"Mattie, I'm going to be just fine." Molly said, patting the older woman's hand. "I'm sure you will be but ever since your parents died I've had to watch out for you. I can't help but feel worried." The woman fretted as she tucked a nonexistent piece of Molly's hair behind her ear. "I'll be fine. I'm just going to the war office to sign up become a nurse, not to fight the war." Molly smiled. "I've heard stories of bombs being dropped on hospitals before, Molly." Mattie replied very serious. "I'm going to be fine." Molly took guardian's hands and gave them a squeeze. "And who knows, I may even find a husband while I'm taking care of soldiers." she teased. "Where ya going Molls?" a little boy asked as he came outside. His blonde hair was sticking up on one side and he had a blanket clasped in his small hands. "I'm going to become a nurse Tommy" Molly picked the boy up, smiling as he giggled. "What do you think about that?" "Are you gonna save lives?" Tommy asked, rubbing his blanket against his face. "Yes, I will." She giggled as she spun around and set Tommy down. "Just promise me you'll come back, Molly" Mattie said, trying to user Tommy inside. "I promise." Molly kissed Mattie's forehead before turning to Tommy and giving him a kiss. "You be good" She said before grabbing her bicycle and starting down the dirt road towards town. "They would be proud of you." Mattie called to Molly "Especially your father" Molly gave a small smile at the memory of her father and turned around to wave a quick goodbye. She had one last glimpse of the faded letters of the sign, "Mattie's Home for Children", before she was around the bend.
"What on earth have you done, Sherlock?!" Mycroft Holmes yelled, motioning to the disorder of the sitting room. Papers were scattered everywhere. Some had odd green slime on them, some seemed to have been burnt, and a couple may or may not have been on fire still. "I was doing an experiment" rose the reply from the chair in the corner. Sherlock was still in his pajamas and a dressing night shirt even though it was well past noon. His head was resting on the floor and his legs were draped over the back of the chair. His face was turning red, an effect of all the blood rushing to his head. Mycroft sighed. "Sit up this instant. You're acting like a child." "According to some members of this family, I am still a child" Sherlock snapped, straightening himself so that he was laying on the chair, his arms and legs draped over it. "Are we going to have this argument again, Sherlock?" Mycroft sighed. "Mummy already said she doesn't want you to go fight. She wants you here and safe." "You know better than anyone that we need men out there." Sherlock replied, not looking at Mycroft. "How many have died so far?" "I don't deal with the numbers, Sherlock." "Of course you don't. You're all too damn scared that we are losing to the Germans." Sherlock snapped, shifting away from Mycroft. Mycroft sighed. "Mummy is afraid that you will die." "Of course she is. She's my mother." Sherlock huffed. "It's a war. People are going to die. I can't tell anyone that I won't because even I don't know the odds. But I do know that I have to help." "What is this new surge of patriotism coming from?" "It's not patriotism. I know that I can be helpful to the army. I have an above average intelligence. I would flourish in battle and at creating strategies, even you have to admit that. Now, can I sign up or not?" "Well-" "Good, I already have. I leave in a week for France. Nice talking with you, now leave." Sherlock stood up and began to push Mycroft out of the door. "Wait! Does Mummy and Father know?!" Mycroft yelled, rounding on Sherlock. "Do you think I'm dense? Of course they don't." Sherlock scoffed. "What were you thinking?! Do you know how heartbroken Mummy will be?!" "She'll get over it. "Sherlock waved his hand dismissing Mycroft. "Father is too drunk to even notice that I'm gone. He'll be too busy sleeping off of his hangover." He walked out the doors and began to go up the stairs. "Sherlock" Mycroft called after him "just…be careful out there. This isn't some silly puzzle that you can solve." Sherlock turned and nodded. "I will be" he promised before running up the stairs.
A week and a lot of packing later, Molly Hooper was on her way to the hospital. She had said her goodbye to all the other children and had gotten her official nurse's uniform. Having packed her few meager things and set off, she felt excited and nervous for this new adventure. Sherlock was in the first class section of the train, as bored as ever. His mother had seen him off with many tears. Even Mycroft looked sad. But he couldn't dwell on those things now; he was going off to war. He calming folded his hands under his chin and went into his mind palace for the remained of the trip. Going off to war is a funny thing. People leave feeling hopeful and scared and nervous all at the same time. But after a while, you become numb. You shut down because it's easier than dealing with all the death. It's a rude awakening when you come back to your life as it was before and you have to remember how to feel again. You go in thinking you can save the world, but war leaves no one unscathed.
