"She still isn't talking to you eh?" Sherlock ignored John as he cradled Rosie close and he looked to her before him and then out into the park.
"Why are we here exactly?" He asked sitting up and then back and then looking around.
"Because Rosie needs fresh air, you think being kept in our flat is okay for her early development?"
"She doesn't only see our flat. She see's 's' home too." Sherlock sighed heavily and looked around one more time before noticing how many birds were flying about.
"I guess that's true, she also spends time at Molly's." The mere mention of her name made Sherlock pause. His brain flashed back to 3 months ago. He had to save her, he did save her. And now, now she won't even look at him.
"Yes, she does see many people's homes." He said and looked from Rosie again then up the birds that started to sit right above them. "John, I don't mean to sound like a cock, but unless you want shite all over yourself, I suggest we take Rosie back to what she knows, and keep her away from the birds." He said and he noticed John look up at the birds before standing quicker than Sherlock would have thought.
"So are we really not going to talk about Molly not talking to you?" John asked as he moved Rosie around his hip until he and her, were comfortable.
"I told you and Mycroft not to say anything. Let her believe what she wants." Sherlock looked out and about before shrugging off Johns worried gaze. "She will talk to me again one day, and when she does, I will sit her down and talk to her. But until then, let her hate me." He said and looked down Baker st. as they started to walk home. He noticed Lestrades car pulling up and saw that he rushed to the door, banging on it before forcing it open.
"Was that-"
"Seems our services are needed Watson." Sherlock looked to him before walking just a bit faster so he could meet Lestrade upstairs. He walked up and nodded to Mrs. Hudson on the way up before stopping when he saw him on the phone.
"He's here. It's Molly." He told Sherlock and he snatched the phone right away before he noticed two things, one, the phone call was already 30 minutes long, and two, he could already hear the crying coming from the other line.
"Molly, what's happened?" He asked her and turned towards the happy face on the wall because he knew if he started at that he might not get distracted. He started to trace it as she told him that she woke up in a cell, that she was freezing and everything was wet or damp. "Where were you last night before you went home?" Sherlock asked her and she blubbered about being at the lab because she had papers and he started moving, not caring that the others were already lagging behind him.
"Sherlock please, I know I've been rude but please-"
"If you think for a second I wouldn't do everything in my power to find you Molly, you really don't know me." He told her as he hailed a cab and headed to her lab. She said that her phone was at half it's battery and he walked into the lab and saw her charger with little stickers on it. "You were charging it last night, was it on or off?" He asked and she paused.
"It was on." She told him and he nodded and started to deduce how long her battery would last. "Are you at the lab?"
"Yes, and I am looking at everything. Your charger is here, you were taken from here." He told her and looked around. He tried to see if anything was weird, or out of place, or even added to other things. "What papers were you working on?" He asked going to her desk. She rattled off the name and he saw that the paperwork was mostly done, just missing the last three signatures for three tests and he looked around her desk. "Where do you remember doing the paperwork?"
"By my phone." She told him and he looked across the room to the charger and then to the table in front of him.
"Did you at any time move some of them over to your desk?" He asked her and she hummed for a long moment before declining. "Well someone was going through these papers, and moved them all to your desk."
"Why? The case I was working on was a standard thing." She whispered and he heard her panic and he tried to say something but before he could put his vocal cords to use, she was saying she was sorry and that she didn't want to be beaten. She started to scream no over and over again and Sherlock closed his eyes. He memorized her voice, it echoed, he heard squeaking and there were two different types. It was an old bed, and there were defenitaly water sources near by because the person's shoes were squeaking.
"Molly!" He shouted when a whack was heard and he shouted her name again before the line when dead. He looked at Lestrades phone before growling and throwing it hard out into the hallway.
"That was mine." He heard Lestrades voice and he turned back to the papers. He looked over the names, and he looked at the tests, she had been right, all standard ones when coming in for a check up for a man this age.
"I need to talk to him. Mr. Gould." He told Lestrade and clenched his jaw hard.
"What happened? Why did Molly hang up?" John asked and looked over at his friend as he kept looking at the papers.
"The person that took her, came back, saw she was on the phone." Sherlock bit it out and looked back to the papers before looking up at Lestrade. "Did you not hear me, I need to speak to this man. This was Molly's last case, she said she left these papers by her charger." He said and pointed to it across the room making both men turn.
"Well, by all means, Mr. Gould, is a vegetable. Don't you remember me asking you to look into the man who just so happened to run head first into his huge glass window?" He asked Sherlock and he wasn't surprised when he seemed to be thinking about it.
"No, it must have been utterly boring." Sherlock told him and walked closer. "You're telling me that this man is here in the hospital?" He asked Lestrade and he just nodded. "Take me to him."
"Well, come on." The detective led the way, to the stairs, going one up every time until he got to the third floor and he let Sherlock enter the room first.
The man was on his back, white clean sheets, clean face, his arms and legs had some bedsores here and there. And Mr. Gould was a huge man. His head was still hooted up to monitors, waiting for brain waves.
"Why is he still sitting like this if he has no family?" Sherlock asked and looked over his vitals.
"It's in his will."
"How did you know he had no family?" John asked looking over Sherlocks face.
"Because of the bed sores. If he had a wife she would have complained that the nurses weren't doing their jobs, therefore, after months, he wouldn't have them. And if he had kids, they would be in here doing it for them. No child wants to let a stranger take care of their father. But he isn't completely alone. He has to have some kind of family to enforce the will." Sherlock said looking over the mans face before lifting one eyelid and then the other.
"He has a half brother, according to the brother, they barely knew about each other. Something about only seeing each other once a year for camping or something like that." Lestrade shrugged before looking to Sherlock and then John.
"And where is the brother?" John asked and looked towards the room entry.
"He's in Scotland."
"I need his case." Sherlock spoke up and looked to Lestrade before nodding to Watson. "Look over his medical file, anything fishy, call me. I am going to make sure that Molly wasn't taken from her home." He told them and dashed out of the room.
He took the stairs, hailed another cab, and his knee bounced the whole way to the little home of Molly Hooper.