Sherlock's Hospital Room, Mid-day. Even light filters in through the window. Sherlock lies half reclined, eyes closed, fingers steepled beneath his chin. He's got an I.V. drip with a morphine pump attached and turned to about one quarter potency. The newspapers left by Janine earlier in the day have been gathered up into a small pile and placed beside the flower arrangements lining the console in front of the window.
Molly Hooper pushes open the door and enters, then stops even with the foot of the bed. Sherlock's eyes pop open.
SHERLOCK: Hello Molly.
MOLLY: Didn't think you'd want to see me. (Sherlock's brow wrinkles in confusion) I was so angry before. When I, I...
SHERLOCK (catches her meaning and waves a hand dismissively): You helped me focus. Then you came here and held my hand while I was unconscious.
Molly looks a bit puzzled. One side of Sherlock's mouth twists with the hint of a smile.
SHERLOCK: Caught the scent of your lotion lingering on my skin. (raises his right hand as if to demonstrate, then drops it back onto the blanket) Things do change.
MOLLY (eyes his morphine pump, frowning): Do they?
SHERLOCK: Ah, so you're still upset then. (goes into quick deduction mode, noticing her unkempt ponytail, lack of lipstick, red rimmed eyes and a smudge of newsprint on the edge of her sleeve) But it's something different...you were awake most of last night. And doing a good bit of reading?
Molly stares at the floor, clearly pained and a little embarrassed.
Sherlock glances with sudden realization at the stack of newspapers containing Janine's tell-all interviews.
SHERLOCK: Oh. (tone softening as his gaze falls back on Molly) Ooh... You don't actually think-
MOLLY (interrupting): I don't know what to think. But it's none of my affair.
SHERLOCK: It was for a case. All of it.
MOLLY (meets his eyes, but with a disbelieving look): So not just the drugs, you mean you...you made up a relationship just to investigate something?
SHERLOCK: Someone. Yes.
MOLLY: Did she, Mary's friend, was she in on it?
SHERLOCK: Nope. (pops the 'p', a little amused with himself) Apparently, I can be quite convincing as a boyfriend.
MOLLY (flinches, then her temper flares): Well, no wonder she, she... (gestures toward the stack of newspapers, looking a little aghast) Sherlock! What a horrible thing to do!
SHERLOCK (rolls his eyes): John said the same. But Janine was quite understanding, not to mention profited nicely, so there's really no need for you to-
MOLLY (interrupts, shaking her head as she steps toward the door): I should go.
Molly is almost out of the room when Sherlock finally speaks, his tone now completely sincere.
SHERLOCK (quietly): Mycroft is right.
MOLLY (turning back): What?
SHERLOCK: Sentiment. Caring. It's not an advantage. (he looks down at the bandage on his chest, then squeezes his eyes shut) Hurts, doesn't it?
Molly chews her lip takes a tiny step towards him, then stops, studying his downturned features. When she replies, its barely a whisper.
MOLLY: Yes.
SHERLOCK (swallows, but doesn't look up): Why bother, then?
Molly moves back into the room, coming closer to the side of the bed this time. A look of sympathy washes over her features, the tension in the room is broken.
MOLLY: Some people are worth it.
They are both silent for a long moment, then both speak at once, over each other.
MOLLY: What do you-
SHERLOCK: Am I still-
Sherlock makes a palms up gesture and a tilt of his head to indicate Molly should continue, which she does.
MOLLY: What do you need, Sherlock?
SHERLOCK (blinks, his expression utterly blank for just a second before a completely genuine, and slightly conspiratorial smile appears on his face): I need to break out of hospital for a few hours. Will you help?
MOLLY (Shakes her head, rolling her eyes in resigned frustration): Just one question. The someone this case is for, are they worth it?
SHERLOCK (leans his head back against the pillows and takes a deep breath, then nods): Very much so.
Cut to Bart's Hospital Canteen, a number of hours later. It's now nighttime. Greg and John have discovered Sherlock missing and started searching for him.
Molly pulls out a chair and sits down alone at a small round table. She sets a paper cup of coffee and a foil wrapped packet on the table, then pulls a satsuma from her lab coat pocket, placing it on the table as well.
She unwraps a sandwich, takes one small bite and then drops it back onto the crumpled foil. She pulls her phone from her pocket, gives it a worried glance and puts it away, then takes a sip of coffee.
Greg Lestrade enters the canteen, spots Molly and makes a beeline toward her table. Molly sees him approach and rearranges her features into a smile.
MOLLY: Greg, Hi.
Greg pulls a chair out from the empty table next to Molly's and swings it around then sits on it backwards, so he's facing her, arms folded across the chair back.
GREG: Molly, They said you'd gone to dinner. Glad I found you. I need your help.
MOLLY (smile slipping for just a second before she catches herself): Sure. What can I do for you?
GREG: Sherlock checked himself out of his hospital room, courtesy of the window. John and I are trying to find him.
Molly's smile disappears and little creases form between her eyebrows.
MOLLY: Oh no. Where do you think he's gone?
GREG: Not a clue. That's what I was hoping you could help with. We know Sherlock's got hidey-holes all over the city, places he can stay when he needs to be away from Baker Street, yeah? I'm trying to check 'em all. I was hoping if you knew of anywhere he might go...
MOLLY (smiles nervously and reaches for her coffee cup): I, erm, only know of one.
GREG (sounding hopeful): Yeah?
MOLLY: Just a spare bedroom, well... (sheepishly) my bedroom. We agreed he needs the space.
Molly keeps her smile steady, but nervously lifts her cup to her lips. Greg sighs, face falling in disappointment.
GREG: Ok. Well, if he turns up, call me, alright?
Molly (nodding): Yes, of course.
Greg stands to leave, takes a couple of steps, then pauses. He swallows and blows out a breath as if he knows he's going to regret what he's about to do, then turns and sits back down. Molly looks up at him expectantly, the worried line forming between her brows again.
GREG: Listen, I know it's not my business. And, you know I consider him a friend. (Molly nods) So, I'm not saying this to be ugly.
He hesitates, rubs the back of his neck with one hand, then continues.
GREG: Look, we both know Sherlock. He manipulates people sometimes.
Molly chews her lip, giving him a worried look, but doesn't say anything.
GREG: He's done it to me and I've seen him do it to you too. And Molly, you shouldn't let him. I know you've still got feelings for the idiot.
She starts to reply, but he continues without giving her the chance.
GREG: No, I know you do. That friend of Mary's, the bridesmaid, who said all that rubbish in the tabloids? Well, John told me Sherlock faked their whole relationship, even proposed to her. And all just so she'd let him into her boss's office.
MOLLY: That's horrible.
GREG (nods): It is. And you deserve better. That's all I'm saying.
Molly stares down into her coffee cup, For a moment, it seems like she's debating about whether to let Greg in on a secret. Then she gives an almost imperceptible head shake and looks back up.
MOLLY: You're right Greg. I know you are. It's just...well, you know him too, sometimes you just have to trust that he knows what he's on about.
GREG: Yeah, all right. Call me if you hear anything.
Molly: Okay.
Greg stands up to leave, then looks down at her.
GREG (with a grin that borders on a grimace): But if I find the big git in your bedroom, I'll shoot him myself.