After Detective Inspector Lestrade had attempted to tell Molly that Jim from IT was really a criminal mastermind and was just with her to get close to Sherlock—Sergeant Donovan, after Lestrade had tried three times to tell Molly, rolled her eyes and brutally told her that Jim was actually Moriarty, a criminal mastermind, and wasn't interested in her at all—and after the police had flipped her flat inside out, searching for any clues that would led to the capture of James Moriarty, the world's only 'Consulting Criminal', Molly went into a fit of rage, making her already messy flat even messier and scaring her cat, Toby, to dive under her couch.
After Molly had been screaming and tearing her flat apart for ten minutes, she noticed that Toby was cowing under the couch in fear. She breathed in deeply and heavily, staring in Toby's direction, feathers from her pillows floating all around her, tears brimming to rupture. She got down on her knees and tried to coax Toby from his hiding place. "C'mon, c'mon", she gently, stammered out, waving her arm to grab Toby. She did this for a few minutes before she stood up and gently slapped her thighs, "Fine, stay under there", she said harshly. "I don't need you."
After she woke up at ten the next morning (waking up quite a few times during the night with a feeling that somebody was watching her, a red dot was on her, or somebody was in the room), she found that she had a lot of messages on her answerphone, more messages than she ever, ever had. Five were from her parents in Manchester (apparently, Lestrade had called them, she later learned), one was from her brother in the Himalayas (how did he get a phone?), three were from Lestrade, two were from Sarah, two were from her friend, Meena, a call from her other friend, Caroline, a call from her sister-in-law, Becky, and a call from the St. Bart's. Sixteen in total. She got some tea, kicking feathers as she went back and forth from the kitchen. She hadn't seen Toby yet; he was probably still under the coach.
After she drank almost two cups of tea, she decided that she might-as-well listen to her messages. As she slowly inched her finger toward the "play" button, her phone rang. She quickly answered it, "Hello?" she said in a trembling, quiet tone.
"Dr. Hopper, I presume?" a cold, formal male voice asked. "I'm Mycroft Holmes; Sherlock's brother."
"Oh gawd", Molly gasped, her hand over her mouth in shock, "What happened to him?"
"He and Dr. Watson were involved in an explosion with Mr. Moriarty last night."
"Are they fine?" Molly stammered out.
"Yes, yes", Mycroft said in bored tone, "Sherlock and Watson were able to jump in the pool at the last moment, quite anti-climatic I say. Moriarty, on the other hand"...he paused as Molly held in breath in distress..."we're not entirely sure what happened to him." Tears began to form on Molly's eyes as she bit her lip to control herself. "But, we see that he lost a lot of blood and then the trail ends there."
"Well", Molly stuttered out, "th...thanks for telling me, ah, Mr. Holmes", tears poured down her cheeks, "I...I need to go now...thanks again." Molly slammed down her phone before Mycroft could respond. She then glanced towards the blinking sixteen next to her hand. "How bad could it be?" she murmured as she pressed 'play'.
"Hi, Molly, dear", her mother's voice played from the answerphone, "I'm so sorry about what happened, but maybe if you had brought him over to meet us then"...Molly quickly squashed the 'delete' button. The next message was from her brother, Steve, "Molly, mom called, hysterical out of her mind, and, frankly, so am I. Please call her so that mom, dad, Mark, Becky, an"—
"Blah, blah, blah", Molly muttered as she pressed 'delete' again. Two more messages played (from her mother, again, and from Lestrade) before she went to take a shower with the answerphone still playing. She finished her business in the shower in ten minutes, but stayed in the shower for another thirty minutes, barely hearing the messages. As she got out of the shower, she caught the end of the call from the hospital ..."at which we are ordering you to take a mandatory leave for a week"...
"Ah, great", Molly muttered to herself as she flipped her head and wrung her hair out, "that's just great."