She kept checking her phone and email, wishing someone would make contact. It had been three hours since she'd gotten Mycroft's text and every second she didn't hear from either of the Holmes brother's she got more nervous.
Please, don't let them go after Jim alone.
Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut but she'd had a long and hard day at work. Her boss still didn't view her as a real histopathologist, constantly looking for the tiniest slip up to make a big fuss about, and Jim's latest text had broken her down. If Sherlock hadn't come in, his eyes filling up with concern instantly, she'd have been able to take a breathe and try to let it go.
“Molly, what's wrong?” Sherlock's question, the soft tone of his voice and the real concern in his eyes and made her show him the text, rambling off everything that had happened since the accident and Sherlock's face had gone from shock to anger, to something she was too afraid to name.
Before she could even tell him no, Sherlock had left, coat floating behind him as the door closed with a bang and she'd instantly called Mycroft. Sherlock wasn't defenseless in a fight, but Jim wasn't one to play fair and she worried about what could happen if one of them lost their temper.
“Why didn't you tell us sooner, Molly?”
Mycroft's voice had been kind in her ear, but she'd flinched anyway. At first, she didn't think too much of it and was flattered in a way by Jim's texts. A small part of her delighted in the fact that he wanted her back and couldn't forget about her but soon the messages had gotten more violent and creepy. Then the calls had started, early in the morning, late at night. Changing her number didn't help, two weeks later it all started back up again. She'd been relieved, thinking it was finally over when the calls and texts suddenly stopped. But from their, it had only gotten worse.
She started seeing him everywhere, too short to really be sure, but she just knew he was watching her, following her. Then the calls had started again, more persistent and demanding. She'd gone to DI Lestrade but he couldn't do much if there wasn't an actual crime.
“The man is allowed to walk the streets, Molly. Keep a record of everything that's going on, that's all we advise at the moment. I'm sorry.”
She'd been doing that for about four months and she was starting to break. Feeling unsafe and hunted like a defenseless animal. And now, here she was, in her office, waiting to hear from Sherlock and Mycroft. Worried Jim had done something to both of them.
Please, please pick up!
Mycroft's last text had told her Sherlock's phone had pinged near Kingwood road and her worst fear had come true. Sherlock had gone to Jim.
She walked back and forth in her office, evening setting in and she could hear some of her coworkers get ready to go home. For a moment she hated them all, being able to just go home, not needing to worry about someone watching them, sending them texts, leaving creepy gifts by their door. Roses covered with worms, for example, horrible stories about rape and violence. Bad poetry about all the things he wanted to do with her, dirty underwear.
At least then the police took more notice, even bringing him to the station to question him but nothing stuck. No fingerprints on any of the gifts, no number that traced back to him, not the slightest proof that Jim was, in fact, the person making her life hell.
The sound of her phone made her jump up in the air, terrified when she noticed the unknown number. Her voice trembled when she picked up, heart standing still as she waited.
Relief floated through her when she heard Sherlock's voice, needing to sit down on her desk to prevent herself from falling. Tears started forming as she listened to Sherlock, happiness, and anger mixing together.
“You could have been killed, Sherlock!”
“Please, I can defend myself. Besides, Mycroft was here to help.”
“Wait, Mycroft is there too? What happened, are you both okay? Is Jim-”
She stopped, biting her lip, afraid to finished her question and she heard Sherlock sigh, could picture his eye roll from miles away.
“He's still alive. Unfortunately, we got interrupted.
“Don't start, Sherlock!”
“Lestrade is there?!” Molly blinked her eyes, placing a hand on her heart as she heard mumbling in the background. Then DI Lestrade's voice filled her ear.
“Hey, Mycroft called me. You don't have to worry any longer, Molly. What we found here-” A significant pause before Greg started again. “It's enough to lock him away for life.”
“Let's just say you have horrible taste in men and from now on I'm doing a background check on any potential date.”
Molly laughed when she heard Mycroft and Sherlock argue, feeling like she was able to breathe for the first time in a long time. She didn't need to know the whole story right now, all that mattered was that her friends were safe and Jim was gone.
“Sherlock? Can- can you come back now? I'll buy dinner. Tell Mycroft to come too.”
“Not pizza, I'm fed up with pizza.” Molly smiled as she heard Mycroft from afar, shaking her head before answering.
“No pizza, I promise. Th- Thank you, both of you.”
“You're our friend Molly, do you really think we wouldn't do anything about this?”
Sherlock's voice was a fraction too hard and guilt entered as she searched for words.
“I. I didn't want to-”
“We'll always be here for you, Molly. Don't be ashamed to ask for our help.”
Now it was impossible to talk, tears clouding her vision and she swallowed back the lump in her throat.
“We'll see you soon, Molly. Don't go home, we'll pick you up.”
“O-okay. See you soon.”
Her hands were trembling as she pocketed her phone, putting on her coat and closing of her office. She didn't know what she'd done to earn the Holmes brother's friendship but she was going to do her best to not screw it up. They were guardian angels after all. Her personal guardian angels.