And now for a twist…
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MHMHMHMH
FOUR
Dawn finally seeped through the windows. Molly's whole frame ached. She'd never been so tired in all her life—not even after pulling that all night study session at end of last term. Methodically, she rubbed her thumb back and forth, back and forth across Sherlock's hand, watching his chest rise and fall…rise and fall…one, two…one, two…in, out…in, out…
A tap at the door. She dully lifted her head. The door opened, and Martha rolled a trolley in, bearing breakfast.
"Thank you," Molly rasped. She sat up, and scooted the trolley closer to her. And she managed to eat all her breakfast with only her left hand.
She drained the last bit of tea from her cup and pushed the trolley out of the way, her gaze falling on Sherlock's pallid face again. She swallowed, a deep pain in her throat.
"Don't ever do that to me again," she whispered, inexplicably feeling tears prick her eyes. "Promise me. Promise me you won't."
Sherlock just kept breathing. One, two…one, two…in, out…in, out…
At long last, the door opened again. And the lean, imposing figure of Mycroft Holmes loomed in the frame.
He motioned to her.
"Come," he whispered.
She hesitated. Glanced at Sherlock again—then down at his hand.
"Come," Mycroft repeated. "I'll take over for you in a moment."
Molly swallowed, staying still—as if an invisible cord somewhere behind her left ribs were fastened to Sherlock's—and if she made a movement to truly leave him, it would snap, and she'd start to bleed inwardly.
Mycroft waited.
Molly slowly rose up, gripping Sherlock's hand, almost wishing he would wake up so she could see those eyes again…
But he didn't. Just kept breathing. So she slowly drew her hand out of his, and clutched her own together, and stepped out of the room, past his brother.
Mycroft softly closed the door behind her, and turned to face her. Again, he looked her up and down. Then, he directed an honest, serious—somewhat weary—look at her.
"Well done."
She frowned at him, sensing something else in his tone.
"Thank you..."
"Indeed, I should be thanking you," Mycroft nodded. "You have a cool head, a quick intuition—and a very capable working knowledge of modern resuscitation techniques."
Molly stared at him. He put his hands in his pockets.
"I never left," he confessed. "I watched you, all afternoon and night. Cameras in the corners."
Her whole body turned to ice.
"What," Molly choked. "Why? Why would you do that?"
"To find out if you possess the very characteristics I just mentioned," Mycroft replied, as if that were obvious.
Molly felt like her throat was closing.
"You didn't…You didn't plan his cardiac arrest did you…You didn't—"
"Heavens, no," Mycroft said quickly. "And I had someone standing by in case you…In case you weren't up to whatever challenge you might face. But I'm happy he wasn't needed."
"Is that…Is that what you do, then?" Molly hissed. "Play games, tricks, on people?"
Mycroft scowled.
"It's not a trick," he stated. "It's a plan."
Molly eyed him sideways, feeling as if the ground was tipping.
"What kind of plan?"
Mycroft let out a sigh.
"A plan to save my brother from himself. And…" he lifted his eyebrows. "A chance for you to help the living, rather than the dead."
Molly stood silent. Mycroft went on.
"Molly Hooper, I must ask you to do something tremendous for me. A favor I do not ask lightly."
"What?" Molly asked shortly, her voice low.
"My brother gets a definite high from solving crimes," Mycroft said. "I am doing my best to steer him in that direction, and away from the addictive poisons he keeps trying to pump into his system. In that vein, I would like you to be available to him. Anything he needs, I want you to help him with it. Together, you and I can keep him on that much more constructive path, lest he kill himself with this foolishness."
"But…what could he need from me?" Molly whispered.
Mycroft shrugged.
"Access to St. Bart's laboratories, its morgue—your expertise. I would of course make certain that you come to no trouble, ever, for helping him with whatever he asks—that your job remains secure regardless of the outcomes of his cases, and that you are protected from any reprisals that may threaten from those he attempts to catch or incarcerate. You'll be granted access to all details of the cases of course, and I will give you my private number, to be called in any instance you deem necessary."
Molly was finding it hard to breathe.
"You can really do all that?"
Mycroft smiled, a little slyly.
"All that and a great deal more, Doctor Hooper."
"So…that's all you wanted, then," Molly said slowly, gauging her words. "Just…access to the lab."
"No, of course not," Mycroft scoffed. "I could have made a phone call and done that, without troubling you with any of this." He gestured to the door behind him. "What I want you to do for Sherlock is something that, despite our best efforts, my family and I have been unable to provide him with for nearly his entire life."
"What's that?" Molly asked quietly. Mycroft looked frankly at her.
"Something he won't ever find any ordinary way because he maintains the façade that he is heartless—a calculating machine. Besides which, he's generally insufferable and almost literally beats off every potential friendship with a hot poker." Mycroft paused. "He needs someone to care for him. Simple and plain, and unfortunately—utterly selfless."
Molly's heart and breath caught.
"Selfless, because he will not give you anything in return," Mycroft warned. "Not ever. But does need it. Quite desperately. And you'll have to keep reminding yourself of that, deep down inside you—and no matter what he says—if you hope to maintain your course."
"Then why…" Molly whispered unsteadily. "Why would it matter?"
"Because now he trusts you," Mycroft stated. "I doubt he'll remember many details from this little adventure—but he will remember you. Inherently. Without being able to explain it to anyone else, or even himself." Mycroft's voice lowered. "But believe me, he'll never forget it. Not as long as he lives. If ever his own life is at risk—he will instinctively look to you."
Molly took a shaking breath, her fingers trembling.
"I, erm…" she tried, ducking her head and smiling weakly. "I'm not sure what to say."
"Tell me you'll think on my little proposal," Mycroft proposed. "You have a clear, direct, uncluttered mind, Doctor Hooper. Something both Sherlock and I value, and somewhat envy, though we rarely admit it." Mycroft studied her for a moment. "But from what I've seen, I do think you'll be inclined to take me up on it. You have, according to my mother's rather sentimental definition, 'a tender heart.'"
Molly, her head still lowered, just nodded.
"One more thing, however," Mycroft took a step closer, an edge entering his voice. "You must promise me never to speak to him of yesterday or last night—not a word of what he said to you, or what you said to him."
Molly looked up at him, startled.
"Why?"
Mycroft's mouth hardened.
"It's better for some demons to remain buried. At least for a little while longer."
Molly didn't dare press him. She only nodded again.
Mycroft reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a card. He held it out to her.
"Here is my private number. Text me when you've made up your mind."
Molly stared at it, then reached out and took it from him. Then, she turned and started away down the hall.
"He does need you, Miss Hooper," Mycroft called quietly. "I would not have taken such extreme measures had I not reached the end of my resources. You are, in truth, my last hope."
Molly stopped. Stared down at the card she held in both hands. Gritted her teeth, and took a short breath. She turned around, and looked at him.
"I'll help you."
Mycroft's shoulders relaxed. And the ghost of a real smile crossed his face.
"Then put that number in your phone," he instructed. "At the top of your contact list."
Molly didn't answer. Mycroft watched her a moment longer, then turned and re-entered Sherlock's room. Molly waited until it shut, then turned back around and found her way back out the front door…
Where that same black sedan waited to take her back to St. Bart's, as if nothing had ever happened.
To be continued one more chapter…
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