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“So, there’s us, Molly and Sherlock and my boss and Joan Watson coming tonight?” Sally asked, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. It had been eight days since John and Sally went on their first date, a week since the arson case wrapped and Sherlock and Molly went on their first date and five days since Lestrade and Joan had gone out on theirs. John had made the suggestion that all of them see a play together, and they had all agreed. Holmes was not joining them because he had gone back to New York earlier in the morning to be with Irene. Right now, however, it was just John and Sally standing outside the theater. “John, this sounds like a recipe for disaster.”
“You’ve spent time with Greg before off the job, right?” John asked, breathing into his hands afterwards.
“Yeah, getting pissed over a bad case or something like that,” Sally said. “He’s my boss. And while I’m fine with Sherlock these days I get the feeling he’s going to complain through the entire play. Theater does not seem to be his thing.”
“Which is why his and Molly’s tickets are away from us and the others,” John said with a grin. “They’re all the way in the back. If he doesn’t like it they can leave and just meet us at the restaurant later.”
“That’s actually quite brilliant, John,” Sally said with a grin. “Your idea?”
John nodded. “Yes. I thought that might be best.”
“Where are ours?”
“The front row. Joan and Greg are the row behind us.” He held up a hand to wave as Greg and Joan approached. “Hello.”
“Hello,” Joan said with a smile. She was holding Lestrade’s hand as they approached. Whatever was going on between the two of them had progressed quickly, to the point that Joan had spent more time with Lestrade than anyone else, though most of it had been her helping on his murder case. “Is Sherlock here?”
“No, actually, he’s not,” John said with a frown as he checked his watch. “The play starts in a half hour. He said he would be here.”
“Is Molly meeting him here?” Lestrade asked.
“I thought she was,” John said.
“That’s going to be fun if she’s here and he’s not,” Sally said. “I can call her.”
“And I’ll call him,” John said. The two of them pulled out their phones and pulled up their friends. “Strange. It went straight to voicemail.”
“Hers too,” Sally said, lowering her phone. “Should we be worried?”
John looked at Greg and Joan. “Maybe they just want some privacy?” Joan suggested.
Sally made a slight face. “The idea of him and her like that is not something I wanted to think about.”
“Perhaps they just got wrapped up in conversation,” Greg said with a slight chuckle. “They are particularly close.”
“True. Well, we can leave their tickets at the door, and try again when the play is over. For all we know they’ll show up just in the nick of time, but I’m cold and I want to get inside,” John said. “Shall we?” The others nodded, and then they all went inside after leaving the tickets at the box office. John was slightly worried, but not too much. They could afford to not worry for a few hours. After all, what was the worst that could happen?
--
“I didn’t think it would be dangerous to date you,” Molly said, rubbing her wrists. They’d been bound by rope, and the person who had tied them to the back of the chair she’d been sitting in had not been particularly gentle, nor had he given her much room to move. “Should I have to worry about my safety every time we attempt to go out on a date?”
Sherlock held his arm slightly. She’d offered to reset his dislocated shoulder as soon as he had gotten her free, and he had allowed her, but she knew it had to have hurt. “The first date was not my fault. That car accident didn’t involve us in any way. You were the one who wanted to make sure everyone was all right.”
“I didn’t expect the driver to be an escaped felon,” she said with a sigh. “Can you get us out of here?”
“I can, but we need a weapon of some sort, and they took my gun.” He looked around the warehouse. Their captors had been lax in their duties, leaving them alone long enough for Sherlock to get them free. He stilled after a moment and put a finger to his lips. Molly stood still, then nodded so he could see she understood. He moved over towards the doorway and saw a piece of wood. He quietly picked it up, and when the door opened he hit the person who came through it in the face. He nearly dropped the wood because the pain shooting through his shoulder was intense, but he managed to hold on. “Check him for a gun, Molly.”
Molly came over and began rifling through the unconscious man’s pockets. She pulled out two guns and a knife. “Why do I get the feeling we weren’t supposed to make it out of here alive?” she asked.
“They probably wanted to extort something from my brother,” Sherlock said as she handed him one of the guns. “Do you remember what I showed you in how to use a gun?”
She nodded. “I’ve been practicing.”
“The next person we run across, aim to injure, not kill. Unless he has a gun out himself.” He looked at her. “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” she replied.
“Then let’s go.”
--
Three hours later the play finished and the people who had been viewing it spilled out onto the street, excited chatter becoming loud and grating on John’s nerves. He had gotten up a few times during the play to see if Sherlock and Molly had arrived, spending the entire intermission looking for them and calling Sherlock multiple times, but nothing. They were nowhere to be found. “This isn’t good,” he murmured.
“Still no sign of them?” Lestrade asked.
“No. And no messages, either,” John said. “I can’t believe they did this. Of all the nerve.”
“Should we be worried about them?” Joan asked, concern in her voice.
“I suppose so,” John said, looking at Lestrade and Sally, who both nodded. Then he sighed. “Dinner will have to wait, I guess.”
“We can head over to Scotland Yard and—“ Lestrade began when a cab pulled up. “Never mind.” Sherlock and Molly got out of the cab. Their clothes were dirty, and Sherlock was cradling his arm. “What the bloody hell happened to the two of you?”
“It’s a long story,” Molly said, looking at Sherlock. “We’ll explain it some other time.”
“We just wanted to let all of you know we are in fact alive,” Sherlock said. “Our cell phones have been destroyed, however, and I believe it is past time for me to get to a hospital.”
“I did not mess up resetting your shoulder,” Molly said.
“I’m not saying you did, but a sling would be nice,” Sherlock replied. “As would heavier duty non-narcotic pain medication.”
“You really are in pain, aren’t you?” Molly said, looking at Sherlock with genuine concern.
“Yes, I am,” he said with a nod. “Tomorrow. We will explain it all to you tomorrow.”
“Go enjoy dinner,” Molly said to the others. “It would be a shame to let the reservations go to waste.”
“Yes. Tomorrow we shall let all of you know what happened if Dimmock doesn’t tell you first.” Then Sherlock frowned. “Of course, it may be office gossip for the two of you tomorrow,” he said, looking at Lestrade and Sally. “Anderson looked just a bit too happy to see me like this.”
“He’s a prat,” Molly said, looking at Sherlock. “Come on. The only reason the paramedics let you go was because I told them I would make sure you got to a hospital.”
Sherlock looked at her and nodded. “Then we should be off.”
“Okay,” John said weakly. “Bye, I suppose.” Sherlock and Molly got back into the waiting cab, leaving the four of them slightly dumbstruck. It wasn’t until the cab had pulled away that John spoke again. “Do you get the feeling they had a very bad night?”
“I believe they did,” Sally said. “I can’t wait to hear the full story tomorrow. I believe it will be interesting, at the very least.”
“Well, they want us to go make the reservation,” Joan said. “We should probably hurry if we don’t want the table given to someone else.”
“Should we be celebrating after seeing them like that?” Lestrade asked as the four of them turned to walk towards the restaurant.
“Probably not, but I get the feeling that Sherlock is in good hands,” John said, reaching over for Sally’s hand. “And that’s the best we can hope for under the circumstances.”
“But it still feels wrong,” Lestrade said.
“We can call it a night, if you would like,” Joan said.
Lestrade was quiet for a moment, then shook his head. “I suppose we can go eat. After all, they told us to.”
“Then let’s hurry up and get out of the cold,” Sally replied. “We can always try again, I suppose.”
“Perhaps,” John said with a nod. “Maybe next time it will work out better.”
“Here’s hoping,” Joan replied.