Enjoy.
Molly watched as Sherlock threw ever more furnishings into her trolley. Bedding, a bath mat, corded telephone...she'd have to ask about that last one. Sherlock was making himself at home. She wanted to point out that she didn't have a car and how on earth would they get this back to her apartment? And was he staying in her apartment?
Sherlock waved a red towel in front of her face. 'The colour of blood. Don't you think? Molly?' She'd zoned out completely.
She appraised the towel and nodded quizzically. 'Yes, I suppose it is.' He popped it into the trolley. Was it normal for a friend to follow you to the far side of planet earth? Had Sherlock ever been considered normal? Molly's new mobile buzzed.
I'll be in touch. - Mycroft
Molly would have dropped her phone, but then it wasn't the first time Mycroft had acquired a private number, or the first time he'd asked for her help with his little brother.
It became apparent Sherlock had acquired lodgings above an Irish bar. Trust Sherlock to find the closest thing to England in Asia, second only to living in the embassy. And that wouldn't have agreed with Sherlock's bending of the law.
'A fellow named Peng lives there and runs the Irish pub downstairs,' Sherlock said smiling in a satisfied manner. He was pleased with his new arrangement. Molly wished she could say the same. Her flat was in a large nondescript block of identical doors and barred windows. Her neighbours scurried away whenever she exited the elevator or wanted to ask how to use the dryer. She felt like an outsider. Even in London the old lady at number 33 would smile and say good morning and occasionally ask her to cat sit.
She was so so overjoyed that Sherlock was here. She felt she rather needed a friend right now.
A painful hour on the metro system, that would have been otherwise pleasant if not for the tons of shopping, and Molly sort of wished he'd stayed in England. But only sort of.
"Sherlock what are you even going to do here?" Molly asked a little exasperated.
"Solve crimes. Honestly Molly is that not obvious?" He signalled a taxi to take them the rest of the way.
'But-but you don't speak Chinese?" At least he wouldn't be sitting in the apartment shooting walls. Did he speak Chinese? She passed him some bags.
'I will, soon enough. I've signed up for a class.' He started putting the things into the taxi. 'You were planning to learn I assume? I can never understand people who travel without learning the language. Might as well leave your brain at home.' It made her laugh, but just for the brain jokes they'd had over the years.
'Yes, I was.' She climbed into the backseat and Sherlock showed the address on his phone screen to the driver.
'The police force might not be so interested in hiring a consulting detective here.'
Sherlock humphed. 'I'm about to solve one of their oldest cases and trust me it needs solving.' Molly had all kinds of fears in life, but that Sherlock would land on his feet…usually that wasn't something she worried about. His heroin addiction gave her pause. But if she was here maybe he would resist temptation. They needed to find a local drugstore and stock up in Nicotine patches asap.