Setting Fire to our Insides for Fun, Collecting Names of the Lovers that went Wrong
A/N: Hello minions, sorry about the slow updating, I'm just about to head into exam time and I've been very sick lately. Well here it is: chapter four.
On Tuesday night Sherlock had to be rushed to A and E. John had found him struggling to breathe; the acrid stench of tobacco filling his bedroom. After doing a few tests the doctors found out that Sherlock's cancer was much more advanced then they'd initially thought. Things were not looking good and Sherlock was admitted to intensive care where he was injected with countless drugs as he coughed up more and more blood.
The next morning found Molly sitting by Sherlock's bed, watching him pull on all of the tubes and machines that were attached to him as he slept restlessly. Mary and John arrived as soon as visiting hours started; Molly hadn't been asked to leave the night before which really made her wonder just how much time Sherlock had left.
"You're the only one who can make her, you know that," Molly heard Mary say. Ah, they were going to make her eat and function like a normal human being.
"I'll stay with him," Mary told Molly as John dragged her as gently as possible away from Sherlock.
"We're only going upstairs," John assured her as he guided her past an endless maze of offices and sure enough, the hospital cafeteria was only a few floors up from where Molly had left Sherlock.
John bought Molly some strong coffee and a sandwich, sitting down with her at a far table, away from the other bleary-eyed patrons.
"Why do I have such horrible taste in men, John?" Molly asked as she showed John the pack of cigarettes she had found in Sherlock's bag.
"You don't have horrible taste in men," John replied automatically.
"Oh really," Molly said skeptically, raising one eyebrow. "Everyone I've ever dated fits neatly into one of three categories; idiots, psychopaths and dying sociopaths."
"He isn't dying, Molly," John insisted weakly.
She looked at him dubiously. "He's thirty-four years old and he has advanced lung cancer that has just been discovered, he'll be lucky to get five years an—"
"You like fixing people—" John interrupted, changing the subject.
"Says the doctor!" Molly replied.
"—that's why you date who you date," John continued. "You want to fix them."
"Then why can't I fix him!" whispered Molly, picking apart her sandwich angrily.
"Because people aren't there to be fixed," John replied. "It's just why you date the people you do. It's why my life is full of the irreparably broken and secretive, however I can't say that it's why Sherlock has ever dated anyone. He likes a challenge. Janine meant nothing to him; she was merely a means to an end. Irene was the woman who beat him which provided a challenge I guess, and then there's you."
"What do you mean, and then there's me?" Molly asked but John wasn't listening, probably on purpose and so she decided to drop the question.
"Tell me about you and Mary," Molly requested, searching desperately for something to take her mind off the man who laid only a few floors below her.
"What is there to tell?" John asked himself out loud. "Well I guess, Molly, I think she's the one. Do you believe in all that?"
"I thought I did," Molly replied. "I really want to."
"It has always been you for him Molly. Always." John replied, looking into Molly's warm, soul-searching eyes and he was right. Sherlock and Molly's paths had been destined to cross since the beginning of time, perhaps even earlier.
A/N: Hello again, huge thanks to Hoodoo and DetectiveSilence. I know that this chapter isn't very long so my apologies but I believe that writing is more about quality then quantity and I'm hoping that you're enjoying the story so far. Feel free to review and I hope that you've learned something about the characters in this chapter.