A/N: Thank you so much for waiting patiently for a new chapter! I will try to update once a week. Please read and review!
"Okay, Molly, I think we are ready for you to get out of here." Mary jotted a few last things down on the clipboard at the foot of her bed before handing it to a different nurse. "We really must go out for drinks sometime, okay?" Molly agreed, and the two girls smiled at each other. She and Mary had become good friends over the few days, after she had realized that Mary was John's girlfriend. No wonder she had been so well taken care of. It was a good thing that so many of her friends were in higher places.
Mary carefully settled Molly into a wheelchair and rolled her down into the St. Bart's lobby. She was kept in the hospital overnight to make sure that her pain had gone down. She didn't mind very much, but as it had been a day and a half of uncomfortable and invasive procedures and questions, Molly was keen to get home. Not that she could actually go to her own home. Sherlock had arranged for her to stay with Mrs. Hudson while he tracked down her attacker. Molly was fond of Mrs. Hudson, so it wasn't as unbearable. She did very much want to just go home, but she supposed it was for the best.
The doors to the outside of the hospital slid open, and John stood there with a freshly hailed cab. He was to escort her back to 221B, and by the looks of the luggage-filled trunk he had already stopped by her place to retrieve some of her clothes, personal items, and Toby.
Mary placed her hand gently behind Molly's waist and hoisted her up off the chair. They quickly exchanged a friendly hug and Molly gave Mary her sincerest thanks for everything she had done to help her. John gave his girlfriend a kiss on the cheek as he took Mary's place and helped Molly into the cab. He slowly sat her down and buckled her seatbelt, as her sling restricted most movements of her dominant arm. John scurried into the car and ordered the driver off to Baker Street.
The ride was filled mostly with chit chat. Molly asked about his relationship with Mary and teased him on why she hadn't met her before now. After a while, Molly became quite sore from the bumps and jerks of the cab, so she and John quieted for a small while. Leaning her head on the side panel, she gazed out the window. Everything looked so normal. How could that be when her whole world had recently been toppled upside down? "Time waits for nobody," Molly supposed. "It just keeps going. Time doesn't have setbacks like humans. It's not even a real thing, yet it's godlier than humans."
A few moments later, the cabbie stopped the car at the front door of 221B Baker Street. John threw some bills at the driver and stepped out of the car, rushing to help unbuckle Molly like a gentleman. Suddenly, a sleek black car pulled up behind the cab. Some strange men in nice suits jumped out and headed toward them, making Molly nervous. She shuffled a bit behind John for some distance.
Noticing her discomfort, he turned around and said, "It's okay, Molly, it's just Sherlock's brother Mycroft. He likes to make dramatic entrances. Though I'm not entirely sure why he's here." She breathed a sigh and stared at the older man making his way towards them. He looked forty-something with a beautifully tailored suit and an old yet friendly complexion.
"Hello, John. Molly." He gave them both a short nod. "Considering that there's only one person around here that's not ill of health, I have brought some people to help move your belongings into this barely adequate residence. I extend my deepest sympathies to you, Molly, for your unfortunate experience. I will, of course, pay the rent for your vacant apartment during your stay here." He smiled a bit at her before moving past them to direct his men into Mrs. Hudson's apartment.
Molly looked back at Sherlock's older brother with wide eyes, hardly comprehending their one-ended conversation. Who in the world would waltz up and insist on paying for her flat? She didn't get much time to think on it, as John urged her inside. "Let's get you resting." She and John entered the building and made their way towards 221A. Molly knocked sharply on the door, and the sounds made her head pulsate. John was right, I need to take it easy. And maybe take some pain pills.
After a few moments, Molly knocked again. "Mrs. Hudson?" she asked shyly. There was no reply. John knocked a bit louder. She was an older lady after all; her hearing was probably not as keen as it used to be.
A thundering noise rolled down the steps, and Sherlock stood before them, handsome as ever with his coat and scarf on. Disregarding Molly and John completely, he strolled past them.
"Sherlock, where's Mrs. Hudson? Is she upstairs?"
The Consulting Detective stopped short and turned around, facing the two. "Mrs. Hudson has been called away from Baker Street. Her sister has fallen ill; seeing as the door isn't locked and she left her scarf sitting on the ground here, she was in rather of a hurry-possibly in distress." The silky lavender scarf lay on the ground. He picked it up and folded it into his coat pocket. "I would say by the hurry of the lady in question her sister is ill with the flu and possibly dying. We shall see when she returns or calls; I estimate she will phone in one week time." Sherlock suddenly turned around and walked toward the door again.
"But Sherlock, Molly was supposed to stay with Mrs. Hudson, she can't stay by herself." John walked over to him and grabbed his arm. "Where is she supposed to go now?"
He glared at John with a look in his eyes. "Isn't it obvious? Molly is to stay with us. She will take my room, seeing as I hardly sleep anyway. I shall make do on the couch." The best friends looked at Molly, who was standing with confusion plain on her face. She looked a bit sick. Sherlock walked over to Molly and stared at her face as if to figure out what was running through her mind.
"Molly Hooper, welcome to 221B."