Hey guys, here's my next fic as promised. This is just the first chapter, but I'll be updating within the week. I don't own Sherlock, BBC, or any of the characters, etc. Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat, are the real creators of the show. All this work is for entertainment purposes only, not for profit or gain. Enjoy!
The whole atmosphere of the morgue, the cold steel tables, the dead bodies. Reminded Molly that, it had been two years since she had seen Sherlock, and that was only to help him disappear. But when was he coming back? She looked up and glanced at the clock, seven. It was time to go home, to an empty, lonely flat.
Sherlock had been the light of her life, and now he was gone. Molly glanced at the clock again, seven-fifteen. Molly quickly finished her last bit of paperwork. It probably won't take too long, she thought to herself.
But as time went on, Molly began to daydream about the passionate kiss she had with Sherlock... The way his hands caressed her neck, the feeling of his warm body against hers, and oh, his lips, the way they moved together with hers, in a perfect unison of passion-
"No, I'm sorry Mrs. Turner, we don't do cremations, but there's a lovely cemetery just an hour's drive from here... "
"Oh, thank you dear, goodbye," Came the gravelly answer.
The sound of Toms voice, brought Molly back to reality.
"I'm going home Tom, do you think you can finish up without me?"
"No problem, go and get some rest, you'll be needing it for the inspection tomorrow," Tom replied.
Molly gathered her belongings from her locker, and left the morgue. The cold night air, filled her lungs with fresh oxygen, inviting Molly to breath deeply. As she walked down the street to her flat, Molly's mind began to wander. Did Sherlock really care for her?, did he really need her? Sherlock's last words, kept echoing over and over in her mind, his warm deep voice, lulling her while she listened.
You're wrong you know, you do count. You've always counted, and I've always trusted you-
Molly's thoughts were cut short as she arrived at her flat, the warm air enveloped her as she opened the door and walked in.
As she turned on the lights, Toby rubbed up against her leg purring. Molly stroked her hand through the animals fur. "Are you hungry boy?"
"Meow," came the response.
"I'll get you some food." Molly opened the fridge to find some cat food, and placed it into the cats dish.
As she was preparing the cats meal, Molly's mind began to drift.
What do you need?
You-
"Stop it Molly," she chided herself, as she raked her fingers, through her long auburn hair. "He said he wouldn't be back for a long time." A few tears, came streaming down her cheek. The thought of never seeing him again, never hearing his low, deep voice calling out her name.
How she longed to look inside his comforting blue eyes again, to feel the strength of his presence beside her.
Feeling emotionally, and physically drained, she slowly made her way to the sofa, and collapsed onto it. Toby followed close behind, after he was done eating, and jumped into her lap, curling up into a ball.
Molly soon felt her eyelids getting heavier, and heavier, and eventually drifted off to sleep.
