Before we begin, a few notes. I'll try to keep this quick.
This story contains the following: Graphic violence, strong language, major character deaths, and mentions of suicide. Read at your own risk. Also, each chapter is written in first person, the narrator determined by the bolded italic name in the beginning.
John Watson
"You make the reservations for tonight?" I looked up from my mobile as I heard the soft, feminine voice. Molly was scribbling down some notes on the autopsy she was conducting. Car crash. For a moment, I found myself thinking that it was an incredibly dull way to go. Old habits die hard, I suppose.
I nodded, thumbs in my pockets. "Table for two, eight o'clock." I'd begun visiting Molly in the morgue about two years prior. Maybe I should have started sooner. But that first year after The Incident…. Well, let's just say that it was less than easy. If it hadn't been for the regular checking-in of Mrs Hudson, Greg, and Mycroft, I can honestly say that I don't think that have made it. But on a whim, I'd decided to try and pull myself together. Visit the place I so desperately had tried to avoid. And in the long run, I was glad that I did. Molly had provided some comfort, and it seemed that the more I adjusted, the more comfortable she became. This would be out third… well, was it a date, really? Neither of us had called it that outright. But that was what they were, in the end. I was going on dates with Molly Hooper. The very woman who had forgotten my name when introducing me to the man who would later help in tearing my life apart.
She smiled a bit before her own phone alerted her of a text. She seemed in a hurry to look at it, as much as she tried to hide the fact. I didn't ask questions.
After typing out a response, Molly finally met my gaze, her own then glancing at my upper lip. "He'd hate the moustache, you know." Her tone shifted from teasing to regretful in an instant. "I- I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't- I shouldn't have-"
"Molly." I kept my voice both stern and gentle. "It's okay." I had my back to the body on the table as I offered a small smile. Perhaps a touch more grief-stricken than I'd intended. "I'm okay." I thought for a moment before deepening my voice, trying to lighten the mood. " 'Really John, you look ridiculous..What were you thinking growing that? You're such an idiot.' "
She couldn't help but laugh at the impression. "You sound just like him." Not the name. Never the name.
I shrugged, chuckling slightly. "Well, I wouldn't say just like him."
"John…."
Tone no longer amused. More afraid. "Hey. I told you. It's all fine."
"Not, John, that's…."
"You didn't do anything wrong. It's been three years, Molly, I-"
"John!" I'd never heard her shout before, never saw such a look of terror on her face. She was looking not at, but behind me over my shoulder. And as I turned, every damn bit of understanding I had about the world vanished.
I didn't remember saying anything until I heard myself all but screaming something along the lines of "What the fuck?!" Soldier instincts kicking in instantly, I stood in front of Molly, using my body as a sort of barricade between her and the man standing from the table.
For a second or two, my mind was racing. After all, there had been a time when my life revolved around logical thinking and using it to figure out what was going on. At first, I assumed that he'd been mistakenly pronounced dead, only to be awakening now with no idea where he was. But he'd been drained of blood, cut open for the autopsy. He should have been dead. Not staggering toward us, groaning like something out of a cliche horror film.
The last thing I expected was for it- Him? No, definitely it- to lunge at us. Faster than one would imagine. It caught my jacket, but I was able to shrug it off. While it was distracted by the fabric in its hand, I managed to kick it in the gut, sending it backwards again. Without hesitation, I reached into the waistband of my jeans, suddenly glad that I hadn't listened to Mrs Hudson's talk about how "Silly" it was to bring it with me wherever I went. I shot it in the chest. It should have been an instant death, the bullet went straight through its heart. Cursing again, I aimed this time for the head. That ended it, caused it to fall to the floor. I kept the gun pointed at it, anyway.
Molly was trembling, to the point where she had to use the wall to help her remain standing. "W- what the hell was that?" Her voice soft, yet intense.
I didn't get a chance to tell her that I didn't have an answer. But as I felt a strong grip on my arm, it all clicked. The dead were rising. And we were in a morgue.
I broke the bone of the arm holding on to my sleeve. Only then did I process the screams coming from behind me.
They had her- five of them- in firm grasps. Tight, rendering her struggling useless. "Molly!" Again, I hadn't noticed I'd screamed until her name passed my lips. I readied the gun again.
One shot. Hit one dead centre in the forehead. It fell. I pulled the trigger again. Nothing. No. No, no, no, not now. I couldn't run out right now. I was frozen in place, unable to help as I watched them tear at her flesh. One got a handful of hair, and I was fairly certain that a piece of her scalp came with it.
I was certain that I wouldn't survive a moment longer.
"Get out!" I heard her screaming over the sound of my heart pounding in my chest. She got a bite taken out of her arm. "John, get out! Now! Just go! I-"
She didn't get to finish. The next thing I saw was Molly Hooper's ribcage being exposed, her intestines being ripped out of her body. And finally, her head being severed.
I took advantage of their focus on eating her remains. Not one of them noticed me bolting out of there and onto the streets.
Another note! Each chapter has a song that fits in with it, which I will announce at the end. This one is Sound of Madness by Shinedown~
