Why, a sherlock fanfic

"He's been shot."

That sentence keeps playing over and over in her head. John kept on talking but she didn't hear a word. Flashes from this morning come rushing back to her. His eyes. Staring at her, ice cold.

She couldn't help it. Well maybe she could have. Maybe she didn't have to slap him. But fuck it, she did. He was so high she didn't even understand how he was able to function on a relatively normal level. So she slapped him. Hard. Three times in front of everyone. And how does he respond? With a sassy remark about her failed engagement.

And that's where they last left off. She wanted to check up on him later that day, but she didn't get a chance to. Honestly, she just couldn't bring herself to pick up the phone and call him. She was just so angry. And he didn't seem to mind either. He left immediately after getting his alert on the phone, not a single glance back in her direction.

And now she's sitting here outside emergency surgery with John.

"He's been shot."

She doesn't even know what to make of it. The words are so foreign to her. He, Sherlock, has been shot. She understands it, but she doesn't. The words makes sense, just not when they are placed together.

A few hours pass by. Maybe it's days. She can't tell. But a surgeon finally comes out.

"Holmes, Sherlock?"

John shoots up faster than what she thinks is humanly possible and literally runs towards the surgeon. She can't make out what they are saying, she's not sure she wants to. After what feels like ages, they shake hands and John turns back heading towards her. She doesn't look up, afraid to see John's face.

"Molly?"

This is it. She looks up.

"Yeah?"

"They're gonna transfer him to recovery." And John smiles at her.

"All in all, Mr. Holmes you're quite lucky. Had you fallen forward, I honestly couldn't say I would be here speaking to you right now."

At this, Mycroft can't help but chuckle, "It's not a coincidence my brother fell on his back. The universe is rarely so lazy. He was shot, realised the bullet hadn't passed through, and he proceeded accordingly."

They all look at him for a second and then continue on with their conversation. The doctor continues speaking, answering a few questions from John and Mrs. Hudson. Meanwhile, Mycroft just stands there shaking his head, and if Sherlock was paying attention, he'd probably be doing the same thing.

Molly stays quiet, unsure of what to say or do. She doesn't even know where to look. If she looks down, they might think something's wrong, if she looks up she'll look like an idiot. And looking at Sherlock, well looking at Sherlock isn't even an option. She doesn't want to see him like that. With IV's in his arms, his face pale, and looking as if it's taking all his strength just to breathe.

She can tell he's looking at her tho. She can feel it. But still, she can't bring herself to look at him.

After a few more minutes the doctor finally says, "Ok well I believe it's time we let Mr. Holmes here rest. If one of you wants to stay over night with him, that's fine, but it can only be limited to 1 person, sorry."

"Molly." (cough)

They all turn to look at him.

John is the first to speak, "What was that Sherlock?"

But he's not looking at John. He's looking straight at her.

"Molly. Stay." (cough) "Please?"

She finally looks at him. The room is quiet. The two just stare at each other. Then finally she nods her head, agreeing to stay.

They all start to leave, but not before Mrs. Hudson walks over and gives Sherlock a kiss on the cheek and then says, "You had us ever so worried Sherlock. Do be more careful next time you break into an office dear."

Sherlock smiles at her, "Of course."

John looks to Molly, "I'll be back in the morning. Just text what you'll need and I'll bring it."

She half smiles, "Thanks John."

They hug and John and Mrs. Hudson leave. When she looks back to Sherlock, his eyes are closed and he's laying still. She walks closer to his bed.

"Where's George?"

"Who?"

"George. Lestrade. I thought I heard him earlier."

"Greg. He was here but he had to leave before you fully woke up. Said he'll be back tomorrow."

He just nods, his eyes remaining shut.

"How are you feeling?"

"Ok, considering a flat lined earlier."

She refuses to acknowledge that happened so she doesn't respond. After a minute his eyes open.

"Just checking if you were still there."

"I am."

"I can see that."

They both look at each other. There's so much they both want to say, but they both just remain silent. Then suddenly-

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"

Looking down at his hands, Sherlock speaks up first, "Molly I'm sorry for what I did and the way I acted. I know I said I would contact you if I needed someone to talk to and I didn't." At this he looks up at her face, he sees she's not angry with him. Feeling a bit more confident he adds, "But it really was for a case. This case in fact. This case that has caused me to get a bullet in the chest and to be bed ridden in this hospital. So all in all, I do believe my apology should be accepted and that we should just move pass all of that." He's smiling at her now and she can't help but to smile back at him. "And you. You have no reason to apologise Molly. You had every right to smack me. I was extremely high."

Her smile widens, "Oh I know. How you were even moving about like a normal human being is beyond me."

"Superior mind. High tolerance for narcotics."

"That's not something to brag about Sherlock."

His smile disappears and he adopts a more solemn look. "You're right. I'm sorry"

"Don't apologise if you don't mean it."

He just smiles at her.

"Anyway, that's not why I'm apologising."

His smile fades and his eyebrows furrow together. "Then why are you apologising?"

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry that I let you walk away while we were both that upset."

"That's hardly under your control Molly. If I walk away, than that is because I chose to start walking. That has nothing to do with you."

"Either way. I just don't want us to separate from each other on bad terms. No matter what. If you hadn't pulled through, or if you didn't fall on your back, that would have been the last time we would have seen each other."

"Molly, it's not issue. I'm okay. I'm here so you worrying about if that were our last interaction with each other is irrelevant."

"It doesn't matter. I don't ever want us to walk away from each other if one of us is upset with the other. I'm sorry I haven't expressed that to you sooner, because I think if you had known, you wouldn't have left without us resolving the issue."

He nods his head. "Noted. Molly Hopper, I will not walk away from you until any of our future arguments are resolved."

She smiles at him. "Good."

The room falls silent, but it's a comfortable silence. Molly takes a seat in the recliner next to Sherlock's bed. It's been quiet for a while and Molly thinks Sherlock has fallen asleep. She looks over at him. His breathing slow and constant, his face relaxed. She likes it when Sherlock sleeps. It comforts her. She's about to fall asleep herself when he suddenly asks, " Why did you and Tom break up?"

She opens her eyes to look at him, but his eyes are still shut. She can see he's curious, but he's trying to keep his face indifferent.

"It just wasn't working out. We're both too different."

"I am sorry by the way. Truly. I want you to be happy Molly."

She smiles at him and closes her eyes. "It's ok. It's better it happened now rather than later. It would've never worked out."

He opens his eyes and looks at her. "Why?"

"He just.. isn't my type."

Sherlock smiles and closes his eyes.