"Molly, it's John. You at home?"

"Hi John, Yes, I'm at home. All OK? You sound a little worried"

"It's Sherlock..."

"Oh God. What?"

"Well, the good news is we've tracked him down."

"And"

"The bad news is he's in a bad way"

"What do you mean 'a bad way', John?"

"Well, he's been working for the past 2 days and he's over done it. They've just rushed him into emergency surgery. Internal bleeding they think. His pulse is all over the place, and they've had to restart his heart twice on the way in the Ambulance. He's critical, Molly. They think he'll pull through but at the moment it's touch and go"

"Oh shit"

"I'm coming to get you, Molly. Stay where you are."

Molly's mobile phone hung up and she stood, staring at the screen. She couldn't quite comprehend what John had just told her. Sherlock critical - AGAIN. No, please God, no. Not again. How could he be so stupid. Why leave hospital far too early, only to make everything worse? This was the man who had lived through two years of being dead and now, twice in one week he's critically ill. Really ill. Near to dying kind of ill.

She closed her eyes in a silent prayer. Molly wasn't usually religious but just this once she raised her eyes and muttered "please let him be OK. Please"

Must be the case he's working on, she mused. She knew of old what Sherlock was like. Everything else, including personal welfare went out of the window when he was engrossed in a case. Only this time, it sounds like he'd taken his lack of self care to the extreme.

She ran into the bedroom, trying to get her brain to think of all the things she might need. But in the end all she could think of was her phone charger and a packet of biscuits. "Oh God" she said to herself over and over again.

Before she knew it, the door bell rang and there stood John. It wasn't the usual John. He looked stressed. Worried. Almost frightened. He didn't even greet her but just turned around to head to the car to drive back to the hospital. Molly pulled her front food shut, and climbed into the passenger seat beside John. She realised she'd never sat in the front of John's car before.

"Where's Mary, John?" Molly casually enquired. The Watsons had been at each other's side through Sherlock's illness and it seemed strange that Mary wasn't with John.

John didn't answer for a while. When he did, it was simply to say "Lets not worry about that for now. It's Sherlock that needs us most at the moment."

John's driving was, at best, erratic. Almost like there was something else on his mind. Molly came to the conclusion it must be Sherlock. After all, John and Sherlock were like one. A bit like John and Mary. Without each the other was not whole. And therefore it seemed totally logical that John would be worried out of his wits about Sherlock.

The journey from Molly's flat to the hospital was done in no time, as it was late and rush hour was long over and the two of them walked into the hospital in silence. When they arrived at reception, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson were waiting there.

"Oh Shit" said Molly again. Everyone was there. Everyone knew how serious Sherlock's situation was, and the fact they were all there didn't bode well. Well, everyone except Mary. Molly assumed Mary was with Sherlock.

Silently they all headed for the lift up to see him. All lost in their thoughts. All brought together by one man. What was that man to them? Could they truly call him a friend? Would he call them a friend? Or was it something more than that. Respect? Trust? Love?

When they reached Sherlock he was in intensive care following surgery to stop the internal bleeding. There were monitors and wires everywhere. Molly panicked. Her world was not like this. Her world was full of silence. Mortuary's didn't have heart monitors, oxygen supplies, drips and wires. But she snapped herself back into reality.

"C'mon Molly" she thought "Be thankful he's not in your world of work. If he were you'd have lost him forever."

She walked over to him and looked at him. He looked exactly like Sherlock except for the ventilator, all the tubes and a massive bandage around his middle. No other visible signs of damage. John walked to the other side of Sherlock's bed while Mrs Hudson and Lestrade stood at the bottom of the bed. Still all lost in their own worlds of thought, looking at Sherlock. This man, the genius they knew, a mere shell of himself at present. Fighting internal damage that none of them could see. And they were all silently praying that he pulled through.

It felt like an age of just looking at him when Molly felt the urge to walk up to him and gently kiss him on the forehead. As she did so, the pulse monitor picked up a little.

"He knows you're here, Molly" said John.

Molly smiled back at him "I hope so" she said.

John Fetched a chair, walked it around to Molly's side of the bed and put it down.

"Sit down, Molly" he said. " think it'll do Sherlock the power of good for you to be with him for a while."

Molly didn't need to be asked twice. She sat down next to Sherlock and gently reached over and held his right hand. Again the pulse monitor picked up a little. She quietly began to talk to him. About nothing in particular. Anything that came into her head really. About her cat, Toby. About her day at work and how she could have really done with his help on something she couldn't get to the bottom of. How sore the needle in his neck looked. Anything at all she thought he might find vaguely interesting.

During all of this John nodded silently to Mrs Hudson and Lestrade, and the three of them quietly slipped away, leaving Molly and Sherlock together.

"He's in safe hands" said Mrs Hudson

"Do you think they'll ever..., you know" said Lestrade

"You know, I really don't know" said John. "If you'd asked me a few days back, I'd have said no, but after what we just saw... Well, you know, Sherlock always says that you can read someone's attraction to another person by the increase in their pulse. I think he might have just been caught out by his own deduction!"