A/N: HOLA! Okay, so there were maaaaaaaaaaaaany reviews today and I just wanted to say thanks to each one of you. You're all brilliant and I thank you.
This chapter jumps forwards a month in time, and I know the news that Molly receives will seem sudden and out of left field, but honestly, this type of news is like that in real life too. Also, I truly believe it would take something like this to kick Sherlock forwards into going to get her back. :)
Disclaimer: You know the drill, now get to reading!
A month later Molly was sleeping soundly when she was awoken by the shrill ring of her mobile at three in the morning. She groaned and rolled on her back, reaching haphazardly over and gripping the vibrating phone, looking at the number she realised it was international and clicked answer.
"Hello?" she murmured, sleep still heavily hanging on her words.
"Oh, I'm sorry it's sounds as if I woke you up," an American woman's voice came through the line, "Is this Mary Hooper?"
She sniffed, "Mary's my mother, call me Molly,"
"Right," the woman paused, "Molly, I'm calling from California,"
"Uh-huh, can I help you with something?" Molly pulled herself into a sitting position and laid a hand ontop of her slightly rounded stomach.
"You see, Ms. Hooper, I'm from Cedars-Sinai Hospital in Los Angeles," she said, "and I have some news for you,"
Molly was pretty sure she misheard her, "I'm sorry, you're from where?"
"I'm a doctor, Molly," she cleared her throat, "three days ago your mother and step father were brought into the E.R., they were in a car accident. Sadly their injuries were too severe and they didn't make it. We've been searching for a contact number for days, I finally found you and I wanted to call, your mother's body is being sent back to England as we speak,"
She laughed, "I think you've got the wrong number," her mother wasn't dead, she was sitting in her flat in L.A., perfectly fine.
"Ms. Hooper, I understand that this comes as a shock, especially because it took us so long to get in contact, but I assure you, it's no mistake. Your mother was killed in a car accident. Her body is being sent to the specified mortuary in England, I would suggest that you think about organizing her funeral as soon as you can," the doctor's voice overly apologetic.
Molly stilled, the reality beginning to creep in, she clicked on her bedside light, "I'm sorry, you're telling me my mum is dead?"
"Yes, Ms. Hooper, I'm sorry I woke you with the news but I thought you'd want to know," the doctor murmured.
"W-When will she get to England?" Molly found herself ask.
"The day after tomorrow I would guess," she answered, "the motuary is supposed to call you as soon as she arrives so you can arrange the funeral and things,"
"Thank you," she replied automatically, "I should... I should go,"
"I'm so sorry for your loss," the doctor said.
"Yeah," Molly clicked the phone off and sat amongst her bedsheets for a moment. She sat forward, her legs crossed Indian style and her hands rested on her concave stomach.
She retched over the side of the bed onto the wood floor.
Tears came then, rushing down her cheeks as she sobbed and pulled herself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. She spit into the sink and sucked in a breath, her mouth tasting stale and bitter.
She pulled out the necessary cleaning supplies and found herself on her hands and knees cleaning up her own sick, her head pounding from the crying and her back aching from the position on the floor. As she sopped up the last of it and threw it in a bucket she sat back on her heels and pressed the backs of her hands to her lips, shuddering breaths in and out.
Why hadn't she been called sooner? Why hadn't she known? Felt it somehow...
Molly sat back against the nearby wall and dropped her hands to cup her rounded stomach, choking sobs bubbling through her throat until no more would come and she finally sat exhausted from crying, mind blank, body numb.
It was seven in the morning when her eyes opened and she realized that she had fallen into an uncomfortable sleep up against the wall. Somehow she wished it was just a nightmare but there in front of her was a bucket and washtowels and her tongue still had the stale quality of a post-vomit mouth.
A funeral. She had to plan a funeral. A strange thing since her mother had been living in California for years, her friends were there - she had almost no one to speak of in England except for Molly. She was honestly a little surprised that she even wanted to be buried here. Molly struggled with the idea of hosting a memorial service that no one would come to, she could picture it perfectly: standing in front of a church of two in the black dress she had worn to Sherlock's funeral and giving an awkward but heartfelt eulogy that no one would care about. There was no way she would be subjecting herself to that. Plus there was no way she could still fit into that dress. Deciding immediately against it she decided that a simple burial and grave-side prayer would suffice. Her mother would understand, after all, Molly was not made of money and it's not as if her mother would have much to leave her.
She had a friend who worked at a funeral home that she had gone to university with, she might be able to help her with the necessary particulars of putting together a funeral. Molly knew absolutely nothing about planning a burial other than what she had seen in films and all of those were non specific.
She grappled for her phone and collapsed back into the position she held on the ground and scanned through her contacts. Locating the woman's name on her phone she pressed the green button and waited.
"Hello?" A cheery voice came through the reciever, Claire always was a morning person.
"Hey, Claire it's Molly, Molly Hooper," she tried to sound cheerful too but it sounded awkward, "I know we haven't spoken in a really long time but I have a bit of a favour to ask,"
"Molly! It's been so long!" she exclaimed, "What do you need?"
"You see," Molly started, "My mum, she was living in America and got in an accident, they're sending her... her um, body back to England now, and I have to plan a burial... I don't know the first thing, and you- I mean, I,"
"Oh God, Molly," she murmured, "I'm so sorry, of course I can help. Are you well enough to meet for lunch? I could try and help you organize everything then if you want, I'm so sorry,"
Molly let out a long breath, "Thank you so much, I didn't know who else could help, I would love to meet,"
"Do you remember the old cafe we used to go to at uni?" she asked
"Of course I do," Molly smiled faintly at the memories.
"Around eleven? We'll get everything sorted then, don't worry at all," Claire murmured.
"Okay," Molly took in a shaky breath, "Thank you so much,"
"Of course, of course," Claire's voice had softenend considerably and had now taken on a pitying tone, "we'll take care of everything. I'll see you at eleven,"
"Okay, eleven," Molly repeated blankly, "I'll see you,"
The phone disconnected and Molly looked down at her stomach, she hadn't even had the chance to tell her mum she was pregnant. She would have loved to be a gran, might have even come home to see the baby. Molly closed her eyes and felt tears prickling at them once again.
Sherlock's health had improved considerably over the past month and Lestrade had even come by and asked for a few pointers on a case or two. Lestrade pretended to be completely dumbfounded but he and John both knew they were keeping Sherlock sane as he tried to continue his month of sobriety.
This morning Sherlock and John were each on their laptops, immersed in blogging and research respectively when the John's mobile rang.
"It's Molly," he cleared his throat and clicked on the call, "Hello?"
Sherlock looked up from his typing and studied his friend as he spoke.
"John," Molly began, "I, um, I've got some... news, I don't," Molly sounded lost to John as he listened.
"What's going on?" John leaned forward and Sherlock was suddenly at attention.
"My mum, she's passed," Molly couldn't quite palate the word died yet, "I've organized a sort of... burial the day after tomorrow - my friend helped me organize everything and my mother's body is already back from the states, I just... I just wanted to ask if you would be there. I need someone familiar, I can't,"
"Molly, it's alright," John murmured, "I'm so sorry about your mum," he glanced up at Sherlock who relaxed considerably when he leanred it was not any of the 300 scenarios that had flicked through his head a moment ago
John continued, "Of course I'll go,"
"Thank you so much," Molly was getting tired of saying this phrase already, "it's at three o'clock," she finished giving him the location and plot number.
"Okay," John hummed.
There was a pause and then Molly found the strength to ask, "How is Sherlock?"
John looked up at Sherlock, "He's good, Molly, really good."
"Well that's good," Molly gave an awkward laugh, "one piece of good news I can hang onto,"
"Yes you can," John sighed, "Do you need anything now Molly? I can come over, I could bring you something,"
"No, I just need to be alone for a while I think," Molly replied automatically, "As long as you're there for the funeral. I don't want to push Sherlock, so be careful what you tell him. I don't want him to do anything if he's not ready,"
"I understand," John murmured, "I'll handle it,"
"Ta," he could hear her shifting, "I'll just..."
"Molly, how are you and the baby holding up?" John asked, knowing full well that Sherlock would be interested.
"We're just fine," Molly assured, "I'm trying to keep myself relaxed, keep the stress off, but we're alright,"
"Okay, good," John was toeing the line between friend and doctor, "If you need anything at all, even if you need a chat, you call me alright?"
"Course," she sighed, "Thank you,"
"I'll see you Saturday," he murmured.
"Okay," there was a pause and she finally murmured, "Bye then,"
"Bye,"
When the phones disconnected John rubbed a hand across her face, "Jesus she's been through too much,"
"She's fine though, yes?" Sherlock's foot was tapping wildly, a new tick since his recent bout of drug addicition.
"Physically, yes," John sighed, "she and the baby are healthy. But emotionally, I mean, I don't know the relationship she had with her mum but she sounded pretty disconnected,"
Sherlock gave a nod, "Her mother lived in California, they spoke on the phone frequently,"
"I see," John nodded, "she wanted me to go to the funeral,"
There was a beat and then Sherlock looked up at John, "I would like to go,"
"Do you feel ready enough?" John asked.
"I felt ready two weeks ago," Sherlock leaned back, "I waited because you asked me to, because you said Molly was delicate. I've been working cases, I've been getting back to normal," he paused, "She needs me now,"
John nodded, "Okay,"
"Okay?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
"Yea, okay," John replied, "she does need you, and prolonging this is only going to be harder for her, for both of you. Plus, you're driving me insane shut up in here all the time,"
"Well perhaps if you weren't quite so boring off cases," Sherlock scoffed.
"Boring?" John rolled his eyes, "please,"
Sherlock smiled faintly and pressed his palms together, resting his fingers against his lips as he thought. He was ready to see her, absolutely.
On the afternoon of the funeral John and Sherlock were stuck in traffic en route to the burial site. Sherlock was obviously irritable at the prospect of seeing Molly again and John was attempting to keep him under control. As they arrived at the same cemetary where Sherlock's empty coffin had once been buried they climbed out of the cab and started towards the correct plot.
"Be delicate," John reminded him.
"John," Sherlock huffed, "I can handle this,"
John said nothing further, but decided to stay close in case of emergencies or accidents. Their pace slowed for a moment as they saw Molly some distance away, her back to them as she looked into a deep cut grave. Sherlock swallowed and began to forge ahead, his steps silent as he started to close the distance between them.
John lagged behind to watch, silently preside over their reunion.
Molly was having trouble crying at the grave, all she could think about was how tired her body was and how much she wanted to take off these shoes and curl up in bed for a year. She heard footsteps behind her but she was too tired to turn around, John was late but at least he had come. She had thought that the burial would have been more difficult for her than it was.
A warm, familiar hand slipped into hers and she stiffened. Her mouth was suddenly dry as she turned her head and looked up, taking in the sight ofthe familar coat and scarf until she studied his face. His face had regained it's proper color and his eyes were perfectly clear and crystalline. He was truly better, he was truly here.
She gave him a small smile and a nodded as tears pricked her eyes.
He didn't say anything but instead gave her hand a comforting squeeze and smiled gently. He reached down and took a handful of dirt from the pile and held it out to her, she took it gingerly and stared into it for a moment before reaching her hand out over the grave and watching the dirt fall from her fingers, "Goodbye Mum,"
She turned towards him and he studied her protruding stomach, a smile playing on his lips despite the circumstances. He reached out slowly and Molly watched as he placed his hand on the side of her stomach, his fingers warm and comforting. She couldn't fight the urge any longer and she smiled up at him, her own hand laying over his own, "Hello stranger,"
"Molly," he murmured. God how she had missed his voice.
"I'm so glad you're here," she let out a shuddering breath and leaned into his chest abruptly. She breathed in his scent deeply and a small tearless sob escaped her throat.
Sherlock's arms enfolded her, one hand stroking her hair and the other strongly wrapped around her back. He kissed her hair and leaned his cheek against her head, "I've missed you Molly," he confessed, "I am so sorry,"
"You didn't kill her," Molly mumbled through his scarf that her face was now buried in.
"No, not for that," he sighed, "for everything else, I was foolish. I should have never let you leave that day,"
She nodded against him, "That's right, you're an absolute idiot,"
"I am," he admitted, "in some things,"
She chuckled against him and gripped him tighter, "Can you take me home, Sherlock? I can't be here any longer,"
"Of course," his hand stroked her hair, "Which home?"
"Baker Street," she leaned away to catch his eyes, their arms still holding each other, "I've missed it so much there,"
"Okay," he kissed her forehead, "let's go home,"
Molly turned to look at her mother's grave for a moment and wiped away a tear, "I already miss you, Mum." she murmured and then added, "You would have so liked him, too, I know it,"
Sherlock gave her hand a squeeze and she turned back to him, "Thank you for coming,"
"I wouldn't have been anywhere else," he said matter-of-factly
"Even if there had been a case?" she smiled somewhat playfully and sniffed.
"Yes even then," he answered honestly and she couldn't quite believe his answer.
She pulled him close then and kissed him softly, at first it was tentative and questioning, but he responded quickly, his hands cupping her face as she stood up on tip toe and he bent forwards. Her hands rested on his arms gingerly as he kissed her more deeply, bringing back the memories of their first hungry kiss and she was beginning to realize just how much she did miss him. He was having the same thoughts himself.
When they broke apart they were both smiling stupidly and Molly took his hand firmly in hers, "I believe you said something about home?"
"I did," he threaded his fingers through hers and nodded, "let's go,"
Hand in hand they left the grave behind them and started in the direction of Baker Street, neither of them were quite ready for the conversations that would inevitably need to be held. For now they were perfectly comfortable giving each other a little bit of comfort in the simple act of holding hands.
A/N: Even though it was a bit of a heavy chapter it was fairly short, for which I'm sorry. I just thought the ending suited it and I didn't want to keep going this evening. Tomorrow or Monday I'll probably begin the "conversations" chapter in which they make some serious decisions. But for now, let's leave them content with holding hands.
Review please! I hope you all liked it and don't think it's *too* much drama for one fic. I'm trying to keep it under control but my imagination is going a bit rampant.
-x
