A/N: So my previous one-shot, Knowledge, really was rather sad and people were kind of clamouring for a continuation of it. So, I wrote one. It's still melancholy because that's what the air around me feels like at the moment. Nothing Christmas-y for sure. Anyway, there might be more to come. We'll let the Sherlolly in my head dance for a bit and see how they wish to conclude their own little piece. :) Thank you for reading. You have no idea how much it means to me. x Happy Christmas :)
Truth
So. We meet again, heart.
The rows of numbers were still making sense as Sherlock's eyes scanned the documents expertly.
The beating of a heart is necessary for life.
There had to be a match in all the blood samples Sherlock had gathered. If he could find one, it was a step closer to establishing his case.
If the heart beats regularly, the beat becomes silent.
It would certainly have been faster if Molly had been here. She was always so quick with the numbers.
The heart, therefore, unnoticeable.
But Sherlock could manage, surely. He was as much of an expert as she was.
When a beat steps out of its rhythm, an irregularity is formed.
Just as he was on the second page, he thought two of the columns seemed to match. He was this close to finding what he was expecting to find.
Where there is an irregularity, there is an ache.
But no, he had not found it. One number was off by a single decimal place.
Where there is an ache, there is a reminder.
Molly would have known what to do. And she would have done it faster. Wait, didn't she always read the columns a certain way? Sherlock tried his best to remember.
There is a reminder of a single, most important truth.
Yes, he had the same reference sheets that she would use. He had followed the correct reading sequence so as to find potential matches in the blood work. Had he missed something?
And this truth, surpasses all knowledge.
Sherlock put the papers down and sighed. He pulled out his mobile phone and spun it casually on the stack of analyses. Perhaps he should give Molly a call. Surely she could still answer a call, even with a headache?
The truth is that I have heart.
Maybe he should see her instead. It was always better with Molly around. Sherlock began to pack the stack of papers and returned his mobile to his pocket.
I have a heart, and it has an ache.
Sherlock stepped out of Bart's and hopped into a taxi. He told the driver to please drive a little faster.
Do I now look flustered?
The driver had made that unnecessary observation just because Sherlock had told him to hurry up.
I suppose, I am.
For Sherlock was in a hurry to see someone.
End