Deerstalker - a Sherlolly story

Where there's smoke...

“Turn left,” Molly instructed Sherlock as they flew through the dark streets.

Once again her heart was racing, but this time it was because of Sherlock’s proximity or the speed they were going at.  The sense of excitement had been replaced by worry and fear. But mostly, confusion. As they turned into the street that led up to the sawmill, questions flooded her mind. What is going on with David? Why did they have to go to the bonfire? Was he in danger?

She had no time to answer them, though, because soon enough the mill came in sight. When they reached it, Molly could hear excited voices filling the cool night’s air. Sherlock hit the brakes and helped her off the bike with an almost automatic movement. For a split-second his eyes locked with hers. Molly could feel them burning into her, pleading her to trust him. To not be afraid as long as he was beside her. In response she swallowed once , then gave him the bravest look she could muster. Without further hesitation, his pale hand grabbed her shaking one and started pulling her towards the mill. They ran like shadows, her heels and his dress shoes soundlessly sinking into the wet grass.

The feverish talking growing louder as they swiftly moved around the old mill. Molly could the tension in her muscles, the icy air in her lungs and the nausea in her stomach. A stark contrast with Sherlock. It unsettled her to see him moving so smoothly through the dark, seeming perfectly at ease, even more than he did while dancing.

When they had almost reached the back of the mill, Molly started to make out several tall shadows standing  in the field behind the large wooden structure. It became evident that they were the source of all the clamor. Some of the dark figures moved around wildly, gesturing exaggeratedly to their friends. Even Molly could understand that without certain liquids in their system people did not behave this way.

Molly was still moving forward – towards the buzzing crowd – when Sherlock suddenly stopped. Molly and Sherlock blended with the shadows of the saw mill, so they could observe the  boisterous figures without being spotted themselves.

“We’re not going to wait any longer on that asshole! I want fire!” Molly recognized Bobby’s - one of David’s friends - voice. This meant she had been right about the location. 

“Hey! David may be an ass, but he’s still my friend. So watch your dumbass mouth!” She froze, realizing Sherlock had been correct. Something was going on with David. He had not shown up for the bonfire, just like he hadn’t shown up at her front door.

Before she could consider what this meant, Molly received a painful squeeze in her hand. Sherlock. One boy from Bobby’s group had turned around and seemed to be gazing at the back of the mill, exactly where they stood. The harsh crushing of her delicate finger bones had been a warning sign. Very slowly, but deliberately, Sherlock started to lead her sideways. Towards a large shed – probably a storage place for the wood from the mill - that was only separated several feet from where the intoxicated group was standing. Close, but painting tall shadows, it was the perfect hiding spot.

When they stepped out of the shadows to reach their hide-out, Molly could almost feel her heart beat out of her chest. What if they would see her? Would they be angry? Would they hurt of humiliate her? On the other hand, she sort of knew them. So why was Sherlock being so secretive? Luckily, the staring boy had turned around and was now laughing loudly with his friends.

Without anyone noticing they reached the wooden storage. As soon as Molly and Sherlock crouched down behind it, she let out an anxious breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. She felt safer now, less exposed. She got another adrenaline jolt soon after, though. Billy was moving towards the shed, several small planks of wood and a large bottle in his hand. Sherlock’s eyes went wide, as he tried to make clear to Molly to be very quiet. They could hear Billy put the planks down on the other side of the shed.  He had come to close for them to see, but when they heard some sort of liquid hit the wood they knew Billy was emptying his bottle on the planks.