Burning Hearts

Chapter Four

"But Sherlock is dead"

Molly took a deep breath to steady her and calm her nerves, closed her eyes, and squeezed John's hands softly. "Get Mycroft in here"

"Sherlock is dead" Lestrade repeated, stronger than he had the first time. Molly dared not look at John. In all the ways that she had pictured John finding out that his best friend was still alive, this was not one of them. In her mind it had been a charming reunion between the two men, not what she knew she was about to do.

"Get Mycroft in here"

Lestrade didn't take well to being given orders. Usually he was the one doing the ordering, but there was something in Molly's tone that made him think that she could be deadly if he did not do as she commanded.

As he dialled the number, he briefly wondered why he hadn't thought of calling Mycroft in himself. Mycroft was the most powerful man he knew. That fact, combined with the knowledge that he loved poor Henry so intensely meant that he was probably a powerful ally. Not that it would really help in their situation. A mad man wanted Sherlock. Dead, buried and in the ground Sherlock.

The next fifteen minutes were awkward, no one said anything. After Greg had hung up from Mycroft, Molly had nodded, mainly to herself. She was taking time to convince herself that what she was about to do was her only avenue. That there was no other way to get around this. Jim wanted Sherlock in exchange for Henry. Molly would do all she could to give Jim what he wanted.

She wondered if that made her a bad person. Sherlock, the man she had protected, the father of her son, the man that she loved with all of herself even to this very day, and she was going to put him in danger by bringing him back to the country and forcing him into a confrontation. She justified it to herself simply: Sherlock was a grown man who would probably enjoy the challenge. Henry was just a child. He was helpless.

Either way, she was working hard not to look at John.

John sat in awe of his friend, unsure of how to best support her. He had no idea what it was like to lose a son, the type of hysteria that could take over your life, but he was in the situation that he was missing a god-son. He had no idea what Molly was going through, where she was getting all this strength from. This was a woman who had once called her in tears because Toby had gotten out (granted, she had been pregnant with Henry at the time and more than likely hormonal). John felt so helpless. There was nothing he could do. Not since that day in front of St. Bart's had he felt so small and useless. Nothing anyone could do. They would have to fight with Moriarty themselves, because Sherlock was gone.

It was a surprise to all when less than twenty minutes later Mycroft Holmes entered the child care centre, his umbrella slung over his hand as always. He looked disgruntled, like he had more important things to be doing with his afternoon.

"What is this emergency, Dr Hooper?"

Molly glanced at Greg. Hadn't he informed Mycroft. Thinking back over the conversation she had heard, she realised that Greg had only referred to it as an emergency. For Mycroft to come when he didn't even know the details spoke volumes to her, and Molly found herself thankful that her son had such an attentive uncle. She had made the right decision calling him in after all.

Molly stood, her height still shorter then Mycroft, but not by enough to make her look weak. "Moriarty has Henry"

Mycroft recoiled as though he had been slapped. Three simple words out of Molly's mouth, and it felt like his world was crashing down around him. "What does he want? Any price, I will pay it to get my nephew back."

"Sherlock" was all she said. This time Mycroft took an actual step away from the woman.

"Sherlock" he repeated, bewildered. "He wants Sherlock?"

"it's Moriarty" Molly replied clearly. "Of course he wants Sherlock"

John and Greg looked at each other through the exchange, unsure of what to say or even what to think. John felt as though he was going mad. Saying Moriarty wanted Sherlock was all well and good, but unless their plan was to lead the consulting criminal to his grave, there was nothing that could be done. It seemed like he was the only one who remembered that.

Mycroft shifted his umbrella and cleared his throat nervously. "Impossible"

It was obvious that Molly and Mycroft had forgotten that Greg and John were even in the room. They spoke to each other in something akin to a code, because they understood the conversation but the others didn't. Greg was following as closely as he could, but still coming up blank.

"Not impossible, this is my son"

Mycroft straightened. "And my nephew"

Molly laughed bitterly "I win. Get him here, Mycroft"

It was as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. That was the first time in almost two years that either Molly or Mycroft had made reference to each other the secret they were holding for Sherlock.

"Impossible" Mycroft repeated. But this time, he added something that made John cry out in agony. "He's deep undercover. He can't leave the case now"

At his cry, Molly looked over her shoulder. The doctor had buried his head in his hands and was rocking gently. No, this definitely was not how she had pictured her friend finding out.

"My son, his son, is in danger." Molly began, turning back to Mycroft. "He may pretend to be a heartless bastard, but you know as well as I do that this is exactly the type of thing he would come back for. Get him here now!"

"Molly" Mycroft began.

And that's when Molly snapped. She had been calm all day. Calmer than anyone else in her situation would have been. It seemed no one was listening to her. A dangerous, callous, criminal had Henry. Why was Mycroft not co-operating? She straightened, glared at him and whispered. "Do not patronise me, Mycroft Mackenzie Holmes. Get. Sherlock. Here. NOW!'

Ignoring the shocked faces of the other two inhabitants of the room, Mycroft rubbed his hand across his face. "He is in Australia. It will take at least 24 hours…"

"Then call him now. By this time tomorrow, I expect him on my doorstep."

"Molly" Mycroft began a hint of warning in his tone. He was unsure of what he was warning her against, but the tone was there, regardless.

"he's off fighting the network" Molly began, explaining it to Mycroft as though she was explaining the facts to a little kid. Part of her wanted to smirk. She was about to explain it to Mycroft the same way Sherlock had taken explaining things to Anderson. "But does he even know the head is still alive. Call him, right now. Moriarty is still alive. That is far more important than him tracking down the henchmen"

Mycroft sighed and pulled his phone from his pocket. Molly, knowing she had won, then turned away from the man who was the government. That was when her eyes locked on John's.

His hands where not on his face anymore. They were under his thighs. He was leaning forward, staring intently at the ground. He looked like a child who had been told off for doing the wrong thing. He was pale and he looked like he was going to be sick.

Molly sat beside him and placed a hand tentatively on his back. "Sherlock is... still? How?"

John stood, shrugging off Molly and began pacing the track that only a half hour before had been occupied by Greg. Lestrade himself was leaning, shocked, against the desk in the office. Sherlock was alive. None of this was making any sense.

"Why?" was all John said.

"For your safety" even the noblest excuse seemed ridiculously feeble coming out of her mouth at that moment. "Both of yours. And Mrs Hudson's."

"You knew? You knew he was alive" John asked. "how long have you known?"

Dropping her gaze, she whispered "I helped him"

She had always though her actions that day had been in the best interest of everyone. Helping him fake his death, protecting the friends she held dear. The look that john shot her, however, made her second guess that.

John stood, wanting nothing more than to storm out of the small office. Sherlock was still alive. He was filled with rage. Molly had known all along. She had let him go through all that mourning, all of that depression, for nothing. All that time, Sherlock had been alive on the other side of the world?

But he couldn't. He had to focus on the bigger picture. Being angry at her for Sherlock's mistake would not get Henry back. Henry was priority number one. If Molly had kept it all a secret, there was obviously a reason. A bullshit reason, he decided immediately, but a reason all the same.

Besides, he was sure he would see Sherlock again very soon, and suddenly his fist was positively itching to punch his friend.

He paused and looked at Molly, a look that clearly said 'this discussion is not over.'

"I suggest you all go home and get some sleep" Mycroft said as he re-entered the small office. In all of the emotional upheaval, they had not really realised that he had left. "My brother is on his way home"

A/N: I just want to put forward an apology. I am not in love with this chapter. I can't describe what I am feeling at writers block, as I know exactly where I want this story to go, but at the same time, this chapter just didn't flow. Sorry.