A/N: I want to thank whoever picked this prompt for me because it is exactly my kind of thing and it was a lot of fun to write. I also want to acknowledge that The Nexus by Amaranthe was what kicked off my inspiration for this. I may have gone a bit overboard with the worldbuilding and made this the longest oneshot ever, but I don't regret it.
Warnings: Violence, Blood, Psychological Trauma, Mentions of Non-consensual Drug Use, Past Phys/Psych Torture, Dehumanization, Internalized Ableism
It was dark, but the lights of the city filtered into the unlit office which contained a man and a woman, both working diligently on their interfaces. The man was sweating and trembling as he worked, frequently glancing up as if he was afraid of something. His colleague was seemingly totally unaware of his state, focused as she was on her own task. Only when she got up did it occur to her that anything was wrong.
"I'm going to grab some coffee. Do you want anything, Alan?" she asked before turning to see what a mess the man was in. "Are you okay? You look ill. Maybe you should take a break." She brushed a lock of red hair behind her ear and gazed at him with a concerned expression. He did not look away from his screen.
"No, I can't. I-I really can't. Sorry, but thanks, Linda. I've got to- oh God! Oh p-please no!" He stopped mid nervous statement to exclaim in terror. Linda scowled and followed his eyes, which were now looking behind her. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she caught sight of the shadowy figure standing in the doorway. "Please! Give me more time! I promise I'll have it for him in eight hours!" Alan begged. The figure stepped into the path of the light coming in from the window, revealing himself to be a young man of no more than nineteen, his chiseled features and the ice chips of his almond shaped eyes forming a cold mask. The inky black of his neatly cropped hair matched that of his stealth suit, which fitted closely to his body and made his tall, lean frame very apparent. There were strange little cuts on his temples, but he didn't seem to be in pain at all.
"Mr. Magnussen does not like to be kept waiting. He has given you far too much time already." The teenager spoke with a deep, smooth timbre of a voice that was rather unsettling coming from someone so young. Linda's breath hitched in her throat, trapping the scream that wanted out of her. She watched in horror as her coworker fell to pieces.
"Please. I beg you. If I could only have a few more hours, I can give him everything he wants. I swear."
"A few more hours to leak information to the revolutionaries is what you surely must mean. It's written all over you like graffiti on an abandoned slum house," the teenager replied without missing a beat. Casually, he drew out the gun which was strapped to his thigh and took his time removing the safety and aiming it.
"Oh God! Oh God! Please! I don-" Alan blubbered, tears streaming down his round face, but he was cut short by a plasma bullet to the head. Before Linda could release the scream she'd been holding, the teenager, without even looking, gave her a silencing bullet as well. Placing his gun neatly back in its holster, he turned briskly on his heel and walked out as quickly and quietly as he'd come.
Ten Years Later
Not for the first time, Molly Hooper was having difficulty sleeping, but what made tonight special was the reason. Never before had her work in the morgue at the hospital kept her up at night, but the man she'd autopsied just before the end of her shift that evening would not leave her mind. His mangled body had come in with his big dark eyes wide open and a devilish grin upon his lips. There was something unusually chilling about it. He came with no identification whatsoever. No search Molly made produced an identity, which meant that according to the government, this man did not exist. Even stranger were the marks on his head, particularly the cuts on his temples and the two deep gashes about an inch and a half each in size in the back which almost formed a V shape. She had seen nothing like it before and she could not find anything that would make such marks. To top it off, she had discovered a small piece of metal embedded in the back of his neck. It looked like some sort of cyber chip. All of this was baffling and it led Molly to believe that what had resulted in that man's death hadn't been as simple as a speeder accident.
The problem had Molly tossing and turning in her bed at one in the morning. Her curiosity had never been so insistent. She had started to consider taking something to make herself sleep and had pulled back her sheets when she saw something move in the shadows and she froze.
"Who's there?" she called out, her voice firm despite her anxiety. Without warning, the lights in the room turned on and revealed a tall, darkly clad man standing at the end of her bed, pointing a gun at her.
"We can either do this the easy way or the hard way," he told her in a velvet baritone which induced shivers that lay somewhere between fear and pleasure. Molly blinked a few times to adjust to the sudden light, but she did not scream. She only clutched at the hem of her nightdress and took a deep breath. Somehow, she didn't think this man had any interest in hurting her, even if he did have his gun trained on her.
"What do you want from me?"
"You are Molly Hooper, recently hired to work in the morgue of St. Bartholomew's Hospital in London, are you not?"
"I am."
"Did you perform an autopsy on an unidentifiable man this evening?"
"Yes."
"I need you to take me to the morgue so that I may see the body."
"Why?" The man's stoic expression faltered briefly at this, as if he had not expected her to question him.
"Would you rather know and live in fear or not know and remain in your comfortable life?" Molly was surprised by this answer, having anticipated something along the lines of "mind your own business or I'll shoot you". Still, she considered it for a long moment, the man watching her with his stunning blue eyes making it no less difficult to come to a decision.
"I'm not sure," she finally said and the man seemed oddly intrigued, quirking an eyebrow at her. It was the most his face had moved thus far.
"I take it you would like to do this the easy way, then?"
"What exactly does that entail?"
"You helping me willingly with no need for this." He gestured with his gun after rolling his eyes at having to spell things out for her. She nodded silently and he put away the weapon.
Soon the pair of them were walking along pavement together, Molly now dressed and silently formulating excuses to her coworkers. After all, one couldn't just say, "I'm just popping back for a moment, Caroline. I've been coerced into showing a strange man an even stranger corpse," so she listened to the sound of vehicles humming past and tried to come up with something she could have convincingly forgotten in the morgue. Perhaps her tablet or the keycard to her flat. The man said nothing to her as they walked and only glanced around as if he was anticipating danger. His movements were graceful and precise, like someone who had military stealth training. She didn't think he was doing this for the government, though. If he were, he wouldn't need her.
They took a side entrance into the hospital and used an employee lift to go into the basement. Molly half expected her hand scan to deny her access out of nervousness, but the scanner turned green and the doors slid open, allowing them to enter and descend. Not surprisingly, the basement was empty. With another scan at the door to the morgue, they were in.
"Caroline?" Molly called out, not sure if her colleague was in. It would certainly complicate things if she were. Fortunately, upon spotting the coat on the counter, but no handbag, it was clear to Molly that she was not. "Caroline must be on her extended coffee break. We've got time."
"Good. Show me the body," the man commanded tersely and Molly nodded before hurrying over to a panel in the wall and punching in a code. One of the drawers on the other side of the room opened, revealing the unfortunate corpse. The man wasted no time in getting down to whatever business he had come here for. Molly watched him from afar, curious but not sure what she should be doing. In the bright lights of the morgue, she could now clearly see the thin scars on his temples, marks which matched ones she'd found on the deceased man, although those were not healed. If this stranger had had them as well at one point, he must know what they mean. Molly was about to voice her question, but he cut her off with one of his own. "When you autopsied this man, did you find something in his neck?" he asked sharply.
"Y-Yes. A bit of metal. I think it was a cyber chip. Why?"
"I need it." She didn't know what she had been expecting, but that wasn't it. Still, her interest made helping him no challenge.
"It'll be in the drawer below his head on the right side." He pulled open the drawer in question and the corners of his lips twitched upwards as he drew out the little packet containing the chip. As he straightened, he gestured for her to close everything up and stowed the chip in the pocket of his long, black coat. She hastily put everything back in order and guided him out. Just as he'd gone around the corner, but she hadn't quite turned, she heard a familiar voice calling behind her.
"Molly? What're you doing back here?" It was Caroline, back from her coffee break. Putting on a smile, Molly turned around and pulled her flat keycard from her pocket.
"Accidentally left this in the morgue."
"Oh! Yeah, definitely wouldn't want to lose that."
"Yeah. Night, Caroline."
"Night, Molly." With that, Caroline did her scan and entered the morgue, leaving Molly to breathe a sigh of relief and look back at the man around the corner who was now smirking at her just a little bit. She didn't know how she felt about that, so she said nothing and continued on with him. Once they were out of the hospital, she'd be free of him and this weirdness that had suddenly come into her life. Or at least that was what she thought.
When they were finally standing out in the night air, the mysterious man didn't walk away from Molly. He went with her towards her flat a ways before he stopped and turned to talk to her.
"You didn't help me tonight because you were afraid of being shot if you didn't. When I asked you if you wanted to be aware, you said 'I don't know', but we both know you made your decision right then and there. You want to know, don't you? The curiosity is killing you like an itch you can't scratch." His voice was quiet and impassive, but there was something about the look in his blue eyes that brought fire to his words. It was utterly captivating and it made Molly realize that she strangely found him highly attractive.
"Yes," she managed in reply. Over the man's shoulder, she caught sight of a woman standing in the shadows across the street. Her dark hair was cut very short and neat and her lips were painted blood red. The same odd cuts adorned her temples, hers just as fresh as those of the body in the morgue. There was no emotion on her angular features as she drew a gun and aimed it right between the man's shoulder blades. Molly's eyes widened in panic and she shoved him out of the way. The bullet missed and hit a wall, exploding violently enough to send large chunks of stone and metal flying everywhere. Molly felt several sharp pains in her body before she blacked out.
John and Mary Watson scrambled to their feet the moment they saw him come in, looking a bit worse for wear with an even more battered young woman in his arms.
"Oh my God! Sherlock, what happened?" Mary gasped as he lay Molly Hooper on the sofa. John hurriedly began examining Molly, pulling a med kit out of a compartment in the coffee table.
"This is Molly Hooper, the pathologist who helped me get to Jim's body. Irene found me, but Dr. Hooper saved me from her bullet at great personal risk," Sherlock answered, sounding as if he didn't understand why someone would do that for him. "I believe she has shrapnel in her side and was knocked out by flying debris." Sure enough, turning Molly onto her side revealed to John a very nasty wound.
"Did you get the chip?" Mary asked sternly.
"Yes, and we're very lucky that Dr. Hooper's curiosity made her helpful, because if she hadn't been, she's clever enough that things might have turned out rather differently and not in our favour." This prompted a small smile from Mary as she looked back over at the unconscious pathologist on her sofa. There was the unspoken understanding that Molly was one of them now. She no longer had a choice in the matter if she wanted to live.
"She'll be all right," John proclaimed as he set aside a sharp piece of bloody metal that had been imbedded in Molly. "A bit of bio mesh and something for pain and she'll be perfectly fine in a day or so."
"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to examine the chip," Sherlock responded flatly. No one objected as he retreated to the guest bedroom. There, he took the small packet from his pocket and removed his coat, tossing it over to a nearby chair. He sat down on the bed, legs crossed, quickly removed his fingerless gloves, and slid the chip out onto his palm. It was silvery in colour and grooved along the edges, just as he had expected it to be. "Show me all of your dark little secrets," Sherlock muttered, pressing his other palm over the chip and closing his eyes. His mind flooded with strings of code.
Two Days Later
Molly was surprised to find the dark haired man from before sitting on the edge of her bed, looking down at her when she awoke for the second time since that night at the hospital. She remembered the first time, when everything had been hazy and she'd learnt that she was injured and in the care of a lovely blond couple named John and Mary. That hadn't told her much of anything else before she'd fallen asleep.
"Good morning, Molly Hooper," the man greeted as she slowly sat up.
"Where are Mary and John?" she asked, rubbing her eyes and looking around at the small bedroom.
"They're seeing their young daughter today. You've been left in my charge."
"Oh." A slight blush crept into her cheeks as she properly looked at him. The morning light coming in through the window illuminated him in such a way that it became very apparent to her just how stunningly beautiful he was. The curls of his hair were a silky black which matched his tight fitting, sharply cut tunic and trousers. She was starting to get lost in the tropical seas of his eyes when he spoke to her again.
"You can't go back to your old life, in case you haven't figured that out already." That brought Molly's thoughts into sharp focus.
"I want to know what I signed up for, so tell me. Tell me everything," she demanded, sounding a lot more confident than she felt in the face of her situation. The man quirked an eyebrow at her, seemingly intrigued.
"There's rather a lot to tell. Why don't we start with specific questions?"
"All right. Who are you?" This brought a frown to his features, as if he hadn't expected that to be her first question. Nevertheless, he soon recovered and complied.
"My name is Sherlock Holmes and I was once nothing more than a child. A genius, to be exact, but still just a child," he began, adjusting himself so that he sat fully on the bed, his legs crossed. "My brother, Mycroft, was twenty one and quite possibly the most powerful man in Britain when he found himself on the wrong side of Charles Augustus Magnussen." The mention of that name coaxed a gasp from Molly.
Anyone who bothered to pay attention to the world around them was privy to the fact that Charles Augustus Magnussen, the founder of CAM Corp. was the puppet master pulling the strings of every major organization in the country, including the government itself. Some said that he was their real ruler, not the Prime Minister, and there could be no denying that he was a ruthless tyrant.
"Mycroft had never been beaten before and he arrogantly thought that Magnussen was no great threat, but he was wrong. So very wrong. Magnussen brought Mycroft to his knees, but rather than suffer disgrace, my brother offered something, a price that would allow him to wriggle out from under Magnussen's thumb: me. Only fourteen and expecting to return to school for another grueling term, I was instead taken to CAM Corp., where I was gradually stripped of my personhood until I was ready to become a complete part of the secret to Magnussen's success, something he'd dubbed 'The Nexus Programme'. It is essentially his own unique secret service, made up entirely of agents loyal to no one but him and who have no great sense of self. They do his work without question and are the reason Magnussen has the power he does. I was a Component of the Nexus for ten years and was one of the most efficient ones ever. As time went on, my own power grew, as did my capacity for independent thought. Eventually, Magnussen ceased to be able to control me and I joined forces with the very person I'd been commanded to murder, someone you know as Mary Watson. I have since been occupying the role of revolutionary and most wanted person on Magnussen's hit list. That is who I am. That is all that's worth knowing about me." When he finished, Sherlock folded his hands together in his lap and appeared to watch Molly for her reaction.
She state there in stunned silence for a long moment, trying to process everything she'd been told. Sadness for Sherlock drenched her thoughts and so her first action was to express her overwhelming sympathy.
"I'm so sorry that all of that happened to you," she told him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. He gazed back in uncomprehending astonishment. It was the most emotive she'd seen him thus far and she immediately started to wonder if she'd done something horribly wrong.
"You've got more questions. Ask them," Sherlock stated somewhat tensely. She took this as a sign that she probably shouldn't ever touch him again, so she leant back away from him and awkwardly continued their little interview.
"Right. I'd like to know more about Nexus. How does it operate?" Sherlock shifted a bit in his seat, making Molly think this was a touchy subject for him (she couldn't blame him), but he pressed on and answered.
"Magnussen knows his history. He saw the mistake our forebears made in trusting the judgement of machines. When he created Nexus, he chose to learn from this and use humans for his surveillance system."
"Surveillance?" Molly's brow furrowed and her nose scrunched in confusion. It sounded like run of the mill spying, but it couldn't be. If it were, Magnussen wouldn't be nearly so dangerous.
"Every interface in Britain comes out of the factory with a special line of code programmed into it. It's a back door that lets the Nexus in. What does Nexus do once it's in? It sees everything you're doing. It can even see you. It's made up of Components and if the one monitoring you catches you doing something against Magnussen's interests, they report it to him and he tells them how to handle it. The result is the unfortunate society you see around you." Molly felt a little sick at the thought that every time she had been sitting in front of an interface, someone could have been watching her. She was lucky that she'd never done anything up until now to grab Magnussen's attention.
"How many, er, Components are there?" It felt wrong referring to human beings like parts of a machine, but there was nothing for it.
"There are always twenty Components linked to Nexus at any given time, but in total, Magnussen likes to keep a stock of around fifty. They all have to be geniuses or they can't link."
"What do you mean 'link'?"
"Nexus operates via sleeping Components with their brains connected to the nest of fiber optics threads that is the mainframe. Their dreams are reality."
"Is that how you got your scars?" Molly asked, gesturing to Sherlock's temples. He smirked at her again, making her heart flutter.
"Very good, Dr. Hooper. Yes. After all, why would Magnussen concern himself with causing pain to people who aren't people when he doesn't even extend such consideration to anyone else?" Molly felt another stab of sadness. Sherlock must have endured unimaginable pain while he was part of Magnussen's programme.
"Did you know them, then? The man in the morgue and the woman who tried to kill you?" This line of inquiry seemed to please Sherlock further, as if he were impressed by her deductive thinking. She didn't understand why. It was only logical to assume that people who bore the same marks must be or have been involved in the same programme.
"I did. Jim joined Nexus five years before me. He was arguably Magnussen's favourite. Had an unusual flare for the dramatic when it came to assassination orders and was just as skilled as myself. I worked with him a couple of times. After my escape, he was assigned to hunt me exclusively. You've seen how that turned out. The woman, Irene, was once paired with me for breeding, but I left long before an encounter could be scheduled. It seems that she has filled Jim's position."
"Can the Components be saved?" Molly's voice was quiet as she looked down at her lap. Whatever these revolutionaries were planning, she hoped that it involved freeing those unfortunate people.
"You are very like John. Your primary concern is the lives of others. You're clever and kind and brave, but you're different. Why are you different?" Sherlock's eyes narrowed at her and it took her a second to realize that he was thinking aloud and not necessarily talking to her. They sat in silence for several minutes, Sherlock gazing, enraptured, at the woman in front of him like she was a puzzle for him to solve. That blush came creeping back into her cheeks the longer he looked at her. She didn't to break the silence out of some subconscious fear that she'd be disrupting something important, so she just waited. "Saving them is part of the plan," he finally said as if there hadn't been any sort of break in their conversation.
"The plan?"
"Yes. On New Years, just after midnight, the Prime Minister is going give a speech to welcome the new millennium. Magnussen will be there to silently assert his power, so we're going to snatch it from him while he's not looking. How? By destroying his lair, Appledore. There is a wing of Appledore that he calls the Vault and that is where the Nexus Programme operates. Once we've taken that from him, the man himself is easy to get to. Soon thereafter, this country will be free of his tyranny," Sherlock explained.
"Why are you trusting me with all of this?" Molly asked, frowning again. He divulged to her a wealth of sensitive information and he'd only even known of her existence for a few days.
"Because you saved my life," he responded without hesitation. Molly felt her breath hitch in her throat and she watched him wordlessly as he slid from the bed to his feet. He towered over her, but she wasn't intimidated. In fact, there was something oddly caring about his scrutinizing gaze that made her feel safe. He brushed his fingers along her shoulder and she felt like she'd been shocked. Maybe she'd been wrong about how he felt about touch. "Rest. I'll return in an hour with food and we'll discuss what to expect from your new life among the Baker Street Runners."
"Okay." Molly watched Sherlock go and from that moment on, she was in love.
Over a course of months, Molly became an integral member of the revolutionary group known as the Baker Street Runners. It was funny for her, looking back and thinking how this organization had once been nothing more to her than a band of criminals on the news. Now that she saw their view and knew that she could do something to change the desolate place the world had become, everything was different. She almost forgot what the life working in the morgue at St. Bart's had felt like.
If someone came and offered her her old life back, nothing could make her accept it. Where once she'd had no one but the occasional unsuccessful date and the bodies that came into the morgue, she now had friends and a cause. Molly the pathologist may have lived a predicable life in a cozy flat with a respectable and worthwhile job, but Molly the freedom fighter got to be helpful to the living and experience the joy of having people who cared about her.
From John, a doctor and veteran of World War VI, she learnt to use a gun. From Mary, a legacy of resistance fighters, she learnt the ways of the Runners, their code languages and system of values. Sherlock taught her more than anyone else. He showed her how to walk silent and unseen, how to hack an interface, how to ride a speeder, how to fight with just her body, and how to read a person like a book. With each passing day, she came to love him more and more. Sometimes he was frustrating and rude and made her want to tear her hair out, but at the end of it all, she was still deeply in love with him. He was as beautiful and brilliant as a star in the night. Whether Sherlock returned her feelings or not was unclear to her. She usually assumed from his cold manner that he didn't, but one chilly night in October shook that idea.
They had received warning from Bill Wiggins that Irene had discovered Sherlock's location. Naturally, she arrived just as they were about to leave. Before Molly could whip out her gun, Sherlock grabbed her and dragged her out back to his speeder. Pulling her unceremoniously on with him, they raced away down the dark alley.
"We have to go back!" she pleaded with him. She despised the thought of abandoning the Watsons.
"No. They can take care of themselves," he growled back. Molly was so full of anger in that moment that she couldn't speak, so she was forced to just sit there with her arms around Sherlock's middle and the wind beating mercilessly against her face, the Watsons' house growing smaller and smaller behind them. When they finally stopped and took shelter in an abandoned block of flats in a neighborhood that had seen hellish rioting the previous year, the first thing Molly did after sliding off the speeder was slap Sherlock hard across the face. She didn't know what was more astonishing about it: the fact that it had felt good or the fact that he had done nothing to stop her.
"Why me? I was the person farthest from you when she came, but you grabbed me. Why? Why did you go at all? Why did you leave your friends to an uncertain fate, you coward!?" Molly barked as Sherlock rubbed his jaw.
"I was protecting all of you! She didn't see us. She'll assume she was tricked and leave the John and Mary alone. Even if she wasn't fooled, they can handle her. You, on the other hand, have a price on your head just as I do. I brought you into this life; you are my responsibility," Sherlock shot back.
"I'm a grown woman-"
"And if you had stayed, you would have put everyone in danger, including yourself," Sherlock cut her off succinctly, his glare like blue fire.
"I-" Molly began to voice her retort, but she couldn't finish. She knew, frustratingly, that he was right and hung her head in resignation. "I'm sorry that I called you a coward. I didn't mean it," she apologized as she felt her anger fade. His shoulders, which had been rigid, fell as he relaxed and his expression softened.
"I know." They walked through the halls of the building in silence for a few minutes, not knowing what else to say to each other and taking the time to cool down. They stopped at an arbitrary flat door and Sherlock placed his hand on the lock. A faint light glowed from within his eyes for a second and then the door slid creakily open. She'd been rather alarmed the first time she'd seen him affect an electronic object just by touching it. He had then explained to her that part of the reason he'd made such a great Component of the Nexus was his superior ability to manipulate his own bioelectricity, which revealed what he had meant when he'd said that he'd become too powerful to be controlled. Apparently all the other Components could only use their ability while they were asleep and with the assistance of the mainframe, but Sherlock had surpassed that by miles. Molly hadn't seen anything yet he couldn't manipulate. The door was easy.
"How long are we staying?" she asked with a sigh.
"A day or two, depending on whether John and Mary catch up with us."
"Well, I guess this is goodnight then." Molly picked one corner of the room and curled up on the hard floor. She felt a lingering twinge of anger at Sherlock, since this situation made her feel useless, and turned over to face the wall. It was more than a little surprising for her when he lay down beside her an draped his coat over the both of them.
"The temperature is dropping. We should share body heat," he told when she turned over to frown at him. This was an acceptable excuse, so she closed her eyes. They lay there together quietly for some time, neither doing anything to disturb the other, but just when Molly was about to fall asleep, Sherlock spoke softly to her. "It's important for you to know that I value your safety." This brought a sleepy smile to her lips and without thinking she rested her forehead affectionately against his chest. He surprised her by not pulling away and instead placing his hand on her shoulder. That night, Molly dreamt of a better future and Sherlock was there with her, a throng of dark haired children happily playing around them. Sherlock dreamt of the past and horrors too great for Molly to imagine.
The first dozen conditioning sessions had begun with them restraining him. Now he just sat there in his pure white cell room as they administered the cocktail of drugs to him. He'd learnt that fighting only made things worse. His eyelids grew heavy and his vision blurred until he'd fallen unconscious.
He was back home, but everything was bright and warped. His mother was there, screaming at him as she morphed into some horrific boney creature. He was afraid. So afraid. Everything came alive and started to attack him and he fought back, shrieking for it to stop. A white light appeared in the distance and he struggled tooth and nail to reach it for what seemed like an eternity.
He awoke, but for a moment he didn't trust that he had. He was feeling a strange sense of displacement, like his body wasn't there. When he opened his eyes, he realized that his scrawny, unclothed body was in a stasis cell. After a second, he recalled that he'd done this before. Through the water and glass, he could see Magnussen looking in at him with a woman in a white coat. They were talking about...him?
"He's doing very well learning to ghost along the signals we're sending him. He's already at stage two. He's also showing progress in dissociating his mind from his body. I'm confident that by the time he's taught to follow orders without question, his sense of self will be gone," the woman said and Magnussen showed his teeth in a wicked smile.
"Excellent. If he doesn't make the cut, though, let me know. I want to wrap him up special when I send him to his big brother in a box." The bearded man flicked the glass and giggled when Sherlock writhed. He flicked it again, but this time it created a strange rippling effect before the boy's eyes, warping his reality again until he stood in Magnussen's office.
There was more muscle on him and he was much taller now. He was standing like statue with his hands behind his back, staring forward while Magnussen and another Component, Janine, were in his periphery. Magnussen was licking Janine's face, telling her it was a message to be delivered to Lady Smallwood whilst Sherlock was off eliminating the husband.
The world morphed again so that he was standing before a pyre of those whose bodies had not been able to handle the strain of Nexus for very long. Even knowing that many of them were mere children, he felt nothing. He was only following a command.
His surroundings changed yet again. He couldn't see straight, but he was walking briskly towards a blonde woman he recognized from his dreams.
Sherlock's eyes opened and he shot upright, yelling as if he were in terrible pain. Molly was there, trying to get ahold of him and calm him down, but he angrily pushed her away and she was slammed against the wall. He scrambled to his feet, intent on running. Running from what, he wasn't quite sure.
"Sherlock! Stand down, mate. Stand down." John Watson's command reached him loud and clear and he stopped in his tracks. The extreme emotions which had addled his mind began to fade as he stood there in the pose he had been trained to take when he was receiving orders. "It's all right. You were only dreaming," John assured him and he steadily let go of the tension inside himself.
It seemed that the Watsons had handled the Irene situation and had arrived only a few minutes ago. Mary was helping a slightly startled Molly to her feet. Sherlock felt a sudden flash of guilt when he looked at the brunette. She'd only ever tried to help him and he'd hurt her. He was better than that. He had to be better than that.
"Molly...I'm sorry," he admitted softly, taking a step closer to her. He worried that he'd damaged what he had with her. Nothing was quite so comfortable as being around Molly because they completely trusted each other. He did not want to face the pain of having experienced that for the first time with someone, only to have it snatched away because of a moment of weakness on his part. In her typical fashion, she surprised him.
"You were dreaming about your old life, weren't you?" she inquired, offering him a sad smile. He slowly nodded in return. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Well, if you ever do, my ears are open." With those words, it finally hit Sherlock why Molly was different. She thought of him as a human being.
On Christmas Day, Sherlock asked Molly to cut his hair. He needed it short so that he could link to the mainframe when they got into the Vault without his hair getting in the way. She reluctantly agreed and sat with him in the cramped space that they were currently hiding out in adjacent to an underground railway, using a pair of almost literally ancient scissors to sheer off a good portion of his lovely black curls as neatly as she could. The Watsons were on a supplies run, so the place was quiet but for the snipping sounds and the occasional tube roaring nearby. The shortening of Sherlock's hair in the back revealed the ridges of a V shaped set of scars. Molly traced her fingers over them and his whole body tensed up with a violent shudder.
"I'm so sorry!" Molly apologized hastily, silently berating herself for not considering how touching his scars might make him feel as she drew her hand away.
"It's fine. They're primary link points, so they're a bit sensitive. Just give me some forewarning before you touch them," Sherlock replied, his voice ever so slightly strained.
"Oh. Er...can...can I-"
"Yes." Smiling shyly even though he wasn't facing her, she bent forward and pressed her lips to the marks. His involuntary reaction was far less pronounced this time and he looked around at her, vague astonishment in his features. Their faces were close, closer than they'd even been before, and Molly started to feel a magnetic pull, like something inside her was telling her to close the gap between them, to kiss him like she'd been wanting to for months. That feeling grew stronger when she became aware that Sherlock's eyes were hooded as he gazed at her, but she pulled away, convincing herself that that path would only lead to embarrassment and the destruction of whatever it was she did have with him.
"Sorry. I should finish cutting your hair." He nodded curtly in reply and turned back around to allow her to continue the job. She noted another scar on Sherlock's neck where Jim had had a cyber chip imbedded and she remembered Mary telling her that she'd been the one to remove Sherlock's. It had been causing him terrible agony since the moment Magnussen had discovered that he'd defected, but he'd borne the pain with a straight face, trained as he was to ignore the sensation, until it became too much and he snapped. He'd almost killed her, but she knocked him unconscious and pulled out the chip. Those little slips of metal allowed Magnussen to keep Nexus in check, Sherlock had later explained. He'd wanted Jim's for the information it contained about Jim and Nexus' recent activities at the time. "What did you do with your chip when you woke up?" Molly asked suddenly as she started evening up parts of Sherlock's hair.
"I destroyed it immediately," he answered simply without questioning why she'd even brought it up. She finished her task, setting aside her scissors, and he turned to face her once more. "Thank you," he murmured. It was the first time he'd ever said that to her.
The Baker Street Runners just barely had everything in place by New Years Eve and the mission was by no means going to be easy, especially with Sherlock's orders not to kill any of the Components guarding Appledore. They weren't just human CCTVs, they were highly trained genius assassins, and that made defending oneself without shooting to kill a bit of a challenge. Nevertheless, not a one of the Runners would dare to disobey Sherlock's order, understanding as they did that these people were being controlled.
There was also the challenge of not causing any security breach notifications to be sent to Magnussen while he was out. If he got wind of what was happening at Appledore, they could very quickly find government troops raining down on them. With each potential complication, this mission was looking more and more like a no win scenario. What kept everyone going was Sherlock's unwavering confidence that the plan would work ("I designed it, after all"). Everything was going to be okay because they had Sherlock and Sherlock knew what he was doing. As amazing as Sherlock undeniably was, Molly didn't like this mentality. The others were putting him on a pedestal and forgetting that he was a human being capable of making mistakes. She knew that he was aware of the amount of faith the Runners put in him and the responsibility that entailed. She saw how it plagued him in the way he seemed to lose his energy whenever he thought no one could see him.
On the night of the mission, as they were about to leave the filthy little hovel they'd made their base in recent days, Sherlock approached Molly. He did not put on the façade he always presented to the others. He came to her looking tired and lonely.
"Will you come with me to the Observation Room?" he asked solemnly.
"Why? Won't I just get in your way?" He had always made it clear that he prefer to do his part for the revolutionaries alone. She couldn't see why he'd change about that.
"On the contrary. The preparations will go faster if I have someone with me, especially someone of medical training. Additionally, the task will likely prove to be a great strain on my body. If you're there, you can monitor me," Sherlock reasoned. His sincerity and the openness in his face as his features formed a silent plea broke Molly's heart over him for the thousandth time.
"Whatever you need," she told him with a brave, slightly teary smile. He hesitantly reached up for a moment, as if he wanted to touch her face, but his hand fell before he could complete the action. Instead he gave her a grateful nod and awkwardly proceeded out to the private vehicle that he and now she as well would be taking to Appledore. While all the other Runners were busy sneaking in, Sherlock's plan was to go in through the front door. How he would manage this, he had yet to share with anyone. Molly got the urge to ask as he fired up the PV, but then thought better of it. He'd tell her if it was important for her to know or else she'd just find out when they got there.
The drive was long and quiet and took them to a lovely part of the country the likes of which Molly had not seen before except on television. She had never thought rolling green hills quite so beautiful as she did now that she saw them actually on either side of her. This was where the wealthiest British citizens made their home. If you were caught in these parts without proof of a certain level of income, you'd be arrested. Molly had read a couple of forbidden novels about less fortunate people running around in the wilderness, evading the authorities, just because they wanted to bask in the beauty and purity of the country. In one, the protagonist was shot and killed by the end, and in the other, the heroine developed a romance with an heiress and living happily ever after at her estate. Sadly, the first was obviously more realistic than the second. They had to hope that a police officer didn't pull them over or they ran the risk of experiencing ending number one. They passed many homes which were holding New Years celebrations, allowing Molly to glimpse dazzling light shows. For once, Sherlock didn't seem inclined to ruin her appreciation with cynicism.
About a mile from Appledore's gates, Sherlock stopped the PV and they both got out. After hiding it among the foliage by the side of the road, they started to walk the rest of the way. Molly's antique wristwatch beeped when it struck midnight and she stopped. Sherlock scowled at her, but she couldn't help but smile a little.
"We're in the new millennium," she muttered, mostly to herself.
"Yes, now come along so we can make it actually mean something." Sherlock sounded rather irritated, but he held his hand out to her in a gesture of companionship. Her smile broadened into a grin as she took it and they continued on their way, hand in hand. His long, partially covered fingers enveloped her own small, bare ones in a wonderful warmth and even though it was very possible that they went to their deaths, she couldn't be happier in that moment.
Molly never could have predicted the method Sherlock used to get through the front gate. The only two Components stationed outside the house itself were standing on either side. She watched from behind a shrubbery as first one Component collapsed and then the other soon followed. Sherlock had merely touched the backs of their necks and now they both lay unconscious on the ground.
"How did you do that?" Molly asked as she came out of her hiding place.
"I influenced the cyber chips in their necks which I will be needing you to remove now." He drew a scalpel, a pair of tweezers, and a roll of bio mesh from his coat pocket and handed them to her. These weren't exactly the best conditions for surgery of any kind, but Molly's hand was steady knowing that she was freeing these people from enslavement. "Now give me one of the chips. We'll need them to pass through without setting off any alarms," Sherlock stated once she'd acquired the little metal slips. She handed him one of the bloodstained things and they were able to go through the gate.
A long, winding white path led up to the front doors of the grand house. It didn't look quite how Molly had imagined it from Sherlock's vivid descriptions, but she hadn't really expected it to. The doors slid open for them without objection and they found themselves in a stark white, spotless interior.
"It is just as I remember, right down to the bizarre art," Sherlock commented softly. They didn't encounter any security in the actual house portion of the house, much to Molly's relief, but she knew there would be on the other side of the doors to the Vault. Her nervousness made her silent, but it compelled Sherlock to say snide things about Magnussen's art collection. "Jim once speculated that that is a minimalist representation of genitalia. What inspired him to think that, I'll never know." He pointed to a pair of bent rectangular shapes on the wall beside the doors to the Vaults. Molly let out a slightly hysterical giggle that was thankfully not very loud. It took with it a lot of the tension she was feeling and that allowed her to understand why Sherlock had made the joke. He was trying to help her relax. By the time she refocused, he'd already dropped the Component waiting for them on the other side of the doors.
He led her down a spiral staircase to a long hallway lined with identical doors and he clearly knew exactly where he was going because he walked straight for the last door on the left.
"This is the Observation Room. There are twenty one Components inside, but only one of them is awake. I will knock that one out and you will begin administering sedative to the others so that we can safely disconnect them from the mainframe, understood?" Sherlock whispered and Molly nodded in confirmation. Taking that as his cue, he commanded the doors to slide open and had is fingers on the Component guard's neck before they could even raise a hand. It was almost frightening to watch.
The center of the room, there were twenty outward facing seats, each filled with a sleeping human being that was connected to a strange nest of glowing blue cables that hung from the ceiling. Wiry claw like headdresses at the end of each cable grabbed the backs of the Components' heads, presumably creating the link to Nexus.
"I knew a few of these here. Jennifer...Violet...Soo Lin...Magnussen thought she wasn't going to survive, but here she still is." There was a ghost of a smile on Sherlock's lips as he spoke.
"And she'll survive this too," Molly put in reassuringly as she took a bundle of syringes from the pouch on her belt and handed half of them to Sherlock. Together, they administered sedative to each of the twenty sleeping Components. Molly watched carefully when Sherlock disconnected the young woman he'd called Soo Lin and mimicked the process with those nearest her.
"John and Mary will arrive in approximately ten minutes to take them to safety," Sherlock reminded his confederate as they laid the bodies by the doors. That done, he took a seat in one of the empty padded chairs and pulled down the corresponding cable like this was routine for him (and it had been at one time). It latched onto his head and he let out a seething growl of pain which made Molly gasp. A mesmerizing bright light emanated from his open eyes once he was fully connected.
"Component 221 detected. System commencing lockdown," a smooth, feminine voice that could only be the Nexus mainframe announced loudly as the glowing blue cables suddenly turned red. Sherlock was unfazed and a moment later the voice came again, "System override." With that, the cables returned to their original colour. Molly checked Sherlock's pulse and found that it was a lot more rapid than she would have expected. Whatever he was doing, he needed to take it a bit more slowly or he was going to be risking cardiac arrest and she did not have the tools she would need to help him if that happened.
"Sherlock, I think you might be spreading yourself too thin. Your heart is pounding." She really hoped that he could hear her, because if not, things were going to go downhill quickly. She checked his pulse again at measured intervals and noted that he seemed to be trying to get his heart to slow down. "Good job, Sherlock," she told him, patting his wrist affectionately. He gave a small smile, although not directly at her. He was staring straight ahead, presumably unable to see at the moment. Molly wondered if she should close his eyelids for him but thought better of it when his fingers wrapped firmly around her wrist. She continued to regularly check his pulse to make sure he was still okay. It wasn't long before John and Mary showed up, out of breath from running.
"Donovan, Lestrade, and Anderson have all of the bombs planted in their proper places," Mary informed Molly as she lifted two unconscious Components into her arms.
"How long do we have?"
"About a half hour," John answered after glancing at his timer. "Can he hear us?" He pointed to Sherlock, who had barely moved since he'd begun his task.
"Yeah, I think so."
"Right. Good. Well, we'll be back for more." With that, the couple carried out the first set of Components and Molly kept monitoring Sherlock's heart rate. The Watsons came back many times, but Molly paid them little mind. She was focusing on how Sherlock's pulse seemed to be edging towards the slow end.
"Sherlock...what are you doing? Your heart is beating too slowly now." There was no trace of a smile on the man's face now. It was utterly blank. Molly's words did nothing to alter whatever course he'd taken as his heart rate continued to drop, the brightness of the light in his eyes with it until he closed them involuntarily. "Sherlock!" the brunette yelled. He was slipping away from her fast and there wasn't anything she could do about it.
"Molly, we've got to go. There's not much time left. Come on, Sherlock. Hurry up and disconnect," John stated as he and Mary returned for the last time. They both stopped short when they realized that Molly was crying and holding Sherlock's face in her hands.
"No no no no no..." she muttered before turning out her entire belt pouch to try and find something that could help.
"Molly, he's gone. We have to go now," Mary told her, trying to sound stern, but failing just slightly in her own distress over the sight of a lifeless Sherlock.
"No, he's not. He can't be. I won't accept it and I'm not leaving without him," Molly half growled as she placed her hand frantically over his heart to see if she could detect any signs of a beat. There was nothing.
"Upload complete," Nexus abruptly announced and Molly's ragged breaths hitched in her throat.
"System reboot." Nexus had a different voice now, one that was all too familiar.
"Sherlock?" Molly called out in astonishment.
"It's alright, Molly. Go. I've almost completed the virus that will permanently delete the Nexus code from interfaces as it spreads. I'm confident that I'll have it sent out by the time of detonation. I am Nexus now."
"No. You're a human being. Get back in your body right now and come with us," Molly shot back.
"I was never a human being. Even when I was a boy, I was called a machine. And then I wasn't a person either. Now I don't even have a body tying me down. What does that leave me? I'm a machine, not a man, and no one mourns a machine. Go, Molly, while you still can."
"You are a person, Sherlock. Just because others have tried to take that from you doesn't mean it's not true. Your humanity is inherent and no lack of emotion or identity changes that. You are brilliant and infuriating and I love you, so come back and let me prove it to you," Molly responded with something dancing on the thin line between passion and rage. John and Mary stood stunned. The room fell silent but for the quiet hum of Nexus' hardware. "Don't you dare ignore me, Sherlock Holmes. I said come back," Molly suddenly barked before she slapped Sherlock hard across the face. He sprang to life, dragging in a huge gasp, his eyes flying open to reveal a new shining light.
"File sent," Nexus announced, it's feminine voice returned.
"It's done." Sherlock spoke from his own mouth for the first time since linking up and there was a cybernetic layer to his words that was slightly disconcerting, but none of the others cared. They were all focused on the fact that he was apparently at least partially back in his body.
"Download complete." At that, Sherlock reached up with trembling fingers to disconnect himself. Molly hastily assisted him, using her sleeve to wipe away some of the blood that trickled down when the cable detached from him. He fell into Molly's arms and she pulled him to his feet as best she could. John rushed over to help support him and the four of them began to run as fast as they could from the Vault and Appledore. They only had few minutes before the entire place would be nothing but a hole in the ground. The transport vehicles that carried the Components and the other rebels were gone, leaving only a large PV for them in case they did make it out. Molly pulled Sherlock into the back with her while the Watsons took the front and had them speeding away. They'd only just gotten beyond the gate when there was a huge explosion that rocked the PV and lit up the sky with fire.
"It's over," Sherlock rasped into Molly's chest as they held onto each other like it was the end of the world. She didn't care that his blood was dripping all over her. The only thing that mattered now was getting him to a hospital and making sure that he lived.
There wasn't a single news network going into the new year that didn't have Charles Augustus Magnussen's name all over it. The end of the Prime Minister's millennium speech had been punctuated by MI5 operatives swarming in to arrest Magnussen. The moment Sherlock Holmes was released from the hospital, a press conference was called and he revealed everything to the public. The lies, the corruption, the gross violation of human rights. He exposed it all. An election was held which resulted in overwhelming changes to the structure of the British government and a small rehabilitation programme was started for former Components. Molly Hooper was invited to return to her position at St. Bart's, John and Mary were reunited with their daughter, and Sherlock was allowed to see his parents for the first time in twenty years.
They lived in a lovely great house in the country, the very same place Sherlock had spent his childhood. He brought Molly and the Watsons with him when he came and his mother nearly burst into tears when she first set eyes on him.
"My boy, my dear little Sherlock!" she exclaimed. He awkwardly patted her back in response to her bone crushing hug. "Who's this lovely young lady?" she asked after seeing Molly's nervous form over his shoulder. The old woman let him pull away and he beckoned for Molly to come stand beside him.
"Mum, this is my friend, Molly Hooper. She is the reason I'm alive." His mother beamed at Molly, who smiled back shyly.
"It's wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Holmes." The pathologist shook his mother's hand and gasped when she too was pulled into a tight embrace.
"Thank you so much for saving my son."
"I...it was...y-you're welcome," Molly stammered, clearly not very sure what to say to being thanked for keeping someone alive. His mother eventually let Molly go and started towards the house.
"I had better find your father. I think he's off showing your other friends and their darling little girl the raspberry bush he's so proud of." They watched quietly as his mother trekked back across the field and were only interrupted when a new voice came from behind them.
"It's good to see you home again, brother dear." Without a second of hesitation, Sherlock swung around, fist at the ready to slam the man behind him right in the jaw. Mycroft Holmes lay sprawled in the grass in his expensive clothes when Sherlock looked around completely.
"Your mere presence appalls me," he spat as Mycroft got to his feet.
"Is that your brother?" Molly asked. Sherlock couldn't read what feeling she was expressing in her tone, but he found out soon after he nodded in confirmation. She slapped Mycroft, nearly causing him to fall over again. "How dare you show your face to him after what you did."
"What I did? Are you referring by any chance to the time I saved Sherlock's life?" Mycroft retorted bitterly.
"You call handing him over to Magnussen to cover your own arse saving him?!"
"Is that what Magnussen told him? If that were true, I would certainly deserve the abuse you've both heaped upon me, but I'm afraid you're wrong. Magnussen put me in a position where I had a choice between handing over Sherlock or watching him die. Naturally, I chose the option with my brother still being alive. Ever since then, I have been working under that man's nose to help Sherlock," Mycroft corrected, his tone rather snippy. Molly looked a little bit sorry that she'd slapped him.
"Do mum and dad know?" Sherlock responded, his face stoic once more. He was still angry, but he'd deal with it later.
"Yes, since the very beginning. The honesty they are looking for is from you, brother mine. I must be going now. Things are rather busy at the office these days. By the way, thank you, Dr. Hooper, for all that you have done." With a somewhat forced smile, Mycroft abruptly ended the conversation by turning on his heel and wandering away.
"Why is everyone thanking me?" Molly inquired softly.
"How many people do you suppose they've met who've shown such care for me? It's also a way for them to subtly encourage me to reciprocate." Sherlock liked the way that made Molly blush and he stepped closer to her. She smiled sadly and looked away.
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to."
"But I do care about you, Molly," he told her very seriously and his eyes widened in shock when she took his face in her petite hands and pulled him into a heated kiss. Something that had been festering inside of him for months burst free and he hungrily returned her kiss, wrapping his arms around her to drew her closer. She was soft and warm and sweet tasting. Those things alone were enough to coax a small whimper from his throat. She melded her lips with his, licking them apart so that she could suck at his bottom lip. "I love you," he blurted out when she drew back, sounding just as vulnerable as he felt. She grinned and rested her forehead against his. She was aware that this was new and a bit scary for him, but she was doing what she always did: supporting him.
He had no idea how to navigate a life with no cause at its forefront, but he was confident he'd be able to find his way if Molly Hooper was by his side.
A/N: Looking back on it, this was pretty dark, but I tried to give it a optimistic ending. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it.