Hey guys! Haven't uploaded in AGES! Trying to get back in the groove of writing now I have a ton of time before uni! Hope you like this one...just an idea that I'm hoping to make a good story out of.
"Molly, get Molly...John get Molly" Sherlock drawled as his grip on both Mycroft's arms and his consciousness loosened. John looked in panic toward Mary who looked equally as confused as him, after all hearing Sherlock call the Pathologist's name while in a drug fuelled haze was not something he expected to happen.
Mycroft looked at the husband and wife with impatience as he pulled Sherlock into the sleek black car, the exile was the last thing on his mind now, his baby brother needed him.
"John, do as he says. He's going to need her. Tell her to come to 221B as quick as possible" His words were confirmed by Sherlock who mumbled Molly's name as if it were a prayer. This was what made John pause further, he couldn't understand why Molly was needed, to him Sherlock needed medical attention and calling a woman who was supposedly just a friend seemed to waste time.
"I've got it" Mary, sensing her husband's hesitation, pulled out her phone as they followed Mycroft into the car. It didn't take long to find Molly's number and the phone was soon ringing.
"Hello?" Molly's tired reply came, she must have been on a night shift.
"Molly?! It's Sherlock-"
"Mary, if he needs more thumbs tell him to wait a week or so, I'm running low on stock right now" Molly seemed oblivious to the situation at hand, Mary silently cursed Sherlock for not telling her about his exile.
"No Molly, it's a lot to explain but you have to get to Baker Street...Sherlock, he's relapsed, he needs you"
There was a short silence, all Mary could hear was the pathologists heavy breathing and worried that she may hang up.
The pause ended with three words.
"I'll be there"
Molly nearly dropped the phone as she hung up. What started as a normal boring day slowly became the living manifestation of her ultimate fears, it brought back memories and times that she never wanted to remember. She envied him, he could delete that part of his life, the part where he hurt her in more ways than one. She would always remember it...yet she didn't hate him, like always she forgave him all his sins.
She loved Sherlock, everyone knew she loved him...even he knew it. The problem was that everyone thought they knew Molly Hooper, she was simple to them.
They didn't know the nights she'd spent having to tie him down with her dressing gown cord to stop him from violently shaking, or the words he'd spewed at her when the only liquid she gave him was tea. It was his fault, he didn't want the Rehab after they met, he always said he wanted her. It was those words that made her help the first time, and it was the memory of them that made her help the 7 times after.
No one knew that, not John, not even Sherlock.
She hoped that's why he forgot, she saw Sherlock as he was and if he ever knew the damage he'd caused to her he would never forgive himself. She hoped that in some way, that was his way of loving her back.
It's the hope that kills you in the end though isn't it? She would die helping her Sherlock simply because she hoped he would remember her for it.
It took around 30 minutes to get back to Baker Street. Mycroft had called in for some medical equipment to be set up in the flat and by the time they had shuffled Sherlock into the door Molly was already halfway down the staircase, Mrs Hudson nowhere to be found.
"Mycroft take him upstairs, I've set up an IV in order to drain the system. Also can you get rid of that idiot nurse upstairs, this time I'm going to monitor him." It was the first time since the infamous slap that John and Mary had seen Molly this assertive.
Mycroft however did not look as surprised and replied with a similar no nonsense tone,
"I've already arranged a week or so off for you at the hospital, Dr Stamford knows the situation." Sherlock kept silent throughout the exchange but kept his eyes on Molly. John would be sure to ask him to explain when he was more coherent.
Half the day had gone once they had set up Sherlock's own hospital wing in his bedroom and managed to get him to sleep while the IV flushed the drugs out. John watched as Molly had taken it upon herself to become his own nurse and spent the afternoon sitting in the corner of his room to make sure she would be there when he woke. The slip of paper with the list of drugs clenched in her hand.
"Molly? I...Why did he ask for you?" John's curiosity had surfaced as soon as he saw her looking at Sherlock.
Molly looked up at John in surprise, as if she had forgotten there was anyone else in the flat. There was a long silence as Molly deliberated on what to tell him, she was too tired to come up with a lie and John deserved to know. After what seemed like forever she blinked and quietly replied.
"The first time I met him he was high as a kite..and angry..I was a volunteering at rehab facility and he was the first addict I met, I made the mistake of trying to take away the needle he'd smuggled in...the next thing I knew I was on the floor with a gash to my head and him standing over me"
Well that's the first chapter! I don't know how long this is going to be but I'm hoping to at least get a coherent story out of this one. I hope you guys liked it!
M xx