Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC and this story is loosely based on Forever, a U.S. TV Series.
March 1845
The marriage between Henry Page and Molly Hooper was an extremely unhappy one and everyone knew it. Her husband had a long string of mistresses and illegitimate children while his wife had bruises on her arms, neck and sometimes face to prove it. No amount of cloth could cover up the beatings.
Molly nowadays rarely visited her parents since Mother would just cry at the sight of her only child suffering yet helpless with the ongoing situation and Father would only ignore her, reluctant to concede that he made a mistake in arranging such a match for his daughter that practically destroyed the rest of her life.
The couple were travelling to Scotland where during the unfortunate journey, they encountered highwaymen. Instead of giving in to the demands of handing over all of their valuables, Molly's hot-headed husband decided to fight against the small group of robbers by himself after they killed all of their servants. Without hesitation, the leader shot Henry and turned to Molly. It was a futile attempt but her fear propelled Molly to flee from the scene and she was shot from the back.
Molly tripped and rolled down the slope before falling into the nearby river. Her heavy shirts began to pull her down to the bottom of the river. Molly wanted to shout for help but ended up gulping in more water and she soon lost consciousness. By the time Molly woke up, it was already dark. Dragging herself out of the water, she found herself with no wounds and for a moment thought that the robbery was nothing but a dream.
Mystified, Molly climbed over the slope and saw the carriage they were riding earlier on was reduced to ashes and the smell of burnt flesh filled up her nostrils. Then matters took a turn for the worse when constables appeared and arrested Molly, claiming that she was responsible for killing her husband and also their servants so no one would ever know of her crimes. It was as if she entered a different world. Molly tried to explain but the police did not believe her, why would they when her story sounded so implausible?
The pathologist reached her flat, feeling like a lost soul that wandered for far too long and an arm reached out, stopping Molly in her tracks. "Are you feeling well? You look pale, Molly." The British Government asked with concern evident on his face. "I'm fine. Nothing's wrong, don't worry. Don't tell me you came here just to ask me that, Mycroft? Go, you must be very busy." She would not implicate him, not when Molly now knew of her husband's existence. He might even be watching them.
Whatever Mycroft wanted to say, Molly interrupted him. "Do you trust me? Do you…believe in me?" His look spoke for himself. The pathologist did not dare to tell him that his trust in her was deeply displaced because she needed it badly when no one else would believe her, Molly's parents did not while Martha would but it would be solely and blindly based on the fact that she's her mother.
"Sir…" Mycroft's driver respectfully urged him. Molly opened the door and lightly pushed him into the car. The British Government grabbed her wrist, "I would see you tonight?" The pathologist gave him a small smile, "If you are free," and pulled herself free of Mycroft's hold. Molly turned around after the black sedan drove off and heard an explosion seconds later. The sound waves pushed her onto the ground and Molly could feel the heat on her back.
All she could hear was sharp buzzing but that did not stop the pathologist from unsteadily rushing over to the damaged car. The driver was killed instantaneously and ignoring the warning of others that the vehicle might explode the second time, Molly hauled Mycroft out of it. "Call the ambulance!" Shouting to the onlookers, she tried to not let the British Government fall into unconsciousness, fearing that he might never wake up again.
"Don't sleep, Mycroft! Stay awake, stay awake!" The pathologist knew she had to remain calm in order to help him but Molly could barely hold herself together. Adam did this, it must be; he planted a bomb in Mycroft's car. It was all her fault. "You l-lied, Molly. I...never found another whale…I became the British Government…partly because I wanted to f-find you…I still kept the sweet wrapper that you gave me, s-silly me…When I went back home, I waited for you at the playground every…day…"
Later that week
"What are you doing here? You are trespassing, get out! I have a gun!" Anyone would have taken the warning seriously if the woman who uttered it was wearing anything aside from a towel wrapped around her body and another around her head. "Kitty Riley? The reporter who had been covering my story right from the start?" It was not hard to deduce since there was a board filled with Molly's information sitting on the dinner table.
"And apparently sleeping with your informant too. Mixing business with pleasure? So much for professionalism, Miss Riley." Adam came out of the bedroom wearing a bathrobe and was startled by Molly's presence. "Stay away from Darren! You would no longer harm or threaten him! You don't have to worry anymore, baby. Molly Hooper would soon be arrested for her crimes and you could finally escape from her." The reporter bravely stood in front of 'Darren', acting as a human shield protecting him against the pathologist while he cowered with fear.
"Yet you would shoot me but not call the police?" Molly raised one eyebrow at the comical pair and 'Darren' smirked behind the reporter's back. "Because you are still more of a reporter than a law-abiding citizen of this nation," the pathologist said sarcastically. "How about a one-to-one interview? Come to St. Bart's tomorrow morning and you would have your big scope." Before Kitty Riley could nod, Molly had already left.
"I'm so sorry, Sherlock." Molly could not do this alone and the first name that came to her mind was the consulting detective. The police was probably looking everywhere for her but sometimes the most dangerous place was the safest. Also, the pathologist knew the positions of all security cameras in the lab and morgue to avoid detection.
Sherlock obliged Molly by turning around but remained silent. At least his eyes did not show contempt, disgust or anger which she fully deserved. "If I was not everything that you think I am – everything that I think I am – would you still want to help me?"
"What do you need?" Molly risked the chance of getting caught and decided to come here but she was unsure of what to expect from Sherlock, if he would aid her or send her to the Scotland Yard so his reply did surprise her. Molly started to walk towards the consulting detective; her eyes shining bright with emotions that the pathologist tried very hard to hide.
"Sherlock, I think I'm going to die." To know if one led a meaningful life, count not the number of supposed friends one had when alive but the number of people who would truly mourn for one's passing. Molly supposed only Martha would cry at her death and the reason being she was her mother even if the pathologist was a lousy one. It would seem that she had lived her two hundred years of life in vain, Molly chuckled dryly.
"What do you need?" One tear escaped Molly's tight defence as she moved closer to Sherlock. The pathologist's death would be considered as confessing to crimes that she never committed but Molly could see no other way out.
"You." The consulting detective was her only hope. If breaking Molly down was what Adam wanted then he achieved it.
"I always wanted to kiss you, Molly." And Sherlock did just that. Once his lips met hers, the consulting detective knew there was no turning back for him. He effortlessly lifted the pathologist onto the laboratory table. To make space, his long arm swept the beakers away, sending them crashing to the floor. The sound of broken glass aided Molly in regaining some sense. "First time should never take place on a table, Sherlock."
Molly hopped down from the table and led Sherlock to her office which had a makeshift bed. She used to force him to rest on it while waiting for lab results when the consulting detective had not shut his eyes for days working on a case. "Did you say the same thing to Mycroft before?" The pathologist froze and Sherlock wondered if his unfiltered words had spoilt everything.
"No, not exactly," Molly answered truthfully. "I knew you and Miss Adler did not progress to this stage. Regardless of the reason, now that you know how I really am, do you still want to have sex with me? Most importantly, give your virginity to me? Because, Sherlock, I do not want you to regret." Maybe the fact that she was dying soon was clouding her judgment but not all of her wits left Molly entirely.
Sherlock's response was to pull the pathologist right under him and resume kissing her. Even though his brother met Molly first, tonight she was his. Guilt towards Mycroft was pushed far away from his mind when time was slipping through Sherlock's hands like sand. Besides, the consulting detective always bent the rules to suit him and to his advantage. Mycroft had the pathologist long enough while Sherlock could only have her for a mere few hours.
If he met her before his brother, what would happen instead? Change what one could and accept when one could not. For the consulting detective, pondering on matters that did not happen equalled to a total wastage of time so it was best to focus on the present, the only thing that Sherlock could control and he chose to spend one night with Molly, the night before she had to die.
Molly was honest to Mycroft when she said this 'Molly Hooper, the pathologist' was not an act, at least not completely. Before she met the British Government again two decades later, Molly had developed feelings for the consulting detective. However she could not let herself be in love, whether it was with Mycroft, Sherlock, James or even Sebastian, not when the pathologist was cursed.
It took them the rest of the night to plan and by next morning, the stage was set. Her finale was ready for show. Molly was thankful that Sherlock did not ask her any questions about it but the doubt was there. "You are not going to ask me about what happened?"
"Is there a need to?" The consulting detective looked at her where the belief in his eyes never wavered. On second thought, perhaps the pathologist's life was not totally led in vain. Molly opened her mouth but bit her lower lip and in the end chose to not say it. Soon they were informed that Kitty Riley was on her way to St. Bart's and ETA in approximate twenty-five minutes.
"About last night…" Sherlock broke off his sentence; the uncertainty in his voice was prominent so the pathologist took over. "It was born out of necessity. You needed something and I was able to provide it." Molly gave the consulting detective what she hoped was a reassuring smile but the topic was not meant to be comfortable and he nodded with a sober face.
Molly knew the annoying and rude behaviour acted as armour to his sensitive soul but she did not want Sherlock to be under any false impressions because that would only hurt him even more so the pathologist left. She was never the right person for anyone. "I remembered you, Molly. After all these years, I had not forgotten about you." The consulting detective acknowledged it out loud to the empty room.
Standing at the rooftop, Molly had a few precious minutes to herself before the show began. She initially wanted to tell Sherlock about their fleeting encounter before they were officially introduced in St. Bart's. Molly found a young man in his early twenties obviously high on drugs and alone. He was lying in the gutter and despite being a shallow one; he would have most likely drowned himself given his condition.
Feeling helpful on that particular day, Molly heaved him of the foul-smelling gutter and shook him until he woke up. His eyes blinked at her as he slowly got his bearings back. She heard multiple footsteps moving towards them and guessed someone was coming to pick him up after all. Molly hid in one corner and watched as two of them lugged the young man to his feet while the third man was speaking very angrily to him.
Molly could not see the older man or hear his words clearly but it was obvious that they knew him well enough so considering to have completed her 'kind act of the day', she departed but not before catching the name of that young man, Sherlock.
Imagine Molly's surprise when she found out the man she helped was Mycroft's brother. Nonetheless their brief meeting took place at a time where it was not one of Sherlock's best moments, one that left much to be desired and expected of him so Molly decided to not stir up the consulting detective's rather unsavoury past because the pathologist saw no point in it and let the sleeping dogs lie.
With five more minutes to go, Molly called Mrs Hudson and she picked up after two rings. "Molly? Is that you? Mum? Where are you? Are you alright? Scotland Yard is looking everywhere for you." The pathologist took a while to recover. "Yes, I know. Forgive me, Martha. You deserved a better mother but having you was the greatest joy in my life. Take care of yourself and I love you, my dear. Goodbye."
Molly quickly ended the call, not trusting herself that she would be able to continue talking any longer. From the vantage point, she could see Kitty Riley alighting from the cab and dialled her number. On the other hand, at 221B, Mrs Hudson was desperately trying to call back Molly but the line was engaged.
"Miss Riley, I'm glad that you turned up for our interview. Any reporter worth of their salt would not miss this opportunity. Stop right there, Miss Riley. Don't worry, I did promise you a big scope yesterday, didn't I? Look up; I'm at the rooftop of St. Bart's. Keep your eyes on me and listen very carefully as to what I'm going to say next. I am not a killer and I would prove my innocence with this fall."
Molly threw away her phone, drew in a deep breath and took the plunge. Kitty Riley screamed at the sight before her and a sickening thud was heard soon after. Her reporter's instincts kicked in and she ran towards the gathering crowd. The reporter stared at the unmoving and bloodied body of the pathologist lying in front of her. "She's dead, she's really dead. Oh god, Molly Hooper killed herself," Kitty Riley muttered in shock.
Author's note: I just wanted to know how far I could go with this *apologetic smile*