"Knock, knock!"
Molly Hooper looked up at the sound of Mary Morstan's voice.
"Hello!" As she saw Mary carrying a large plastic bin, she asked, "Oh, do you need help with that?"
"No worries." Mary placed the bin on the part of the counter that was designated for used materials. "I'm pretty sure my students kept these as clean as possible, but the box needs to be sterilized."
"Of course." Then Molly asked, shyly, "Did the samples help in your class?"
The American doctor walked over to Molly and put an arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently. "Molly, I cannot thank you enough. Having brain slices and MRI scans from the same person to show my students? It was awesome. Worked exactly as I'd hoped!"
Molly smiled at the generous praise. She enjoyed working with Mary, who always treated her as an equal, and now that she was with John Watson, as a friend.
"Just let me know if there are any other sample preps you'd like. I'd be happy to help."
"Thank you." Mary turned to leave the laboratory, and then stopped. "I should warn you…"
"What?"
Mary sighed, her shoulders drooping, and turned back to face Molly. "You might be getting a visit from John about Sherlock. "
Molly tensed, trying not to let the guilt show on her face. "What for?"
"I think I'll let him explain. But don't feel obligated to break your professional code of ethics for any favors he might ask of you."
Oh, Mary, if you only knew. "I can't imagine John asking anything of me that I wouldn't do for him." If I could.
"Just be kind to him." Mary's eyes betrayed how upset she was. "He's going through another rough spot right now."
"Of course."
After Mary left the room, Molly sat on a stool and rested her forehead against the cool lab bench. The last few years were taking a toll on her. She never thought she'd have to keep Sherlock's secret for this long. She often wondered if it was even the right thing to do. She felt so alone.
The next day, Molly was finishing her lunch in the St. Bart's cafeteria when Mary and John approached her. After John sat at the table across from Molly, Mary said, "I'm going to get some coffee for me and John. Need a refill, Molly, or anything else?"
"No, thank you." As Mary walked away, Molly faced the silent man in front of her. "Hello, John."
John kept flexing his left hand on the tabletop. Very tightly, he replied, "Hello, Molly."
Molly's heart broke a little. It had been a long time since she had seen John in this state. John remained quiet until Mary rejoined them. Molly wondered if that was by design, if he needed Mary for support.
Mary clasped John's flexing hand, and he cleared his throat. Then he looked at Molly and said, "You know I've been working to completely exonerate him."
"Yes."
"I've been running into some unexpected obstacles. It would really help me if I could see the coroner's report."
Although Molly knew this was coming, it still hurt. "I can't."
Frustration caused John's voice to get a little louder. "Blood loss record. The toxicology report, at least. Please."
"I can't."
John pulled his hand away from Mary and pointed it at Molly. "You would break every rule in the book for him, but not one, just one, for me?"
"John, please," interrupted Mary.
John kept his focus on Molly. "Cause of death. Suicide. That is public record. Everything else has been kept from me."
"I can't help you."
"But I know you can access it. Even if you didn't do the tests yourself, I know you can get the results."
Molly raised a hand, as if to ward him off. "Family only, John, you know that."
John flinched as if she'd hit him. "And what was I to him, Molly? What was I?"
Everything. "The full report can only be released to family members, I'm sorry." She knew that she was begging.
"John, think of who his family is." Mary was stroking John's forearm.
John sat back in his chair, his posture showing defeat. Molly wanted to scream.
Mary noted Molly's distress and said, "We're not upset with you, sweetie. It's just that we're getting tired of being jerked around by Mycroft."
"Mycroft?"
Mary shook her head. "In a conversation with me, he basically implied that Sherlock was alive."
Molly was startled. "What did he say?" Her voice quavered a bit.
"He attempted to coerce me to go back to the States and end my relationship with John, because it hurts his brother."
At Mary's summary of her interaction with Mycroft, John closed his eyes. If Molly had thought her heart was breaking before, it was certainly broken now. "It would hurt him, it would," Molly said, softly.
John leaned forward, covering his face with his hands. As she caressed John's back, Mary's eyes met Molly's, and she nodded for Molly to continue.
But Molly was confused. If Mycroft was giving hints to John, who was she to hide the truth? Mycroft hadn't told her that plans had changed, however, and she had not heard from Sherlock himself for months. She looked at the man in front of her, the gentle man who so willingly would get blood on his hands for Sherlock, still so haunted by the sight of Sherlock's own blood. And she helped it happen. She had to give him something.
"What did Sherlock call the place he created in his head to store stuff?"
John raised his head, surprised by the question. "His mind palace." A hint of a smile appeared in his eyes, and Mary grinned encouragingly at Molly.
"That's right, his mind palace." Molly directed her words at Mary, not knowing if she'd heard these tales. "When Sherlock needed to really concentrate, he would retreat into his mind palace. He could do so for hours, even here in the lab. Sometimes he didn't completely cut himself off from the rest of the world, but he would remain unaware of anything that happened around him that wasn't directly related to the target of his concentration."
Molly paused. She needed to get the next words right. "Sherlock could ignore anyone in that state. When he came out of it, he was often surprised to find me in the lab, that anyone was around at all." Molly looked at John with a very soft expression on her face. "Then he met John, and when Sherlock would emerge from his mind palace, John's name was practically the first word out of his mouth. 'Thank you, John.' 'I was just talking to John.' At first I thought he was being his usual rude self, not even caring if John was around or not."
She tentatively reached out to touch John's hands. "But then I realized that he always thought you were with him. That after years of being alone, in reality and in his mind, he had someone he always wanted at his side. Sherlock was walking through his mind palace with you, John."
Mary placed an arm around John's shoulders, and John held onto Molly's hands. Then Molly saw that John had received her gift: happy tears.
"Thank you, Molly." John's voice was full of emotion, but strong. Mary's eyes were shining with gratitude.
Molly wanted to curl in a ball and cry.
John took a deep centering breath and released Molly's hands. After a quick wipe of his eyes, he apologized. "I am so sorry, Molly. I should never have asked you for anything."
"Oh, John, you don't need to apologize to me." Please, don't, please don't ever.
"I should never have put you in this position."
Molly replied, "I actually expected you to ask me for the report long ago." Deflecting the attention from her. "Why didn't you?"
John let out a self-deprecating laugh. "At first, I really thought he was alive. That he'd be coming home."
Oh god, oh god…
"But then I had to face his death and narrow my focus just on his exoneration, instead of holding onto false hope." Bitterness crossed his face. "Never thought that Mycroft would be the biggest obstacle in clearing his brother. And now he's brought Mary into it."
Mary placed a soft kiss on John's shoulder.
Then Molly understood why Mycroft was interfering. Sherlock must be close to coming home. But for Sherlock, home meant John, not just Baker Street.
Molly stood up. "I need to get back to the lab."
John and Mary stood with her. Mary said, "We'll walk ya back."
The three walked in silence through the sterile, brightly lit corridors of St. Bart's, each lost in their own thoughts. As they reached the pathology lab, John reached out and gave Molly a hug. Molly squeezed back as hard as she could.
Please forgive him, please forgive him, please forgive him.
"Please forgive me."
John released Molly and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. After kissing Mary similarly, John walked away. Molly heaved a sigh of relief, then noticed that Mary was looking at her intently.
"Forgive?" Mary's voice was apprehensive.
"Please."
Mary looked up at the ceiling and said, "I'll do what I can."
And Molly no longer felt alone.