Four months after the Fall: February
It was raining, again. Molly pushed tendrils of damp hair behind her ear, exiting the gym. It had been quite a workout. Greg Lestrade was outside waiting, had just pulled his lighter and cigarette out of the pocket of his trench coat. He was teaching her some self-defense moves.
"Hey, Molls," he said. "Fancy a beer? It's Friday night."
She checked her watch. "I'm sorry Greg, it's already late. I've got some things to do at home yet tonight. Thanks, though, for the lesson. It was really great."
Greg tried to hide his disappointment, but nonetheless pleasantly said, "Next time, then." He took a drag, blew it out. "You're getting good, you know. Pretty soon I won't have much more to teach you."
"Thanks, Greg. See you next week." She gave him a little wave and they went their separate ways. She knew he was lonely, with the divorce and all, but tonight she just wasn't up for it. It had been a long day at work.
Molly pulled her coat more tightly around her. The wind was starting up and it was driving the drizzle into her face and cold water was somehow leaking down the back of her neck.
Ding. A text had come in. She fished her phone out of her pocket, wiped some droplets of rain off the glowing screen.
You were right, you know.
Molly frowned. An anonymous number. Who was this from? Right about what?
Ding.
I'm not ok.
Molly froze in her tracks. Someone had said this to her once, these very words, almost exactly four months ago. But he had left London right after the fall, disappeared to who knew where and she had not heard from him since. Her hand trembled a little as she wondered if it could really be him….Only one way to find out.
She texted back.
What do you need?
Ding.
You