THE WAR INSIDE MY HEAD

Hello all. I know what you're wondering…why is there a new fic when she hasn't even updated the ones she has opened, I know what it looks like but it's not what it seems. If you've followed me on Tumblr you may be familiar with quite a bit of this but it hasn't been completed yet. So, there are many things to look forward to. This started off as an anon fic in my askbox between myself and almightyalicia over there. I didn't know who she was for pretty much the majority of this story which I'm still breaking up into chapters and editing for any slip ups we had while writing it for the past couple months. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. More chapters will soon follow. Let me know what you think of this first tiny bit, yeah?

much love,

day

1.

The fifth time Molly found Sherlock on her couch, she knew that something was wrong. He was not bruised or battered. No signs of internal bleeding either. Yet his eyes look haunted. He was shaking terribly, his knuckles white from gripping onto his knees too hard. He looked up to meet her frightened gaze, then spoke in a lifeless manner.

"Molly, I," he gulped the lump down and continued, "tortured a man to death today. I watched him die while he pleads to live. I felt... Nothing."

Molly stood there for a brief moment just watching him. Trying to figure out whether he wanted her to say something. She felt compelled to say something. He looked so broken and shattered. He told her once that his mind was a storage space where he kept the most important of details; she didn't think this was something he'd like to remember. If he deleted it, it would be better.

She dropped her bag on the floor as she walked over to him slowly. Sitting down she stared straight ahead as she placed her hand over his. Her voice quiet and nearly catching a bit in her throat as she spoke to him. "I don't know if anything I say will be of much of use. You just want this to be over, so you can come back to John and everyone. There are many difficult things ahead that you'll have to do and for that I am truly sorry. I'm here despite that, Sherlock."

She held back the tears that were threatening to fall from her face at the thought of this man who she loved killing people, it hurt her most knowing that there was no semblance of remorse in his body about it. She was still there by his side.

He shot her an incredulous look, and said in an almost offended tone, "But that means... I'm turning into Mori-" "Don't." Molly cut his words, squeezing his hand and shaking her head slightly to stop him from saying his name. "You're not him." Sherlock opened his mouth to speak. She felt her heart sink as she repeated her words, almost as if she was trying to convince herself. He closed his jaws, swallowing his words. He looked at her glassy eyes, and then felt something aching inside him.

Sherlock wasn't sure what to do. The last time he made her upset, he ended up kissing her albeit on the cheek. The time after that she told him that she didn't count. He didn't think it was the time for any of that nor was he able to do much of anything but sit there and try not to say anything that could produce any of the tears that were welling up behind her brown eyes. Instead he grimaced, the only way he could smile or try to right now. He turned his hand under hers over and squeezed her back, muttered a rough, "thank you."

A single tear fell from Molly's eye as she returned a genuine smile. Sherlock felt his heart being squeezed, then realized how that was the first emotion he felt after the torture. He looked at Molly curiously, wondering what about her ignited that inside him. He cupped her face and wiped the tear off her face. But another tear fell as she shut her eyes. As it fell, he finally understood that the only thing roping him back from the brim of evil in this mission was this angel weeping before him.

Molly pushed his hands away; not wanting him to feel obligated to comfort her. She was supposed to be comforting him. After all he was the one who had risked his life for his friends with her small part in that and now he was stuck doing unspeakable things all because he cared.

He did care, and that was something Molly always knew as a fact. She just was waiting for him to realize before it was too late. Before this all had to happen. That's why she told him - the look of confusion that surfaced on his face at her motion of pushing him away.

"You have better things to do than worry about silly ole me. I'm supposed to be comforting you."

She let out a dry laugh. Taking a deep breath as her breathing came back to its normal pace. She was just being silly. None of this was about her. But, she was worried about him. She couldn't let his thoughts be deterred by her slip of emotion showing. That had never been a problem before.

Molly stood up and turned away from him, hoping to shy away from his persistent stare. She took one last deep breath and head to the kitchen. "I'm making tea, do you want any-" she spoke and turned around to find Sherlock right behind her. He was exceptionally close to her, allowing her to see how tender his gaze was, how the eyes have finally cleared up and the familiar shades of blue restoring its twinkle. He shook his head to decline the tea, kissed her left temple then left her flat.