Okay, so this one is a bit of a departure from my normal fluffy, comedy. **There are descriptions of torture, violence, and severe physical injury. Don't read this story if this is any kind of trigger for you. Please, no hurt feelings... just move on.**
It's chuck-full of angst... but hold on dearies, if you've read anything I've ever written you will know I tend to end things on a positive note. We will see (almost) the entire cast at some point or another and I even wrote an original character this time. As the sadness builds, don't despair, hang in there with me. I promise there is a payoff.
Much thanks to the amazing MizJoely for betaing this story (She is an angel with a word processing program, instead of a harp) and as always to my dear friend MrMCrieff for Brit answers and moral support. (I wouldn't have to bother her so much if my stubborn husband would just give in and move us to the UK... I ask for one little thing, to move to another continent, and he's all "No, we live in America!" Bah, he's no fun.)
As per usual, I own nothing... Enjoy.
Molly sat alone in her office wondering what the hell was going on. She had, just like everyone else in Britain, seen Moriarty's face appear seemingly out of nowhere. Mike came down and immediately checked on her. She said she was fine and he had gone off to meet with other department heads. Now she was alone. She wanted to call someone, but who? If she were in any danger surely someone would have come for her, surely they wouldn't have left her alone, right? No, she couldn't be in danger, that made no sense whatsoever. She and Sherlock had hardly spoken since she had tested him for drugs. She had only seen him once while he was in the hospital and he wasn't even conscious. She was nothing more than an bit player in the great drama that is the epic theatrical production of Sherlock's life. As far as she knew no one, including John Watson, knew she was the one that helped him fake his death. Sure there were theories and yes she was included in them, but so was the use of a TARDIS for heaven's sake. No one could have taken these theories seriously.
She couldn't concentrate on her work, so as she sat there her mind started to wander to the very strange phone call she had received the night before.
"Hi Mary, how are you feeling?" she answered her phone, quite surprised to be receiving a call from John's wife. They weren't close after all.
"I'm well Molly, thank you," There was a pause, a long one. Molly started to ask what was going on when Mary spoke again. "Molly, Sherlock is going away again."
"Oh?" Molly instantly knew there was something huge going on, she just didn't know if she wanted to hear the whole story this time. She loved the man, of course she always would, but if she were honest she was feeling a bit discarded as of late.
"Yes, I wanted to come over and tell you in person, but John... well I didn't want him to know."
Molly didn't know what to say. Mary was sounding very much not like herself, or the Mary that Molly normally saw at least. "Well thank you for telling me. I haven't seen him in an age, but I suppose it's good to know why he won't be the lab for a while." She heard Mary take a deep breath.
"Molly," she said. "I'm so sorry for this."
"For what?" Molly asked completely confused.
"I know how much you care for him and you don't seem to understand how..." She stopped talking abruptly. Molly could hear John talking in the background, then she heard Mary tell John that she'd be back inside in just a moment. "Look I-I have to go, John hasn't figured it out yet and I don't know how to tell him." It sounded like Mary was crying.
"Hasn't figured what out Mary?" Molly asked frantically.
"Oh my God Molly, I'm so sorry." Then the line went dead.
Molly spent the next several hours trying to figure out what the strange phone could have possibly meant while futilely attempting to complete her mound of paperwork. She was just about to give up and see if she could take off early when the lights in her office went out. Her heart suddenly felt like it was in her throat. She stood up and made her way to the door. There was enough illumination from the emergency lights to see someone standing just outside her office door. She could tell it was a man.
"H-hello?" she stammered. "Um, d-do you know what's going on?"
The man walked silently toward her, Molly could only back into her office to retreat. "Who are y-you?" Still nothing, he just kept walking. When Molly felt the wall against her back and she knew there was no where she could go. That was it, she was trapped.
"It seems you've been forgotten, lucky for me. Does make things easier," he said in a gruff voice, then she felt a prick at her neck and everything went black.
The next several days of Molly Hooper's life were a confusing mass of drugs, beatings and humiliation. In her more lucid moments she hoped vaguely that someone was coming to get her, but it was a distant dream. Something kept telling her that Sherlock was gone, and not coming back. She couldn't help thinking that he certainly wasn't coming for her. Those moments were few and far between though. Mostly she'd be beaten to the point of unconsciousness then given some kind of drug to bring her back out of it or given a drug that made her sleep, that one she didn't really mind. She was given water and the occasional bag of crisps then allowed to relieve herself in a bucket, it was humiliating. She only ever saw one man, by the sound of his voice it was the same man who had taken her from Barts. Sometimes, however, she could hear voices in the hallway outside her room. She wasn't tied to the bed or a chair, that in and of itself was somewhat torturous, if she could only get to the door... but she never had the energy. She hurt everywhere.
One day, she didn't know when as she had no idea how long she had been there, the man came in with an unusually feral look on his face.
"He hasn't figured it out yet luv, seems like he needs a little motivation. Let's get you ready first." He started by giving her another proper beating, then followed it up by ripping half her clothes off. He removed just enough to expose one of Molly's breasts and her bruised thighs. She was propped up on the bed and told to be still, as if she had a choice, since she was barely conscious.
The man took several photos with a phone, chuckling the whole time. Molly didn't try to cover herself; she could hardly even open her eyes let alone lift her arms. When he was finished gave her a toothy grin. "Maybe this will get his attention," he said as approached her. She felt yet another needle being jabbed into her neck. The last she saw before blacking out was her captor casually strolling out of the room.
When Molly started to wake up it took several minutes to realise she wasn't in that room anymore. She heard the sound of a heart monitor and could smell the disinfectant and oxygen infused air of a hospital. Nothing had ever smelled so sweet. She still couldn't really move and frankly didn't want to. Even turning her head slightly hurt terribly, but she saw the IV in the back of her hand leading to a morphine pump, that's when she realised how much worse she could be feeling were it not for the drugs. She closed her eyes and tried to relax when she heard someone walking into her room.
"How is she?" Greg, Greg Lestrade, she thought.
"I just read her chart. It could have been worse." John Watson's voice sounded strained and hoarse. "But not much."
"She'll recover though? Tell me she'll recover." Greg again.
She heard John release an exasperated breath, then she heard footsteps going back out the door. They started talking again. If their intention was to be out of earshot, they had failed miserably.
"Yes she'll recover, physically. But that's hardly the point isn't it?" John's voice was an angry whisper.
"John, I feel just as bad as you do but..."
"But, but what?" John interrupted. "How could he have let this happen? I'm going to kill him. I'm gonna kill him with his own brolly."
"You can't say shit like that to me, I'm an officer of the law."
"Fuck you Greg. I'm a little sick of you defending him. I can't believe you arrested Sherlock."
"I didn't arrest him. I cuffed him and took him away from a situation that could have escalated very quickly," Greg defended.
"If only."
"This isn't the place for this discussion, John."
"Then go! I promised Sherlock I'd stay here until he was finished with his statements."
"John," She heard Greg start to say something but she heard John walk back into the room.
Part of her wanted to open her eyes and talk to the army doctor, she had so many questions. However a bigger part of her was exhausted from only being awake for a few minutes. So she let the medicine do its job and drifted back to sleep.
The next time she woke up it was to a doctor she didn't recognize talking to a nurse as she jotted down orders. Molly slowly blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the brightly lit room.
"Hey there. Look who's awake. This certainly is a good sign. I'm Dr. Samuels. How are you feeling?" he asked.
Molly cleared her throat. "Thirsty."
The nurse rushed to get her some water, then helped her take a few sips. "Where am I?" Molly asked.
"Charing Cross Hospital, you've been here for almost thirty-five hours. I understand that you're a doctor?"
Molly nodded.
"Do you feel up to going over your injuries? We can wait of course, if not."
She took as deep of a breath as she could draw. "Now."
"Well then I won't sugar-coat anything. As you can probably tell you have a pretty severe concussion. You have a cracked orbital and a ruptured eardrum. We had to put two screws in your hip, your femoral neck was cracked. Three broken ribs and most of the others are cracked or bruised. We will have to wait until some of the swelling goes down to see what we can do about the soft tissue damage to your palate and sinuses. Your legs, arms, abdomen and back are covered in contusions." He paused giving her a moment to take in what he had told her. "I understand your brother is on his way."
"I have no idea, but that sounds right. He lives in America," She looked back to the nurse, silently asking for more water. The woman obliged. Molly took a long drink. "Was I..." She cleared her throat again. "Was there any sexual assault? I-I can't seem to remember... everything." She couldn't look the man in the eyes as she asked the question.
"No, there didn't appear to be any sexual assault at all," he said with a very small smile.
Molly closed her eyes and released a breath she didn't realise she had been holding. The whole ordeal was still so much of a blur, she couldn't be certain that he hadn't raped her. She had no memory of being violated, but she knew she was unconscious a great deal of the time.
The doctor spoke up again. "Your friend Dr. Watson left just before we came in and wanted me to tell you that Mr. Holmes would be back soon."
For a moment Molly was pleased then memories came rushing back and she suddenly didn't know if she wanted to see either of the men. She thought about the days spent being beaten, starved and humiliated. She thought about the six or so hours she spent alone in her office wondering what was going on and assuming that she was safe. Then she went over her injuries quickly in her head. She'd be in the hospital for days, perhaps a week. There would weeks of physical therapy, she could have permanent hearing damage from the ruptured eardrum. And if the damage to her face (which she hadn't even seen yet,) was as bad as it sounded she might require reconstructive surgery. She had forgiven him so many times, for so many things. She wasn't sure she could this time. She had been left alone and unprotected. Forgotten. No, she didn't want to see the Boffin Detective or his blogging best friend.
The doctor was finishing making notes in her file. "Dr. Samuels, I don't want any visitors. No one except my brother. His name Allen. Allen Hooper. I don't want to see Sherlock Holmes or John Watson."
The doctor furrowed his brows. "Dr. Hooper, you do understand that Mr. Holmes is the one who found you. He rescued you and killed the man who did this to you. Are you sure this is what you want?"
Molly settled herself into the hospital bed and looked away from him. "Yes, I'm sure all that's true. This is what I want, please," she said.
Okay, that's chapter one... Tell me what you think. I know, poor Molly. Updates are coming. Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks for reading. Lil