The cab ride was a blur for Dr. Hooper, all she knew was that she was sitting very close to an overly chatty consulting detective. They were riding across from John and Mary who were animatedly discussing the details with Sherlock.
Mary would reach over periodically and squeeze Molly's hand—almost in a way of telling her to listen to the conversation—but Molly couldn't.
She was scared, and if it wasn't for the sheer force of his solid body next to hers—she would feel loss. Today she had experienced a flurry of emotions, heartbreak, fear, anxiety and worry.
She looked up at Sherlock, who caught her eye out of the corner of his—he half smiled and then continued with his conversation.
She needed comfort right now and found herself leaning into him ever so slightly—he was never an emotional or comforting person in general, but he didn't resist her—just moved his arm so she could rest her side flush against his.
When she looked up next they were at Baker Street, and Mrs. Hudson was rushing out of the front door toward the cabbie.
"Sherlock, you've seen the telly then?"
Her face was pale and gaunt—and her immediate reaction also made it clear that no one had told her about Sherlock's exile.
He grabbed her arms to steady the older woman, "Yes."
He motioned to the group, "Let's get inside."
Entering—they walked up the flight of stairs to 221B and made their way in. Although the flat was comforting in its unusual décor—it felt cold today.
Molly visibly shivered as she made her way over to the leather couch against the wall—the rest of the group huddled around her while Sherlock and John sat in their respectable chairs.
After a few moments Mary cleared her throat, igniting a response from Sherlock.
"Yes, well… we don't know whether this is a joke, or Moriarty himself—but we need to stay on guard."
John nodded beside him, "We all need to stay together, separating won't do us any good."
Sherlock hummed beside him but said nothing—he was thinking, his hands resting on his temple indicated to the group that he was delving into his mind palace—looking for any type of clue that he may have overlooked.
It was uncomfortably quiet until the static from the television changed to a fuzzy picture—at first no one noticed, but soon the picture became clear.
This time, instead of a picture of Moriarty—it was the man himself, standing in the same position—wearing a crisp suit—he looked directly at the television and spoke softly.
"Did you miss me?"
Molly shrieked, Mrs. Hudson began to cry and Sherlock darted toward the television—analyzing anything on the man's face that could give away any details.
"The remote, John! The remote!"
John tossed over the remote and Sherlock quickly hit record—the image replayed one more time—and then the TV static returned.
He slumped against the TV with a look of defeat—one that instantly scared Molly. He never looked beaten, never looked worried—but now it was etched across his handsome face.
"There's no denying it now" he said after a moment, "He really has returned."
Hours later Molly found herself curled up on Sherlock's couch. Mrs. Hudson was back downstairs in her apartment, and John and Mary had taken up residence in the abandoned and older 221C apartment. Thankfully Mrs. Hudson had the sense to keep it furnished enough, in a hope to attract new tenants.
Now Molly was curled up and eyeing Sherlock from across the room. He was sitting in his chair, his hands against his forehead and his eyes open. He seemed to be scanning the room, but Molly didn't know what for.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" she broke the silence with the question that had been lingering in her mind all day. Although Moriarty had returned, she still wanted to know exactly what had prompted Sherlock to say his goodbye to her earlier in the day at St. Bart's.
"About?"
"Why you said goodbye to me."
"I was leaving."
She scoffed and stood to sit in the chair across from him, coming closer she could see the light of the fire glinting in his eyes, "For how long?"
He shuffled, "Six months, or so Mycroft put it."
"So you would have returned then?"
"No."
He broke his contact with her and looked down at the ground, "I told you I was coming to say goodbye."
"You were leaving to die?" she said the words quietly and he almost had to strain to hear them.
"That doesn't matter now, I'm here."
"If Moriarty hadn't returned…"
He looked back up at her, "Please don't start that Molly, I would rather be on a plane to Eastern Europe right now than have that maniac back in our lives."
"How can you say that? The people who love you most in your life would have lost you!"
"And now I might lose them."
She began to reach for his hand but thought better, very rarely did Sherlock say exactly what he was thinking—in the sense of sentiment—and Molly idly wondered if it was because of the looming amount of stress building up.
She was about to tell him that he didn't need to be worried when his mobile rang.
"Speak."
Molly only assumed it was Mycroft from his tone, but watching she felt a sense of panic. Gone was the cool demeanor on his face—slowly it was changing to one of worry.
"I'll be right there."
He shut close the phone and stood quickly, grabbing his belstaff and shoes, "Stay here, go down to Mrs. Hudson's and don't open the door for anyone."
He walked out the door and after a moment walked back in, "Scrap that, grab your jacket—we need to all stay together."
After Sherlock rounded the rest of the group, including Mrs. Hudson who complained about the time of night—they hailed a taxi and made their way toward the Kings Cross tube station.
Walking down they were greeted by Lestrade and Sgt. Donovan who were pacing back and forth—in the distance Sherlock could see Mycroft speaking with an older man. When he eyed his brother he motioned for him to join him.
"See anything peculiar?"
Sherlock scanned the station, right now everything seemed fine. A vacant train was at the station waiting for any passengers that might join and when it began to move…
Sherlock's eyes widened at the note scrawled on the station's wall. Below the sign for the King's Cross Station was blood red graffiti stained onto the wall.
Did you miss me, Sherlock?
If you haven't seen the live version of Moriarty at the end of the Final Vow... Here is the link: watch?v=qWmEYq9oZxA
It's at the end of the credits!