Chapter 2
Two weeks later
He hadn't been to the morgue for two months, some sort of record for him. He had taken any case, any case at all to keep him from St Bart's. It's not that he was scared to face the petit woman who resided there. Her fury had struck a chord with him and he could not bear her disappointment. Even though the drug use had been for a case, the most important case to date. The result of it had banished him to exile from his home. From his family and loved ones, not that he would ever admit to those sentimental feelings lesser mortals were prone to. He had said his goodbye to the other's but could not bear to see the sadness and pain shine from Molly's eyes. He had seen that look too many times, mostly caused by himself. His heart, what little of it he admitted to broke at the thought. To witness that amount of grief was more than he could stand. Just the image of those brown orbs shining with tears brought him physical pain.
He had been a coward, something he was not used to one bit. Though he regretted it now, he knew the true reason he couldn't tolerate her presence at the scene of his leaving. He was afraid, deadly afraid that if he saw her he would be unable to leave. He had come to realise that he harboured a similar affection to her that she did for him. Yes love was exactly what he felt for her, had for quite some time. To realise this before having to leave it behind, was the worst kind of pain he had ever experienced. Then when Moriarty had made an appearance his blood had run cold. So he had distanced himself, drawing all the attention onto himself. He wanted to shield her just in case Moriarty was real, he want no lead he could follow back to her. She was his queen and the only one who had captured his heart and mind. With a quiet purpose he entered the morgue. He would explain to Molly everything that had happened, his reason for murder, her absence from the send off and his from that time on. He would throw himself on her mercy. Beg her to consider an us between them, he refused to be a boyfriend. Only there was no Molly, he checked his watch. 10:30am it was a Tuesday, he had her schedule memorised after all. Instead a tall, short brown haired man stood in her place. His long features heightened by the over head lights. His scruffy beard covered most of his face, even though it was only a short one it gave him a look of a cowboy. Instantly he disliked the man.
"Can I help you sir, by rights you not allowed down here?" If Sherlock disliked him before he hated him now. The thick American accent grated on his nerves. The man's cheerful nature made him scowl but there was a sombre depth to him, obviously hiding a big secret. He had repaired watches at some point. Before he got tired of his work and decided on a different career path.
"Yes, fetch me Molly Hooper. Please" He added as an afterthought. Instantly he dismissed the yank. He turned toward Molly's office.
"You won't find her in there. Molly left; she had a great job offer and accepted. You must be Mr Holmes, I was told about you. Your access is allowed at the highest level. I did wonder when we would meet and why you only ever came here on Molly's shifts."
His statements were like ice, Molly, gone. Sherlock could feel the blood drain from his face. He felt as if he were being torn this way and that. Part of him wanted to squeeze every last morsel of information from Mr Monroe or run from the room and track Molly down. He stilled his mind black as a slate. Even the door opening behind him and the set of two people's footfalls didn't even break through.
"Sherlock, Greg text me, we have a case I believe and I need to get away from Marys hormones for a bit." John laughed "Sherlock?"
"It seems my brother has finally found out about Miss Hooper's resignation." Mycroft's droll tone finally broke through.
