Chapter 3
"What do you know? Mycroft, if you had something to do with this!" Sherlock whispered sounding more lethal than ever. If it were possible for flames to shoot from his icy orbs, then Mycroft would be a pile of ash on the floor. His fury burned through his veins, seeking along every line till it hummed in his finger tips.
"If you must know dear brother, Miss Hooper contacted me some weeks ago. She was quite upset; she wished to request a favour." Mycroft's high and mighty attitude was enough, Sherlock snapped. Seized him buy his overpriced jacket lapels and with swift movements rammed him up the nearest wall.
"What have you done?!" Sherlock all but screamed into his brother's face. He vibrated with anger. Never had he thought she would abandon him like this, she was the only constant in his life. She had been his stalwart standing fast. A unshakeable presence and most of all she was always there. For her diminutive size he felt safe with her, emotionally safe an odd thing for a sociopath to feel. There was no home here anymore her absence almost palatable, a hollow feeling settled in his gut. He felt her seep out of his every atom, slipping away from him leaving the world grey and colourless.
"Sherlock, what in the devil is wrong with you? She merely requested that I stop my surveillance of her. I was quite surprised that she had spotted them, as per you instruction my best men were watch her. After this sanitizing conversation, I took it upon myself to check on few things." At his brothers words Sherlock slowly lower Mycroft back to the floor.
"After a brief and enlightening look into Miss Hooper's finances, I found a large withdrawal by a removal company. Hence my deduction that Molly had indeed moved away." Sherlock let go of his brother, Mycroft shocked at his brother's outburst of aggression dusted of his lapels and picked off a bit of lint with distain.
Sherlock started pacing so furiously that John worried he would wear a hole in the floor. John understood that Sherlock was a very bottled up individual, all his talk of being a sociopath was in his opinion rubbish. His friend felt too deeply and so masked it in indifference and called himself sociopath. This however was not what he could have predicted of his friend. He knew Sherlock thought highly of Molly but to go raving mad over her absence; if he did know better he would say Sherlock loved her. That of course wasn't possible was it, he wasn't as sure as Sherlock began muttering to himself.
"Mycroft leave I need to think." He remarked, making a shooing motion with his hands. With an indignant huff Mycroft turned on his heels and strode out of the morgue.
"John, she's gone what do, I do. What would you do if it were Mary?" Bloody hell he does love her, was the only thought that went through John's head. Now she was gone and Sherlock looked like a lost Puppy.
"Bloody hell, Sherlock why didn't you say anything?" He said running a hand through the sandy grey of his hair. He still couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.
"What I would do? Doesn't matter it's what you're going to do now. You need to fix this Sherlock but first we must find Molly"
