One of the many times Sherlock drops in on Molly after he dies

She walked down the street, not really looking, not observing, but just going along as normal. As if she didn't know a secret that stopped her from talking with John whenever he stopped by to visit. Not that he did very often.

She got to her door, unlocking it but not meeting any resistance like she usually did when unlocking her door. She glanced around now, looking for a car that might indicate Mycroft dropping by with news of Sherlock. But she saw none. She took her chances, pushing open her door and looking around the dark room.

This morning she had gotten up well before the sun so she didn't open her curtains, and Toby could see well enough in the dark he didn't need the kitchen light on.

"Anyone here?" She called out as she heard Toby scratching at a door.

"I am... and I guess you can say I am in need of some assistance." She heard Sherlock's deep voice, and as she was unable to pin point it, she moved to the light near her desk.

She turned around, looking through the room to see him in the chair he used to use. She gasped as she saw how pale he was. And then rushed forward as she saw the hook in his chest.

"How long has that been in you? How deep?" She asked touching the worn jacket that he looked so abstract in.

"Just 8 hours, it is blocking most of the blood flow. I knew that I would need a doctor I could trust... and who knew I was alive to get it out and keep me alive." He tried to sit up, but she touched his unhurt shoulder and pushed him back.

"You're lucky that I am prepared this time. When you got shot in the thigh it was a bit of a surprise that your brother brought you to the morgue... but I've kept stalk ever since." She moved around, grabbing scissors and antiseptic, bandages, suture kit, everything she has stolen from the hospital incase she ever had to patch him up on the go.

"Molly... if we don't hurry I will pass out and you will not be able to move me." He called out to her when she started to triple check everything.

"Come on then, to my bed." She grabbed his left hand, not daring to get close to the arm she knew was causing pain. He stood up with a groan, pushed himself up and leaned on her just a bit until they took the fifteen steps to her room, as soon as he was laying down flat she started to cut his jacket, the shirt, and then she grabbed the peroxide, opening the lip and just dumping it over the hook.

He hissed at the pressure the liquid brought. "Give me something to bite Molly, or your neighbors will hear me." He hissed out and she looked around before seeing an old waist belt and she grabbed it before looking at his face.

"I'll get local anesthesia for next time." She promised as she laid the belt in his mouth and he gave her a look before she moved her eyes and hands back to the hook. "Okay." She took her time getting the curve out and by the time her hand was in his blood, he had passed out. She worked fast, but not sloppy. She got things together, got his stitched up, cleaned, even washed his face and moved towels under him so the parts of the mattress soaked by the blood and other liquids wouldn't cause him to be cold. She grabbed a very rarely used blanket and covered him with it, started to make him something to eat and drink to replenish himself when he woke.

She went to the chair her had been sitting in, made an attempt to clean it, and then gave up.

But she did move a kitchen chair into her room, open her laptop, log in to the server from work, and emailed her boss saying she had come down with a bit of food poisoning, or so she assumes, and it might be the flu but promised to get caught up on her paperwork from home.

Stamford wrote back within an hour telling her that she could have the next 3 days off if she needed that much, and while she wrote a thank you back, she noticed Sherlock moving around in his sleep. After another half hour of dealing with paper word, his eyes were open, and he was groggily saying her name.

"I am here, just finishing up a report. Hungry or thirsty?" She asked him as she typed without looking at her words.

"Both." He grumbled and she stood up and looked over his face, noticing how he had some healing cuts just under his curls and she narrowed her eyes. "Thank you." He told her and she just nodded before turning and going to get him his fill.

She came back into her room, saw him struggling to sit up on his own and set the tray down before rushing to even out his support.

"So, want to make up another story about this? Or are you going to tell me the truth?" She asked him as she helped feed him.

"Just a fishing accident." He fibbed and she just gave an eye roll before giving him another spoonful. "Why don't you tell me how you think I got it." He implored with a slight smile and she gave him a look.

"With your luck you could have walked into it." She teased him back and he narrowed his eyes.

"I am not that daft." He told her and she gave him a wide smile.

"I think the whole world knows that Sherlock. Just a little joke." She told him and shifted some hair out of her eyes.

"Going to tell me what is happening?" He asked her and she nodded and started to tell him things. Some about how Mrs. Hudson was dating. John still wasn't at his best. She told him about some cases, getting some insight to tell Lestrade tomorrow. Little things that would help but not give away who the killer or thief was.

"How about you? Going to tell me where you've been? Something you've learned?" She asked when he was finally done and she had come back to him laying in bed again.

"I've learned never to underestimate how sharp fishhooks can be." He told her and she nodded. "Where did you put it anyway?" He asked her and she moved to her bathroom, pulling it out of the sink and moving to show him. "Take care of that for me, I want it as a souvenir." He told her and she rolled her eyes before letting it sit in the sink again.

"Anything else?" She asked him before moving to the other side of the bed and tugging on her slippers.

"That you can sleep in your own bed tonight if I haven't ruined it all." He told her and she looked worried before confused. "You do not distract me Molly, in fact, being near you makes me feel like nothing has changed, when in reality, everything has." He told her and looked over to meet her eye and she gulped and opened her bed up so she could slip through the blankets. "Anything else you want to tell me?" He asked after a long pause.

"Why do you lock Toby in the bathroom every time you come?" She asked and he gave a loud annoyed huff before a short laugh.

"He always purrs and rubs up against me, and then I go on a mission, smelling of cat. The dogs they send after me are a bit more encouraged by the scent." He told her and she giggled up a storm before they were both quiet. She had already turned off all the lights, they laid there, on their backs, looking at her ceiling in quiet comforting silence. "Flogging Molly." He said and she halted her breathing and slowly say up and looked at him. "It's a band I believe. Something else I have learned." He told her and she gave him a hard look. "Made me think of you." He told her and she looked at him.

"Before or after the hook?" She asked and he gave her another eye roll.

"Just before actually. I had seen it flash on a screen as I was headed down to the docks." He told her and she gave him a worried glance and he closed his eyes as he relaxed.

The next day Mycroft stopped by to collect his brother, seeing to his recovery, and only stopping by the following week to let her know he was in top shape and back on his way to Eastern Europe.

Molly had kept the fish hook, even had it framed for when he returned for good. Sadly when Tom saw it and asked, she had to tell him that it was just a decoration and a present for an old friend. He thought it was silly, asking her why she didn't already give it to him.

And she did, the following Christmas when Sherlock Holmes returned from the dead. Tom never noticed.