Chapter 4

Molly awoke late the next morning, head pounding, unable to remember how she had gotten into her bed and also why she had decided to go to sleep in her bra and panties. She had a routine, always getting a shower and her pajamas on before she went to bed. Never in her underwear. What in the world happened last night? She attempted to roll over to view the time on her alarm clock and winced at the movement. Her stomach was rolling and her head was painful fuzzy mess. Her body didn't seem to be cooperating with her. When she was able to open her eyes wide enough in the brightness of her small bedroom, she groaned at the time that glared back at her in red neon numerals. 10:25. Oh gods, my boss is going to murder me. She reached up and put a hand to her head. The pressure building up in her temples was reaching astronomical levels. She feared she would puke if she attempted to move anymore. Never again. Never again will I drink. She wondered if the meds had caused her hangover to intensify. She knew better than to consume alcohol while on the amount of medicine she was currently on but frankly last night she didn't care.

What happened last night? She remembered arriving at the pub early so as to beat the guys there and loosen up a bit before the awkwardness of the conversation started. She remembered Sherlock's apology and something about singing karaoke. Past that everything was a swimming blur. I hope I didn't make too much of an ass of myself. Surely John had accompanied her home in her drunken state and she had taken it from there. She hoped.

She lay in the bed for a few more minutes, getting her bearings, mentally chiding herself and calming her stomach with a mind of matter mentality. She sat up and fingercombed her long hair back. She glanced once more over at the bedside table beside her. There lay a couple of aspirin, a glass of water, and a handwritten note. She picked it up and read:

Please call once you've awoken. This will calm your head.

SH

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. Sherlock Holmes had brought her home? Surely John had been with him. He rarely goes anywhere without him. She moaned in agony and embarrassment and facepalmed herself. Surely he hadn't stayed long enought to see me strip...She decided she didn't want to finish that sentence even if it was inside her head. She laid down the note and took the aspirin with the entire glass of water. She was sure she was dehydrated, the water tasted sweet. I'd better get with it. She encouraged herself and picked up her cell phone that had been placed beside the pills on the bedside. She considered for a moment. Had Sherlock seen her medicine bottles or anything? He was so damned observant. Perhaps her secret was out. She felt her heart rise up in her throat at the thought. Well, he'll find out one way or another I suppose. She dialed the lab number. It rang a few times before John's voice answered on the other end. "St. Bartholomew's laboratory."

"Hi, John. It's Molly. Just checking in." Molly choked out. John seemed to sigh on the other end. She heard him speaking to someone else. Perhaps it was Sherlock, she could almost be sure.

"So glad to hear you're okay. It's not like you not to not show and phone. Of course after last night, I didn't expect you here at your normal time." John sounded humored.

"I'm sorry. Thanks for looking out for me last night though. And tell Sherlock that I appreciate him making sure I got home okay." Molly answered.

"He seems relieved to hear you're alive and well." John spoke. Molly sneered at the irony of that answer but knew that John didn't know any better. "Do you need anything?"

"No, no. I'm going to drag myself out of bed and into the shower and then I'll be there. Hope I haven't set you two back on anything." Molly stretched and yawned.

"We're doing fine here. Although I'm sure Sherlock is anxious to have you in the lab. He's itching for you to pull out a few bodies for an experiment if you're willing." John was rolling his eyes, she knew it.

"All in a day's work. I'll see you soon. Bye." Molly smiled as she hung up the phone. It was nice to have a seemingly normal day ahead of her. If she could get to her medicine and douse this damned hangover headache. She made to move her legs out from under the comforter. Her left leg responded and landed on the floor, her right did not. She stared at her right leg. How funny, perhaps I slept on it and it's merely asleep? I didn't notice it before. She felt of the leg, noticing there was no feeling all the way up to where her thigh met her groin. Panic gripped her heart with icy cold hands and took hold. Didn't the doctor say this would happen? I'd start to lose control, motor function, but this quick?! What do I do?! She felt completely helpless. She struggled to make the leg move with her mind. It did not respond. She began to sob, fearful of her situation. She couldn't call John, that would reveal something was wrong. She picked up the phone and dialed her mom. The phone rang endlessly with no voicemail on the other end. Well, damn. She's traveled again, she'll be gone a week this time. I'd forgotten.

Molly sat in her bed, one leg upon the floor, the other laying lifeless within the bed, crying. She hadn't been able to cry, at least soberly that she knew of. She cried for five minutes. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. She struck at the leg again. No feeling. She picked up her cell phone one last time and dialed her doctor. Realizing that she was in a panic, the nurse connected her with the doctor immediately. He reassured her that it was a symptom, yes, but that if she were to take this pill and that pill the swelling upon her brain would lessen some and perhaps it would help. Did she want him to call an ambulance? No. She would try the medicine first. She hung up the phone and looked towards the bathroom. She had hidden the pills in her makeup bag so that anyone who visited, who was no one hardly ever, would mistakingly find them.

She moved the right leg out onto the floor and made to stand, thinking perhaps the leg would remember and awaken naturally. This didn't happen, and Molly ended up falling into the floor. She cried out as she fell. She laid in the floor and cried some more, feeling more angry than anything else now. Why was this happening to her? What had she done to deserve this? Why couldn't she just admit to someone that something was happening instead of trudging on alone and dealing with situations such as this on her own? She hated herself in that moment. She looked up towards the bathroom, wiped the tears from her eyes and proceeded to half crawl, half drag herself to the tiled floor. She pulled herself up onto the toilet seat and knocked her makeup bag off the shelf of the cabinet. She found the medications she had been instructed to take and swallowed down the pills. She calmed herself with a few more deep breaths and leaned the other way, starting herself a shower. She knew she wouldn't be able to stand, but she'd be damned if she wasn't going to clean herself up after last nights catastrophe.

When the water had warmed, she stripped off her bra and panties and pulled herself into the tub, laying under the running water and closing her eyes. She drifted, her headache easing, her thoughts becoming clearer. She didn't know if it was the medicine, the shower, or the clarity of her situation that was causing her to become more like herself. She grabbed the washcloth and proceeded to wash up. She glanced down at her right leg. It was tingling, as if it was been asleep for a prolonged amount of time. She willed it to move with her mind and slowly she raised it to meet her outstretched hands to scrub the length of it. She cried out in victory, a tear stained smile upon her face. The meds had worked, or the sheer willpower she had within her had forced it to. She felt relieved.

Twenty minutes later she stood up out of the shower, and toweled off carefully. The meds had helped her regain use of her leg, but they always made her groggy and wistful. She wrapped the towel about her and started out to the phone once more. She noted five missed calls from the lab. Probably my boss. She can suck an egg. I'm on my way. She dialed her doctor once more and told the nurse that she was okay, the issue was resolved. The doctor wanted to see her the following day. She wrote the appointment time down. She hung up and eyed the missed calls once more. Piss off. I'll just get dressed and go in. If she wants to speak to me she can do it there.

Molly padded slowly once more to the bathroom and was in the process of drying her hair when Sherlock appeared quickly around the corner. She screamed and jumped at the sight of him and he seemed equally taken aback at the sight of her in a towel bent over and drying her hair. She turned off the hair dryer and leaned on the sink, feeling faint and stoked on adrenaline all at the same time. "What are you doing here?!" She breathed, her hand across her chest to still her racing heart.

"I'm sorry. You hadn't showed. It's been over an hour since you phoned and John was worried you'd fallen back asleep." Sherlock stood up straighter, hands clasped behind his back. "I needed to run back to Bakerstreet to fetch my papers, so I figured I'd swing by and check to make sure all was well."

Sherlock checking up on me? Molly's heart did a little dance at the thought. "I'm fine, I didn't mean to worry anyone." She stood, vulnerable and feeling nearly naked in front of the consulting detective. "I just took a little longer to get out of bed is all." She clutched the towel and held it close to her to prevent it from falling.

"Well, then. If you don't mind I'll wait in the living room and accompany you back to St. Bartholomew's? Save on cab fare." Sherlock nodded to her and back out of the bedroom towards the living room. Molly took a deep breath and smiled to herself. There's always a silver lining. I hope I can remember that when things begin to get worse.


"I'll take that skin sample now if you're ready for me to." Molly stated as she came around the corner of the lab counter carrying her kit of test tubes and chemicals. Sherlock glanced up from his microscope and nodded, giving her a small smile as he handed over said sample to her. She took it and quickly applied herself to mixing up the chemicals and diving into her work. Sherlock looked after her for a moment in a sideways glance.

He'd had a lot to think about after leaving Molly's flat last night. Her profession of love had been a shock to him, although the longer he'd thought about it the more it occurred to him that he should have known. He had known ever since his deduction of her at Christmas that she had a crush on him, but it appeared her infatuation went deeper than he had expected. He had had woman callers before, although he'd had no interest in them. There were far too many pressing things in the world to study and deduce than a woman's horomonal meanderings. John was the only other human being he could possibly tolerate on a daily basis, but he figured that was partly because John understood him and knew when to argue and when to back off. He knew he was a difficult and rather blunt person emotionally.

After realizing that he had hurt Molly's feelings after she had put him firmly in his place, he had begun to look at her somewhat differently. Here is a woman who has given up countless hours of her time to assist me. Who has the intellect to be able to correctly identify things and help me figure out something after death. She's also the woman who helped me to fake my death not so long ago. No one else would have been trustworthy enough. Sherlock cocked his head as he thought, taking turns between looking into his microscope and observing Molly as she worked. Why would any woman be so patient with me? Especially when I've hurt her so?

John came up beside Sherlock and for once he didn't notice. "Sherlock." John had been calling to him and he hadn't noticed that either. He glanced up to an amused John Watson. "Feeling okay there?"

"Of course. What is it?" He cleared his throat and straightened up as to shake off the thoughts he was having and concentrate on the task at hand.

"Can you deduce anything about her?" John asked. He motioned to Molly. "Something's different about her but I can't place it. Yelling back at you like she did, which I applaud her for, by the way. Drinking to excess, not showing up after checking in an hour before...I'm wondering if there's something up." John watched her cautiously, not wanting her to know.

Sherlock glanced back at her. She seemed herself, although perhaps a little paler and spacier than normal. He figured it was the hangover that was causing her to be this way. He thought back to the kiss.. "I can't place anything different about her. Not any more than usual. Perhaps she's just had a rough week." Sherlock found the words strange as they came out of his mouth. Molly glanced up and his eyes widened as if he'd been caught. She smiled at him and grabbed something else she needed before going back to it.

"Hmm, perhaps. Although I wouldn't call a kiss after a lecture a rough week." John smiled and patted Sherlock on the shoulder before turning back to the book he'd been studying. Sherlock stared at the microbes moving about on the slide in his microscope. He was becoming completely curious. He needed to find out why she was so stuck on him and why he couldn't place why something seemed off.


Hours later, Molly was tired and ready for a cup of tea and the warmth of her bed. She flipped off lights and took hold of her coat. She leaned on her desk for a moment and let herself rest. She was finding it difficult to function at the hours she used to keep. If the cancer doesn't kill me, the meds will. She put on her coat and exited the office to find the two men preparing to leave as well. "Good night, Molly. Hope to see you soon." John smiled and gave her a friendly peck on the cheek before he and Sherlock started out the door.

"Yeah, you too." She smiled tiredly, trying to make it seem as perky as she normally felt. She was straining lately and it made her sad. She started down the hallway the opposite way, hoping to exit the back of St. Bartholomew's and catch a cab from the back alley. She didn't know if she had the energy to walk all the way down the other end of the hospital as she normally did.

"Molly," She heard that deep baritone voice call after her. She stopped and turned, confused to see Sherlock walking up to her, coat and scarf in place as they always were. She loved that scarf, and wondered what it would feel like to nuzzle into it in a hug. Sherlock looked awkward once more, and she smiled genuinely up at him. "I was wondering if you'd want to join me after work one night for dinner. Perhaps not tonight, as you seem a bit tired. I'm sure the hangover still has you." He gave her an uncomfortable grin. She was taken aback. Am I even awake? Has this entire day perhaps been a dream? There's no way on god's green earth that Sherlock Holmes is asking me...

"Really?" Was all she could answer in disbelief. Sherlock didn't appear to know how to answer that, as he was probably expecting a yes or no. "I mean, I'd love to. I'm sorry, it's been a long day..." Molly ran her hand across her brow, the headache beginning to strengthen once more. They were almost constant now.

"Brilliant." He smiled at her. I've actually asked a woman out on a date. I'm growing by leaps and bounds as well it would seem. Sherlock took her hand and gave it a chaste kiss upon it. "Perhaps tomorrow?" Molly nodded and smiled widely. Her blood was afire with excitement. "I look forward to it, Ms. Hooper. Good evening." Sherlock released her and headed down the hallway, placing his hands in his pockets as he did so. Molly watched after him until he disappeared around the corner. Possibly to where John was waiting. She smiled. A date with Sherlock Holmes. My silver lining. Molly turned and headed out the back door and towards the street with hope in her heart and an ache in her temple.


This is a tragedy, but I'm planning on a few happy surprises for Molly before this is all over with. Next chapter will be Molly and Sherlock's date, and new revelations. :)