This is a story I came up with while I was doing the dishes and listening to 'Grimes – Oblivion'. Please don't ask how because I really do not have a clue. Some characters – Especially Sherlock are very out of character, as it's completely AU.

Can be Dark in places – Trigger warnings: CONTAINS SUBJECTS SUCH AS ABUSE/ ATTEMPTED SUICIDE (MANT TIMES)/ FLASHBACKS / D.I.D ETC

Why can't I write happy fics?!

It will be happy in some places I swear...

PAIRING: Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper – 'cause I love 'em...

PLAYLIST:

My Immortal –

VNV Nation- Illusion

Grimes – Oblivion

Three wishes – The pierces

TO THE STORY... AWAAYYYYYYYY ~

Molly was doing the dishes when she got the call. She suspected that it would have been John asking her if she wanted to go for drinks at the pub with our friends, or maybe Lestrade wanting her to do an autopsy on someone for the police or even Mrs Hudson asking her to come over for tea so she can talk about how ridiculous her hip was being.

But they would have phoned her phone.

This call was on her landline.

Being a pathologist was kind of like, how would she put it?

Ah. A second option, if you will. She still did autopsies from time to time when no one else could fill in at The New Hope Hospital but most of the time, she did her actual job. She was a psychotherapist.

(Psychotherapist - Noun

The treatment of mental disorder by psychological rather than medical means.

)

Well, that's what she trained for... but not really what she does exactly. Instead of becoming just a doctor figure to the patients that she went to see, she preferred to talk to them instead, ask how their day was going and brought them things such as chocolate (if she was allowed) and books. She became a friend to them. Someone they could trust. The other Doctors, and some of the staff in the places she worked it didn't approve. 'That's not what you're here for' they would say, in which she would reply – 'Making them fear you with your silly mind games is not going to get you any were with these patients.' And with that, she would go back to her patient – she hated that word – with a smile on her face to make them feel comfortable and secure.

Safe.

Some people, especially Lestrade and John, had rudely suggested that that job was not for her. 'You're to... fragile?' as John would say. But, like every time they would make a comment about her work, she simply said, 'I enjoy it. It's fulfilling.'

Which it is. She had worked with quite a few patients at many different mental institutions around London, and she even helped some of them get right back on track. It made her happy, making them happy- Well... happier in some cases.

She had worked with people who had very bad cases of Paranoia and MPD, talking to themselves and claiming to hear voices of long dead relatives and just voices in general. It was hard working with some of them, one had been whispering to himself about how he could kill her when she wasn't looking. He had to be restrained for the rest of her visits, but she never gave up on him, until he was sent to a Mental Hospital nearer his hometown of Leeds. It was a lot different, the one in Leeds. It was cleaner, the staff was friendlier to the patients and it just gave the feeling of a retirement home filled with sweet little old people who asked how your day was. She of course, still visited him, once a week and he apologized for all the times he had lashed out at her with a toothbrush or razor. He, of course, still heard voices in his head, and sometimes got extremely paranoid, but it was a lot better than it was. He was 83, died in 2005. His name was Jeffery, but he called his 'other self' as the doctors would call him, 'Jeff'.

One of her most sad, and of course made her want to quit her job in several cases, was a little girl called Catalina. She was 11 years old, had D.I.D and she was very suicidal. (D.I.D- Dissociative identity disorder (or multiple personality disorder) is an extremely complex disorder that results in two or more split identities.)Molly had to stop her from doing it once or twice. She was bullied in school for talking to herself, back in Russia, when she had a very mild case of schizophrenia and wasn't actually diagnosed with it until she was taken to the doctors, and it gradually got very, very much worse. Catalina had gone far into her mind and decided to stay there for a year, before she started to talk to herself and would answer back in a not very friendly tone. She had to get moved to a very well guarded mental institution - In London. That's where Molly comes in. Molly had been very upset that she was only 12 years old; she looked so young and innocent. That was when she wasn't her other self – We called her Cat. She did the scariest of things when she was Cat. She wrote things on the walls with her own blood, and it scared molly half to death. The worst thing to deal with was when she woke up from her other self, and would cry and scream because she didn't know what to do anymore. Molly had become a sisterly figure to Catalina over the years she had worked with her, and when she would break down, Molly would hold her and tell that one day, she would get out of this place – Molly planned to take her in when she was. It was frowned upon, of course, but she had no family left and Catalina trusted no one but her. That all ended when Molly came in to her room – in 2007, she had been working with her for 3 years – along side with Jeffery- and found that she had hung herself with her bed sheets from the land shade. Molly screamed for help, and got her down, but soon realized that she was long gone. She had left a note, addressed to Molly, who the Doctors demanded to see and tried to rip the note from her hands, but Molly was having none of it. Her funeral was a week later, and Molly was asked to do the autopsy. She was only 15.

The note read –

Dear Molly,

I'm sorry for everything I have done, I know that I cannot blame all the wrong that I have done on Cat, because in reality, it was all me wasn't it? She keeps telling me it's my fault. And I believe her.

I wanted to thank you for everything that you have done, and to know that you're help to me hasn't been for nothing. I was looking forward t living with you when I got better, but I figured that i would only be a burden to you. And I couldn't do that to you. Thank you for being the big sister I needed.

Love,

Catalina.

On the back of the piece of bed sheet that Catalina had used as paper or her note, she saw red stain through the where she has written her note.

It was blood. Her blood.

It read –

Failure

Cat.

She didn't go back to that job for 4 years after Catalina.

Present Day –

Molly knew what the phone call was about. She had a new patient to work with. After Catalina, she spent a year on leave, but went back to it, as being a pathologist was making her bored out of her mind. She missed helping people, as weird as it sounded.

But this number that showed up on her phone, she didn't recognize. It wasn't Michael, who told her where to go for her next patient to work with and a bit of background about them so she knew what she was going into. She picked up the phone and looked at the screen. Blocked number.

She contemplated about putting it down, but decided against it, and clicked the answer button before placing the phone to her ear. "Hello?" she spoke slowly.

"Hello, Miss Hooper, I presume?" a posh, but very calm voice spoke into the phone. Who the heck was he?

"Yes, that's me... um; could I help you with something?"

"Yes, in fact there is something of great importance that you would be of great help. I have heard from past patients of your care that you are one of the best Psychotherapists in London, and I would like to ask for your help with my... little Brother. My name is Mycroft Holmes, before you put down the phone."

"I wasn't... Wait... Do you mean Mycroft Holmes, as in the eldest of the Holmes children? You got passed the Manor from your parents. Your brother... His name was Sherlock I think, right?" she remembers them from the papers, and how his brother, Sherlock, disappeared when he was just 18 years old.

"Ah...I see that you read the papers then, Miss Hooper. Yes, I am hoping to gain your help for my little brother, Sherlock. While the papers led people to believe that he went to go live with our Gran in Philadelphia, he was, in fact, taken into a mental hospital after some things... happened at home. I'll let him explain if he chooses to trust you enough." He explained, and Molly found that he sounded guilty about it.

She pondered for a moment about taking up the offer. She hadn't done any serious work to help someone in a while. Mycroft's next few words bring her out of her thoughts.

"I will pay you handsomely for your help, Miss Hooper, for Sherlock needs it dearly, even if he doesn't think so."

"I don't need any more money than necessary, Mr Holmes. I will help your brother. Can I have a bit of a background about him so I know what I'm going to be doing?" She was eager to start again. Some people would find that worrying, but she was just glad to be back.

"Thank you Miss Hooper, Your help will not go unnoticed. I will send a car tomorrow at 9am exactly to take you to where he is being kept. I have sent you a file, Miss Hooper, which should be through your letter box around about... now," He cut off as she heard the sound of something being posted through her letterbox. " Be warned Miss Hooper, some of the images within this file may... shock you. I will see you tomorrow. Good night." And with that, the phone went dead.

Molly had always wondered what had happened to the youngest Holmes brother. What really happened to him. She thought this as she walked towards the door and picked up the heavy file. It was marked 'classified'.

Time to find out, I guess.

She went to go and sit at the kitchen table, her cat Toby, at her feet as she sat down and placed the file on the desk. She opened the cover slowly and stared at the first page, which in-fact was information about him.

Surname: Holmes

First name(s): Sherlock

Sex: Male

Age Admitted: 17 years of age, DOB: 27TH March 1982

He only went 'to his Grans' when he was 25 She remembered.

Comment(s): Has been In and Out of St Bartholomew's Mental Institution for 13 years, but is now in St Bartholomew's intensive care unit (ICU) as a result of NO PROGRESS MADE and His Brothers demands.

Catalina was in Intensive Care, Molly thought, before reading on.

Reasons For Admittance: Suicide attempts (Ages 16,18,21 and 28), Deep Depression, Flashbacks – causing him to turn violent to anyone around him, Rapid loss of weight, Paranoia and attempted murder on his Father, Siger Holmes.

- Admitted by Mycroft Holmes, Relation: Brother.

General Information:

Complexion: PALE

Eye Colour: BLUE, GREY

Hair colour: BROWN, DARK

Height: 6ft

Weight (Since last weigh in) 98 pounds- HAS LOST 12 POUNDS SINCE PREVIOUS WEIGH IN.

My God Molly thought as she looked over at his profile again. She had never worked with someone this... serious before. She could see why Mycroft wanted Help, and she would gladly help him.

She looked at the comments from past carers/doctors etc:

Comments: Sherlock has made NO NEW PROGRESS with past carers.

They all quit within the first fortnight while caring for Mr Holmes.

Molly gulped. Well that was reassuring. She had never worked at St Bartholomew's before, and gladly, as she had heard some having horrific stories about how the patients are treated there.

Apparently it was the place for the lost cases.

She turned the page, and was presented with a stack of photographs.

Ah. The admittance photographs. One for every time that Sherlock had been admitted into St Barts, and there was a lot. Too many for one person Molly thought.

Molly prepared herself, as she had never actually seen the youngest Holmes brother before, and according to Mycroft, she may be shocked at what she would see. She lifted the red folder cover, and gasped.

She was not expecting that.

The caption read: HOLMES, SHERLOCK AGE 17.

He was wearing a light blue jumpsuit, which had his name on the left breast pocket. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing his pale forearms. He was tall, so very tall and he had lovely cheekbones. His nose was angular and straight and he had full, pink lips. He had curly dark brown hair, what seemed to make his skin look even paler. And his eye pierced through you, even through the photograph. He just looked like an ordinary teenager.

But she was missing the most vital part of the photograph.

He forearms were covered in scars, some faded and some looked fairly new, and had scabbed over and were raw and pink. His face was full of bruises and his eyes. He looked scared, alone.

There were 9 photos in total, each one telling a slightly different story than the other. In each one, he got older, thinner; his cheekbones got more prominent and face longer. The scars on his arms faded, but only to be covered by more and more as the photos got newer.

His arms looked like battlefields.

In some photos he had bandages around his wrists, and each captioned with why he had been admitted. For example: June 13th 2001 – Suicide attempt – Paranoia – Flashbacks – Depression.

There were photos were he was shirtless against the white background, and it showed he had a long scar that started at his left hip, and ended near his belly button.

She got up to the most recent photograph, and a tear slipped from her eye.

The caption read: September 24th 2011- Attempted Suicide – Weight loss – Depression – Self inflicted harm. Attempted murder.

He was aged 29. His cheekbones were prominent and looked as though they were going to cut through his skin. He looked so thin and His arms were full of more faded scars and it looked like he had carved a word or letters into his left arm. It read I.O.U.

She would ask Mycroft tomorrow is He knew the meaning.

He was still wearing a light blue jumpsuit and his hair was now black, than brown, but was still curly. He had a sullen look on his face and his eyes...

He looked Broken.

Molly closed the folder and left it on her Kitchen table, before going into her bathroom and vomited into the toilet.

Well... That's the first part anyway. Ill try and upload the second part tomorrow before i go on Holiday for a week :)

Tell me what you think and thanks for reading :)

p.s: I'm not depressed as some people have asked, i've just got a really screwed up mind... o.o