Of course I own nothing of Sherlock. Except bills lots of damn bloody bills!
Hello, dear readers this story is an odd one. You will most likely hate it. A few lovely readers have informed me that they would willingly read anything of mine…Well; this story will perhaps test that. I will understand completely if no one likes it. But first I must share why I'm unsure about it… in hopes that you will understand my serious doubts I have about this story.
I thought of this while in the hospital, scared and in lots of pain. I'm doing better (I'm out and doing okay) but still at times…I'm annoyed with my body. Anyway, before surgery and after I attempted to go to my happy place which is Sherlock Holmes. The original stories danced as well as my own and other talented stories …in my mind and while in crazy pain…This story came to me. It's…weird. Very weird!
It's going to have four parts, maybe even five. It's a bit dark but the dark part is what I took from a Holmes story by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle….The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax.
I don't go into how or why Molly was taken in this story but I deal with the aftermath. Those that are not familiar or simply need a friendly reminder Frances Carfax was placed inside a coffin with a corpse and nearly buried alive. In my story Molly is the one in the coffin and she was buried alive. Sherlock as in the original saves the Lady or in this case his lady. The story I'm writing as I've stated deals with the aftermath and how Sherlock and Molly will end up together…happily ever after. For there will be a happy ending.
I have always been haunted by the brilliant Jeremy Brett episode that featured the Lady Frances story. End shot where the lady is simply seating there so remote almost as if she was still in that coffin ready to come out even though Sherlock Holmes had rescued her… and the man who faithfully loved her behind her…simply waiting…perhaps hoping that the woman he fell so passionately in love with will enter those blank eyes once more…As I said that episode was so damn haunting…It bothered me even more when I replaced that woman mentally with Molly…
Anyway, for better or worse…sadly I do hope it's not for the worse…Here is my latest 'weird' story.
I do hope some of you will enjoy. Be well and countless hugs.
~*~The Disappearance~*~
~*~Part 1 ~*~
'Who knows, Watson? Woman's heart and mind are insoluble puzzles to the male…'
-The Illustrious Client by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
'She is a stray chicken in a world of foxes.'
-The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
~*~SHERLOCK~*~
"This is not your Y-cut." Sherlock Holmes stated looking down at the body upon the slab at Bart's Morgue; with a dark upset frown as if not seeing Molly's own personal Y-cut before him…Was somehow a personal affront to everything that he might have held dear.
Molly Hooper simply blinked at him numbly before she pointed out quite reasonably, "You know that there are others here that work on bodies, Sherlock. I am in no way expected to work on every single body that comes through that door. It would in no way be possible or even logical."
Sherlock shot her an annoyed look before explaining, "Personally, I prefer it when you work on the bodies for whatever case I'm working on."
"You know that can't always happen! Plus, no one around here is a psychic. No one knows which body is going to interest you from day by day." Unknowingly Molly's tone was completely unemotional, her face closed off and blank. So unlike her normal self that it made Sherlock straighten sharply. His frown much deeper as his unblinking eyes studied her closely.
A second later something flashed quickly within his intelligent eyes before Sherlock ended up looking honestly confused for a brief moment. He shifted awkwardly upon his feet, which seemed so rare for him, before he cleared his throat.
"So…How are you?" He questioned. There seemed to be genuine concern in his voice, there was none of his normal disdain.
Eventually, after a long staring contest that Molly lost she replied remotely, not even sure she even cared really…"Do you really want to know?"
She had no idea that her tone was just as emotionless…So unlike her, until recently that is.
Sherlock gave her a genuine look of puzzlement, as if he had suddenly stumbled upon something that he would never quite understand.
The look cleared as he took a deep breath before saying… "Well, yes. So tell me, are you better? Have you finally gotten over being buried alive with a corpse?"
Molly went utterly motionless before saying softly and coldly, "Get out."
"Ah, I'm guessing that I should take that as a 'no' then? When do you think you'll get over it?" Sherlock asked.
"GET OUT!" Molly thundered as she gestured towards the door. This time her eyes and face as well as her tone was actually full of life.
Which Sherlock thought was an improvement.
"But I'm still looking at Abernetty's body!" He protested.
"You get the hell out of here, Sherlock, now before I slap you so hard your teeth will still be rattling for a whole week afterwards!" Molly told him quite heatedly, her dark eyes glittered with anger. At least her coldness and her unnatural emotionlessness seemed to have finally disappeared.
Sherlock blinked at her slowly with a completely blank look on his face before he turned around and left her alone without a word.
Molly found herself taking some deep breaths before putting the body away. Later when she put her ungloved hands to her face she found her cheeks wet with tears.
Sometime later Molly heard a soft tapping at her door that lead into her small and to be honest a bit messy office. She was busy with paperwork that never seemed to ever go away no matter how much she did…
Go away…Perhaps she should simply go away….Molly couldn't help but think. Perhaps somewhere far away from London…Far away from everything, in fact…including Sherlock.
Was it so wrong to just go somewhere? Anywhere? But where? She knew she had a hell of a lot of holiday time that some of the higher ups thought she should take…Yet, surely it was a mad impulse? Completely mad! But…Maybe, just maybe it was an impulse that needed to happen. Hell, she had recently learned that good things can indeed come from impulses. Good wonderful things…
"Come in." She told whoever was knocking. To see the familiar face of Sherlock's best friend, John Watson. He gifted her a soft smile.
Molly tossed down her black pen before guessing, her voice was quite weary, "Sherlock wants to come back and see the body but thought it best to send you to ask?"
John rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, moving into the small office. "Actually, no. He no longer needs the body. He solved the Abernetty case by how much a piece of parsley had sunk into the butter. Supposedly the fact that it was a very hot day when he had been murdered mattered…Looks as if the nephew did it."
Molly nodded, quite thankful that she no longer needed to feel so bloody guilty about throwing Sherlock out of Bart's morgue.
"Well…You see, I thought I'd stop by and…well…" John began looking charmingly flustered.
"Check upon me?" Molly decided to take a guess once more. Not at all offended that he would check up on her…she wondered for a second if Sherlock was the one to ask John to check up on her…surely he didn't, not Sherlock…but what if he had? And if he had…what could that possibly mean? Perhaps, she was simply over thinking it.
"You are surrounded by people who care, Molly." John stated as if he thought she was questioning his and other people's concern…Yet it wasn't his concern she was actually questioning.
Molly sighed before muttering, "I know…"
"And Sherlock cares." As John said this she shot him a look. So he continued, "He does. About a couple of hours ago he expressed to me that he may have said something 'not good'. He has never been the type of man who has ever worried about what he blurts out when he is being himself. Which is always, the arse, but no matter what he does care. Especially when it comes…to you."
Molly looked away. Sometimes she wondered if that was true. Lately however…
Suddenly she felt a bit angry, not really knowing way. "Fine. Lovely! Everyone cares especially the great Sherlock Holmes!"
Molly stood from her chair, wishing she could storm out of the room. She knew she wasn't being logical. She didn't really even understand why at time she became so angry or…or suddenly so afraid. Her hands tightened into fists before she continued, "Don't you think I want to be fine? You think I don't see how Sherlock looks at me as if expecting me to suddenly be my old self once more?"
She wondered at the rare times she could have sworn she saw disappointment and sadness cross his face when he studied her…Or the brief flashes of anger in those beautiful sharp hawk like eyes of his.
"Molly…" John attempted to cut into her thoughts…
She continued, "Don't you think I'm trying to be better? To get better? Don't you think I would prefer that those nightmares I've been having would simply go away? You and I both know I was buried alive, John with a corpse and for Sherlock…For Sherlock to just believe I should just…just 'get over it'…You think that too, don't you? Well, how about you just go to hell and take your best mate with you!"
"I have never said or even thought for a moment that you should 'get over it'." John stated moving a few steps closer. "You can yell at me, hell, yell at the heavens if it will make you feel better! Talk to a therapist, I can give you the number of the one I have been known to use. Throw things. Hate Sherlock and me for not rescuing you much sooner. We tried, damn it! We…Sherlock did his bloody best! He was brilliant and a bit scary as well. He didn't want to admit it, perhaps he even hated himself but he was so incredibly angry that you were taken. There was a dangerous, ice cold fury about him…He was desperate to get to you sooner, Molly…"
Molly covered her face with her shaking hands before slowly removing them to look at John. "I don't hate you or Sherlock. I'm even grateful…I am…You both rescued me right on time. You both couldn't have done better. I'm not sure what is wrong with me…One minute I feel so emotionless and so cold and the next my emotions are out of control…going every which way! I know I'm having a hard time, at the moment…I'm adjusting but I'm certain I will get better but no matter what Sherlock may expect I won't get better overnight and annoys me that he even thinks I will…or even should. I am hopeful that I will get better. I want to get better…I have to get better."
She hated the fact that she was having problems with enclosed places. She hated this new fear with a passion…The sudden panic attacks… Always looking over her shoulder wondering if someone was going to surprise her and kidnap her once more…The nights that she would wake up in a sweat, shaking and feeling as if her heart was trying to escape her chest.
"You have plenty of time to get better, Molly." John attempted to comfort her. "Life is never so much the struggle of good against evil, life is actually the struggle of surviving day by day with bad things that come our way."
After a brief respite she asked with a very weak smile, "Did your therapist say that to you?"
John nodded, "Pretty much, yes."
"Oh…I'm thinking of going away on a holiday. Get away from London for a bit. I have a lot of time that has built up over time so…" Molly shrugged, continuing very seriously. "Maybe leaving will help me."
Leave London…Leave Sherlock…The thought sent a slight jab of pain to her heart.
John shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels slightly. "I'm not certain that leaving London will help you any in the long run, Molly."
"I'd come back…Maybe…" Molly stated softly, quite sadly.
Even if she did leave where would she go? She wanted to go somewhere…Safe…and even if she liked people she wanted to go where there wasn't much people around. Where she could relax with her cat yet go for nice country walks that weren't filled with heavy foot traffic.
John shook his head, eyeing her with deep concern. "It's your life and you do deserve to take a lovely holiday, sure…but remember, wherever you go you will be taking yourself with you."
If John wasn't careful he'd sound like a therapist!
"I know. Hell, even if I wanted to go on holiday. I'm uncertain about where to go. I want it to be peaceful and quiet…maybe a nice little cottage out in the middle of nowhere…as if I could ever find 'nowhere'! John I need to deal with all this crazy stuff that is going on inside me…Plus…" Molly bit her lip briefly before she decided to admit something that she hadn't revealed to anyone yet. "John…I'm pregnant."
John turned so horribly pale. "Good Lord! The bastard that kidnapped you didn't…didn't…rape you, did he?"
"NO! Goodness, no." Molly quickly told him. Suddenly realizing that John had known that she hadn't been seeing anyone months before the kidnapping had taken place and after the kidnapping…Nothing…Except for one night…The one night…
"No, I really didn't spend much time with my kidnapper. He simply drugged me, placed me in a coffin that already held a dead body and buried me alive. It wasn't until later that I became pregnant. You see after Sherlock and you saved the day…He, um, took me home…"
John inhaled deeply with extremely wide eyes. Shock…Surprise…Radiating from every pore. "Are you saying that…that Sherlock…"
A part of her wanted to laugh. She pressed her hand lovingly to her belly. Happiness and joy filled her and the smile she flashed him was true. "Yes. I'm having a baby and it's Sherlock's."
~*~End of Part 1~*~
Also, never fear I am still working on my other two stories and now this one! Yet, as stated this is a short one so if you do like it you will hopefully see the next part soon.
