Chapter Two:
Three weeks earlier:
"Molly, we've got a new one for you." Said one of the nurses.
She looked up to see all three of them looking rather distraught.
Then she turned to see the figure on the gurney. Sherlock. His
body was still, coat spilling over the sides of the cart, a lifeless
hand dangling off one of the sides.
"He jumped. Just now. We check for any sign of saving him, but
it must have been a fatal impact." She looked up to see that her
friend, Mary, was the one speaking. She slowly glanced from Sherlock's
body back up at Molly.
"Oh, Molls, I'm so sorry. I know how much you cared about him."
She sobbed, practically running over to embrace her in a sympathetic
hug. Molly wrapped her arms around Mary slowly, and then squeezed as
tightly as her friend was grasping onto her. She looked over Mary's shoulder
to stare at his stiff body, hoping that he was actually still alive.
Moments later, Mary released her and spoke again.
"Do you want me to get Stamford to do it? The autopsy, I mean. I'm sure
he wouldn't mind." Molly just shook her head a little.
"No, I think I need to do it. I'm sure He would have fussed over having
Stamford following the wrong procedure, or would have wanted him
to break the correct procedures." She let out a sad chuckle.
"Alright, well, I'll leave you to it, then. If you need anything at all,
you have my number." With a final glance, Mary and the other two
nurses left Molly standing alone, next to the supposed corpse of Mr.
Sherlock Holmes.
She had waited for around 15 minutes, which felt like hours.
She had almost drifted off to sleep when she heard a low moan
coming from the table across the room. She jumped up and raced
over to Sherlock's side.
"Oh thank God." She breathed.
His eyes squinted as he adjusted to the bright light overhead
and he looked around spasmodically, until he focused on her
face.
"Molly. It would seem that my fake jump worked according to
plan, yes?" He said in a clipped, albeit, hoarse tone.
She nodded her head and smiled slightly down at him.
"Well, it was a success in the fact that you're still alive. But
your injuries are rather bad." She said, gently pulling an arm from
his coat. He gritted through his teeth as pain shot up and down
the left side of his body.
"A few broken ribs, your shoulder was out of place, I reset it
while you were still out cold." She said, slowly removing the other
arm. He moaned loudly, realizing this must be said shoulder.
"Has anyone come in to ask about my status?" He asked.
"No. Though, I couldn't imagine them letting anyone in the
hospital at this point. Too much press exposure, too much shock
to be sent to the other patients. I think they barred the doors." She
said, as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He looked down at her hands,
they were shaking.
"Would you like some assistance, Molly?" He asked curtly, slowly
gliding his fingers to where hers were and lightly pushed them aside.
She flinched ever so slightly at the contact, and simply nodded her head.
"I need to go get some gauze rolls to wrap your shoulder and ribs." She
said, turning around and briskly walking across the room. When she returned,
he had removed his shirt and was sitting up on the slab, his long legs dangling
over the edge.
"How are we going to get you out of here?" She asked a few minutes into her
wrapping session. She looked up at him, his eyes staring down at her hands,
assessing her movements.
"We'll have to wait until it's rather late, when most of the staff has gone home."
He responded a moment later. "I will need a little rest to regain any strength to
carry myself out of here, as I'm sure you're small frame wouldn't be able to help
much in that scenario." He let out a small grin, which was immediately replaced
by his usual, straight face.
"And where are you going to rest until then? People will definitely notice
if there is a live man pretending to be dead on one of my gurneys. Should they, you
know, break into the hospital." She said.
"Oh just stick me in one of the closets, it'll help me think. The dark, confined space
will make for a proper gateway to my mind palace." He said, as if it was an obvious
choice for sleeping quarters.
She let out a small chuckle, before realizing he was rather serious. She then turned
towards the wall of doors and opened one towards the end.
"Alright then, hop up here." She motioned him towards the rolling out slab in the
wall. As he hopped up, his body jarred with the sudden motion of landing and he
let out a grunt of pain, his hands instinctively grasping Molly's forearm's for support.
"CAREFUL!" She scolded, not wanting him to be hurt, and also not wanting to have
to reset his bum shoulder. "Okay, now, just rest in here for awhile, I'll wake you
up when it's safe to leave." He nodded, lying back onto the cold slab in an almost
vampiric way, as she pushed him into the dark closet and closed the door.
Sherlock closed his eyes, and began to think. Soon, nature took over, and he fell to sleep.
Lalalalalala! chapter two. Let me know what you think.
