breath, and his eyes closed. "Thank you John."

John nodded and stood up, Sherlock quickly following behind with Molly in his arms. Sherlock walked through the crowd and walked right past the ambulance.

Greg and the paramedics hurried after him, shouting cries of concern. Sherlock simply walked to the street with John by his side, and didn't stop even when he heard Greg say "Sherlock! She needs to be looked at by a doctor!"

Sherlock simply shrugged as John hailed a cab, and then turned and looked Greg right in the eyes and said "Greg, she has already been looked at by a doctor." He smirked at John and then shrugged in the cab. John laughing at Greg's flabbergasted expression at Sherlock using his actual name.

[myloveofwords]

When She Needed Me. Part Four

Original Artwork: http://lexieken.deviantart.com/art/30DOTP-Sherlolly-Day24-Making-up-afterwards-366982744

Reader Gender: It Switches - John, Sherlock, Molly

Word Count: 1,182

Warnings: brief kidnapping/ violence/ slight language/  

Summary/ Author’s notes: This was originally a one shot, but it grew into something more. I love it! just a sweet little story that was inspired by a wonderful piece of artwork! So shout out to the artist! You are incredible! Whooo-hooo!

Part One - Molly Part Two - Sherlock Part Three - Molly

                                                        Sherlock

Sherlock stood there for a good while, not moving, not breathing. Going over the conversation in his head. She had looked so cross, he was used to her anger towards him, but this was different.

She looked like she almost hated him, and the thought knocked the breath out of him. He realized that she had finally snapped, and she had every right too. He treated her like dirt, but that was only because he didn't know how else to treat her. She was different than all the other women he knew. She wasn't scared to put him in his place, she wasn't scared to be brutally honest with him, and now he couldn't imagine his life without her. He heard his best friend yell when he walked in the lab "WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU DO NOW?"

His mouth turned up on one corner, but then fell again. He couldn't smile, the one thing that had counted most to him in the world, had just walked out of his life.

He looked up at John with a broken expression and a tear escaped his eye. His expression turned to a confused one as his hand make his way to the liquid falling from his face. He touched the water on his cheek, and looked at it quizzically.

He made eye contact with John, and John saw the estonished look in his eyes. Sherlock simply said "I think I love her John." John rolled his eyes dramatically at him and said "Well, no shit Sherlock."

Sherlock shook his head, and asked "What do I do John?" John walked over to him and laid his hand on Sherlock's shoulders and forcefully pushed him as he told him "Go tell her."

He ran down the stairs and out of the hospital. He frantically looked all around him and in a single terrified moment, he thought she was gone.

He then spotted her white lab coat and took off running. His could hear his feet hitting the pavement, he could feel his heartbeat in his ears, he could feel the anticipation growing in the swell of his stomach.

He realized a smile was plastered on his face, and his determination set into hyperdrive. She was not getting away, then he blinked and she disappeared.

His pace slowed and he frantically turned and looked around. The swell of anticipation quickly turned to one of fear and panic. Where in the hell is she? What happened to her? What if she is in trouble?

He turned suddenly and saw Molly being forced into a cab, and he shoved and pushed his way towards her. He yelled and screamed, but she was too far away.

He quickly pulled out his phone and called John. John answered immediately "How long until she slapped you?"

Sherlock frantically told John to locate her cell phone, and that she had just been forced into a cab by a man. When John heard the urgency in Sherlock's voice he immediately entered into soldier mode. His questions became short and to the point, his abilities became super fast, and within seconds John was telling Sherlock an address.

In an instant Sherlock was running again, with John dictating directions into his ear. "Turn right on Giltspur Street."

Now with somewhere to go Sherlock ran faster, he ran without stopping. Sliding on the hood of a car in the fork on the road, not losing any time. "Right onto New Change."

It was a straight away on New Change, so Sherlock sprinted harder, feeling the fatigue in his legs. "Left on Cannon"

John's authoritative voice booming through the phone. "They've stopped at St. James, I'm going to call Lestrade, you wait there for backup. Do you hear me? Sher-"

Sherlock clicked the phone off and ran to the church. His legs and lungs were burning, but he keep going.

When he reached the church, he saw two images in the dark. Then he heard a woman's yelps. His blood was instantly on fire. Every inch of him went red, every molecule in his body felt as if it was one thousand degrees. In a single moment, Sherlock Holmes had become a psychopath.

Within a second, he was yelling and hurling himself toward the man who was attempting to harm Molly. The man turned around when he saw Sherlock, and Molly fell to the street.

Sherlock saw the man's gun in his hand, then he saw blood on the handle. A couple seconds ago played back in his brain, Molly had a gash above her right eyebrow.

This man had hit HIS Molly, WITH A FUCKING GUN. Without time to think, Sherlock knocked the gun from the man's hand, and his fist made contact with the mans face. He felt the pain of his punch radiate through his knuckles. He felt the spit from the man's mouth on his hand, he felt the red hot rage gradually escalating inside him causing him to make contact with the man's face again.

He heard the sirens coming closer, but he couldn't force himself to stop. His fist hit the man's face, over and over again.

Sherlock lost himself in his rage and his hand and shirt was covered in the criminal's blood when he heard Molly from behind him "Sherlock."

All she did was mumble his name and he stopped, all his muscles froze and locked in place. His head whipped around and looked at Molly, sitting on the cold hard pavement, and her head laying at an awkward angle.

Sherlock's heart broke as he threw the man on the floor and ran over to Molly, he gently took her head and laid it against the cold steel bars behind her head. He gently sat down beside Molly and laid her unconscious body on his.

Her head fell onto his shoulder and he felt the tear slither down his face as he sat there and looked at her.

He found himself pleading with her "Please, Molly. Come back to me. I need you, I can't do this without you."

He sat there in the dark alley, with his hands grasping his legs to him and his head laying on his knees.

He saw the police lights on the ground, and he heard the sirens down the alley.

He didn't move, he just sat there not breathing. For an instant he thought about the life he would have if she was dead, and the thought scared him beyond anything else.

This man had been through a lot, multiple serial killers, multiple psychopaths, and he never even flinched. What broke this man was the fact that the one time his sweet fiery pathologist needed him the most, he wasn't there quick enough.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and his grip tightened around his knees, pulling his knees closer to him. He heard John's voice and that usually soothed him, but in this case, it didn't.

Sherlock didn't move, he simply said "I wasn't there John.... She needed me." Those three little words, and Sherlock Holmes started crying.

[myloveofwords]

When She Needed Me. Part Three

Original Artwork: http://lexieken.deviantart.com/art/30DOTP-Sherlolly-Day24-Making-up-afterwards-366982744

Reader Gender: It Switches - John, Sherlock, Molly

Word Count: 1,129

Warnings: brief kidnapping/ violence/ slight language/  

Summary/ Author’s notes: This was originally a one shot, but it grew into something more. I love it! just a sweet little story that was inspired by a wonderful piece of artwork! So shout out to the artist! You are incredible! Whooo-hooo!

Part One - Molly Part Two - Sherlock Part Three - Molly

                                                           Molly

Molly was up to her elbows in Mr. Jones' body cavity, attempting to get past the fat on the old man in order to complete her autopsy. She had heard Sherlock enter the lab earlier that morning and had ignored him to the best of her ability.

You have to understand, a man like Sherlock Holmes demands attention when he walked into a room. She was used to him, in fact since John had moved out of 221B, he had slowly opened up to her and become a good friend. Well, as good as a friend a man like Sherlock was capable of. Until recently she thought that he had just completely ignored her presence. She told herself that she was imagining things when she would catch him looking at her when she was working. Neither of them would ever mention it, they just worked around it. They had a system, and the system worked.

The rotten smell of dead flesh waifed across Molly's face, and her nose instantly scrunched up. When she thought she had the organ she needed to retrieve in her grasp, a piece of her hair fell, blocking her view. She sighed dramatically and her shoulders slouched, damnit, she thought to herself. She attempted to blow it out of her face, and looked angrily at the piece of hair when it fell right back in front of her face. She then slung her head to the side in another attempt to remove the hair from her face. She gave up, and continued to work around her hair.

She hadn't noticed that Sherlock had moved until she felt him gently tuck her hair behind her ear. Her body was suddenly very aware of the man behind her. She felt her back straighten, her heart beat accelerate, and her eyes open wide.

She jumped slightly to the touch of his skin, and in an instant, her backside was plastered to his hips. She stood perfectly still, scared that she was going to wake up from a dream, and it would all be over. She felt every muscle in her stomach tighten as his hands slid around her waist. She took a deep breath in, and forced it out and felt her muscles relax into the man behind her. Her eyes drifted shut as she memorized this feeling, she felt safe. A feeling that she never realized that she liked so much. Maybe it was just Sherlock, maybe she was just lonely, but at that moment it didn't matter. She was in Sherlock's arms, and everything seemed right. Then she snapped her eyes open and forced herself to concentrate. What in the hell am I doing? No, the better question is what in the hell is HE doing?

She felt his nose in her hair and thought is he smelling my hair? She attempted to talk, but her voice came out shaky and rattled, "S-Sherlock, w-what are you d-doing?" She felt his nose at her ear as he whispered "Hush, it's an experiment." She stood there dumbfounded as a crazy man held her in her arms. That thought should have scared her much more than it did, and the fact that it didn't wasn't a good sign. What is he thinking? Is he trying to get something out of me? What is happening? Is he dying? Is he okay? Oh, god, he's going to die.

All these thoughts were swirling around in her head and then gone. He was suddenly gone from behind her and she felt utterly alone. What in the hell was that? WHAT IN THE HELL WAS THAT? Asshole, feels me up and then just leaves. That is SO like him. Of course he didn't really feel me up, maybe it was just a friendly gesture. No, he was smelling my hair. WHAT KIND OF PERSON. . . It's Sherlock. I'm over analyzing this. I need to calm down. I need to breathe.

She removed her hands from Mr. Jones and turned to face the chair he was sitting in. Before she could stop them the words came spilling out "WHAT IN THE HELL SHERLOCK?" She looked at the chair and realized she was yelling at no one and she threw her hands up in the air dramatically.

She angrily yelled "Why must I love a complete psychopath!" Instinctively she threw her face in her hands, smearing her face with the blood from Mr. Jones. She sighed deeply and her head fell, the words left her with a desperation and loneliness that she had been fighting for a long time "I'm done. I can't do this anymore."

She jumped when she heard his low baritone voice "I'm not a psychopath." She laughed angrily as he walked over to the sink to wash her face off "oh, sorry Sociopath."

She sneared the words at him angrily as she cleaned the rest of her face off. She rolled her eyes at his inquiry "Are you cross with me?" The laugh that left her was thunderous and obnoxious. She turned to rip him a new one, but what she found was that he was genuinely concerned. She sighed deeply as she tried to manage her anger but failed miserably "I'm done, Sherlock. I've took a lot of crap from you over the years. Over and over again you seem like you're a half decent person, then you turn around and do something completely inappropriate. You are not allowed to touch me like that again, do you understand?"

She stood, her whole five feet three inches, staring straight up into Sherlock's eyes. She saw something flash across his face, but couldn't quite identify what it was. Then he opened his mouth and then closed it.

Trying to prove her point, she forcefully asked "Understand?" The look in his eyes was one that she had never seen before. He was torn, he had no idea what to do.

Then the realization hit her, maybe he did want this. She waited patiently and then he said "I apologize, I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry Molly."

Her body deflated, her heart hurt, and her eyes stung with unshed tears. He made his decision, and she couldn't stop her mouth as it blurted "I love you Sherlock, I love you more than anything. I'm sorry I'm not enought for you."

The tears began to roll and she grabbed her coat and purse and ran out of the hospital. She took the stairs, not wanting anyone she worked with to see the tears flowing freely from her face. The tears stung from where they streamed down her face, and her eyes were sore from the sudden outburst. She walked out of the hospital, carrying what little she dignity she had in her grasp.

[myloveofwords]

When She Needed Me. Part Two

Original Artwork: http://lexieken.deviantart.com/art/30DOTP-Sherlolly-Day24-Making-up-afterwards-366982744

Reader Gender: It Switches - John, Sherlock, Molly

Word Count: 520

Warnings: brief kidnapping/ violence/ slight language/  

Summary/ Author's notes: This was originally a one shot, but it grew into something more. I love it! just a sweet little story that was inspired by a wonderful piece of artwork! So shout out to the artist! You are incredible! Whooo-hooo!

Part One - Molly Part Two - Sherlock

                                                        Sherlock 

12 HOURS EARLIER

Sherlock Holmes was not an easy man to get along with. A concept that his friends reminded him of daily.

This day had been like any other, the morgue was cold and the smell of death hung loosely in the air. He peered up over his microscope and watched the petite pathologist with her arms elbow deep in the latest cadaver. His head tilted as he watched her work, he does this often, he loved watching her. But he had just recently realized that he was in fact; watching her, a lot more than he was willing to admit.

A smile slowly crept up on his lips as he watched her scrunch her nose up at the smell. She was a beautiful woman. He had finally allowed himself to admit that simple fact, it wasn't anything huge. Molly Hooper was attractive, when she wanted to be. He watched the way her hips moved when she worked, and his gaze slowly lingered on her subtle backside.

He immediately snapped himself out of it and straightened up, averting his eyes from Molly. He worked for about five seconds when he found his gaze slowly making its way back to her. She had her hair down today, and he watched as a piece of hair fell in front of her face. He chuckled lightly when she groaned and slung her head to the side in a failed attempt to remove the hair from her face.

He found himself watching her for a couple seconds and then watched as she gave up and went back to her work. He smiled, rose from his seat, and before he knew what he was doing he was standing right behind Molly. She obviously wasn't paying attention and he could have walked away and she would have never known, but he was close enough to smell the soft hint of lavender and vanilla coming from her hair. He breathed in deeply and held the smell in his nostrils. He then gently reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, and she jumped slightly in response, causing her backside to collide with his crotch. His breath caught in his throat and he held the breath there, not wanting to move. His hands slowly lifted up and slid around her waist, securing her tightly to him. He leaned in and inhaled the smell of her though his nostrils. She stood perfectly still and then shakily said "S-Sherlock, w-what are you d-doing?" He smiled into her hair, "Hush, it's an experiment." He then breathed in deeply one last time, allowing himself this moment, and storing it in his mind palace.

He released her waist reluctantly and chuckled when she still stood perfectly still as he went back to his seat and sat back down. She never once even looked at him, it surprised him. He then realized that there was an uncomfortable pressure in his pants. He looked down and saw his pants had tented, and then sighed deeply, frustrated with himself, as he got up and went to the restroom to try and soften his manhood.

[myloveofwords]

When She Needed Me. Part One

Original Artwork: http://lexieken.deviantart.com/art/30DOTP-Sherlolly-Day24-Making-up-afterwards-366982744

Reader Gender: It Switches - John, Sherlock, Molly

Word Count: 454

Warnings: brief kidnapping/ violence/ slight language/  

Summary/ Author's notes: This was originally a one shot, but it grew into something more. I love it! just a sweet little story that was inspired by a wonderful piece of artwork! So shout out to the artist! You are incredible! Whooo-hooo! 

Part One - Molly Part Two - Sherlock Part Three - Molly Part Four - Sherlock Part Five - John

                                                       Molly 

She clung desperately to his black dress shirt, thinking idly that she couldn't let go. She felt her fingers tighten and saw them turning bright red under her intense grip. Her petite body was still shaking violently, and she could do nothing but sit there and shake in the strong arms of this man. Yes, she would allow this man to hold her close as she shook violently in her own bathtub. She could feel the cold porcelain on her back and on her rear. She could also feel the warmth that radiated off of the man she was clinging desperately to.

Molly Hooper is no coward, in fact she is the exact opposite, but when she was kidnapped by a stranger with a gun, she felt an awful lot like a coward.

Her knees had locked suddenly, and her breath had become ragged. Her head had started swimming in depressing thoughts and trying to calculate the best way for her to run, but when she tried to move, her body would not comply.

She remembered the pure shock and terror that ran through her veins, she worked with the dead daily, but she had never thought about what would happen when she was the poor pathetic corpse on the table. She remembered being forced into a cab and taken across town. She remembered jumping out of the cab and running down Skinner's Lane.

She remembered the terror that was going through her as he caught up with her. She remembered the feel of the strangers hot sticky breath on her neck as he leaned in and whispered in her ear, she remembered the tear that escaped her eye as he groped her from behind.

She had tried thrashing and kicking and attempting to get away, but she had failed. Her assailant had to be at least 6'3, and was much bigger than her. She closed her eyes and she could still feel his cold menacing embrace, trapping her. She remembered the flash of hatred that flared through her veins as she thought of Sherlock, and found herself wishing he would come rescue her. She remembered the heat that radiated from her face as she felt the perverts hands ever so slowly reaching lower and lower on her body.

She remembered the cold, she remembered the smell of dirt and water that clung to the air, she even remembered her hands balling up into fists at her sides. She remembered the assailant's grip loosening and she turned suddenly and slapped him, she even remembered the flash of intense pain in her head when he hit her with the handle of the gun. The one thing that she can't remember is how she got away.