chapter 1 -
Shadows settle on the place that you left, our minds are troubled by the emptiness.
A/N: Hey everyone, Pond here. This is my first BBC Sherlock story (YAY!) and will probably be around 11 or 12 chapters long. It's a Sherlolly story because OTP!
Disclaimer: If you even think that I own Sherlock or the characters then you are both hilarious and adorable.
It was December 3rd and Molly had been given a precious day off. Except it wasn't precious at all, in fact, it had been forced on her. The hospital had finally noticed that she had been doing overtime and countless other extra hours without a single day off for five months. Five months, two days, 11 hours and 22 minutes, that was exactly how long it had been since she'd last heard from Sherlock. Usually she would've heard from him every few months. This was his longest silence yet but working kept Molly occupied; she didn't have to sit around wondering whether he was dead or alive, whether she would ever see him again, whether-
"No!" She told herself firmly. She couldn't think like that. Sherlock didn't die.
After a few hours of aimlessly pacing her flat, alone with her thoughts, she had decided to go and visit the one person who could truly understand and relate to how she felt. John. Once Sherlock had left the country, about two weeks after his 'death', Molly and John had joined forces. It was little things at first, he would visit her at work to prove to Ella that he was still spending time with friends and then, as the well-wishers came on and 221b Baker Street began to fill with baked goods and sobbing people, they would share the occasional eye roll or synchronised sigh.
Molly would always withdraw for a few days after having heard from Sherlock but really, they supported each other; they shared the grief and they remembered. The good times, the bad times, the times when Sherlock was a prat (99% of the time) and the times he had made them laugh or smile or cry. John and Molly did something that no one else did. They talked about Sherlock as if he were still alive, ignoring the violin in the corner gathering dust and the empty room in the flat and instead focusing on things that said he was still there, the half-finished case notes still on the kitchen counter and the bullet holes in the wall that didn't quite resemble anything but had the potential to. It was things like this that gave Molly hope, and hope was exactly what she needed.
She took the underground to Baker Street and knocked on the door, which was almost immediately opened by Mrs Hudson.
"Oh, it's you dear. Come in, come in, he'll be so glad to see you. He's been a bit glum lately" she said as she led Molly up the stairs.
Molly repressed the urge to sigh; it had been less than a year since John Watson's best friend had jumped off a building before his eyes and yet he wasn't allowed to be glum. 11 months was ages ago, they probably all thought. Around June the well-wishers cleared out and everyone went to work forgetting. Around that time Molly and Mycroft had been putting Sherlock on a plane to France and John had been where he always was these days, in the dark.
"Molly!" John exclaimed tiredly, picking up his cane. His limp, no matter how psychosomatic it was, had been dreadful since the fall, or more accurately, the jump.
He embraced her gently before stepping back and leaning on the doorframe, as Mrs Hudson ambled off to make tea. The tears were out before Molly could stop them and John's arms were around her again, he was gentle and comforting, kind of like how she'd always imagined an older brother might be. Several minutes had passed before Molly removed her face from John's latest hideous jumper and attempted to control her breathing; her face red and blotchy and her watery eyes clear as day and as swollen as the greedy night sky that gobbled up the stars.
John took her hand and gently led her to the living room where they both sat down.
"They made me take the day off," she explained apologetically, her voice shaking and watery.
"I'm glad," John replied. "You've barely even let yourself breathe lately."
Suddenly John froze and looked around the room. Sherlock was everywhere but John's subconscious didn't seem to believe that being everywhere could ever be enough for Sherlock. John jumped about a foot in the air when Molly laid a hand on his arm.
"It's just the wind," she said aloud before whispering to herself, "the wind and the sound of you."
She blinked and regained her composure before attempting to make small talk. "How's the new job?" she asked.
"Brilliant," came the reply and for the first time in a long time John's eyes lit up and his face contained some signs of life. "I met a lovely girl and I'm taking her out for dinner tomorrow night. Her name is Mary. Mary Morstan."
A contented look graced John's face as he said her name. He was smitten. Molly knew John. He fell hard and fast for a girl, there wasn't really another way for him.
"That's great John," Molly said brightly.
"How about you Molls, anything interesting?"
Molly laughed lightly.
"Does my cat count?"
"You miss him."
John was by no means referring to Molly's cat and it wasn't a question that he asked, it was a statement. John was making observations, deducing if you will and Molly couldn't help but think of her favourite deducer and the pained, vulnerable look he'd worn when he'd said, "I'm not okay."
John hadn't moved but as she thought of Sherlock the room began to feel empty and colourless, like a great black void of despair ready to swallow her up and drown her in gallons of her own misery. John's hand reached out to rest on Molly's arm, her life raft and her tether to reality.
She stood abruptly. "Look, it's been lovely catching up with you John and I'm sorry I can't stay longer but...yeah. Have fun on your date."
"I will Molls," he replied. "Take care of yourself."
Molly nodded, already halfway through door.
"Bye John." she called, as she slipped into the corridor outside. She rushed down the stairs and to her car, trying to control her breathing.
She could feel a panic attack coming on.
Hi everyone, thanks so much for taking the time to read my story, Breathe. I would like to send out a huge thanks to my amazing beta, Hoodoo and my brilliant Brit-Picker, DetectiveSilence. Thank-you both so much, this couldn't have happened without you and you're both just amazing so thanks again and virtual cookies to everyone reading this. Also, please take the time to review as it means quite a lot to me, thanks, see you all in chapter 2.