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Small Steps

Chapter 10

As Sherlock watched Lestrade walk away he considered what he had said. Sherlock knew he would have to face John at some point, but he kept shoving the thought to the back of his mind, locking it away in his mind palace. He missed his friend, more than he would have imagined. Sherlock had never had a friend like John before, the way John had automatically excepted all his flaws and irritating habits had bemused Sherlock originally. In the same way Molly's acceptance had.

Molly's voice brought Sherlock from his reverie. "Shall we go back then?" She asked.

"You two can, I need to do something first." He said, swiftly turning on his heel and striding in the other direction, not leaving Molly a chance to stop him.

After turning the corner he hailed a cab. While on the long journey across London he immersed himself within his mind palace, filing through everything he knew about one Dr John Watson. John was loyal, trusting and friendly, he could hold his own against most people, and he wasn't stupid, irrational or quick to judge. He was pretty much the ideal person for a woman to bring back to meet her parents, Sherlock concluded, apart from his fondness for trouble and his experience with guns.

As he approached his destination he resolved to tell John everything the next day, hopefully Molly would help once again. Sherlock had been on the receiving end of John's fist before and it definitely wasn't pleasant.

Sherlock left the cab after paying the driver, tipping generously as always. Carefully keeping his head down, he crossed the street and ducked into an alley. Quickly he pulled a small pad of paper from the pockets of his jeans, the pockets were nowhere near as deep as the ones in his coat had been, but he had still managed to fill them with the essentials he had procured from Molly's flat.

Hastily he scrawled a quick note, 'Is the doctor home?', wrapped it in a crisp twenty and passed it to the homeless man sat where the alley met the main street. Sherlock then leaned against the wall and pretended to flick through the music on an iPod he had retrieved from his jeans. While 'choosing a song' he watched the man cautiously unfold the note, glance towards the building opposite and then incline his head slightly.

Having the information he needed Sherlock stood up straight and crossed the road again. As he walked along the pavement he snuck a glance towards the familiar black door, the homeless man was correct, John was home, but only briefly it appeared, the door to 221B was slightly open. It was obvious from the state of the hall that Mrs Hudson was away, a two week holiday in Bordeaux, and it was clear, form John's smart but flustered appearance, that he was going on a date; the first since Sherlock had 'died'.

On seeing his former roommate leaving the flat Sherlock ducked his head and sped up significantly, now wasn't the time for them to reconcile. As he had deduced John did not follow him, instead heading the other way down the street towards the Thai restaurant.

Sherlock continued a bit further and then flagged down another cab. The second he was seated he returned to his mind palace, mentally subduing the feelings that had arisen from seeing John again.

Sherlock could not deal with feelings, he was renowned for his cold, unfeeling persona. Everyone knew Sherlock only 'helped' people to escape the tedium of everyday life. He had no desire to make them feel better, only solve the case; people's feeling need not come into things.

It was then, mere minutes from Molly's flat that Sherlock realised; if everything went well with John tomorrow this would be the last night he spend at Molly's. Life at Molly's had never been dull, not while she and Ben were around. Sherlock was used to the constant activity now, had grown accustomed to being left to look after Ben for short periods of time. It had only taken a few of these instances for Sherlock to decide he enjoyed the toddler's company, Ben was always interested in Sherlock and had often distracted Sherlock from the monotony of continuously researching Moriarty's network.

Sherlock got out of the taxi and let himself into Molly's flat using the spare key he had borrowed indefinitely.

Expecting to immediately hear Molly and Ben, Sherlock was slightly shocked when only silence greeted him as he stepped over the threshold. He quickly spotted the note left on the kitchen counter.

Sherlock,

I've been called into work.

I'll drop Ben at Vicky's on the way.

Shouldn't be back too late, 10ish probably.

Molly

x

This was only the second time, since he had moved in, that Molly had been suddenly called into work, the last time had been to sort out a mess one of the junior pathologists had made. It didn't matter to him, he settled himself on the lumpy sofa and resumed planning what to say to John the next day.

A few hours later Sherlock was abruptly disrupted by a knock at the door, he stood to answer it, carefully straightening his hoody. Opening the door he found Lestrade just outside, a concerned look on his face. Sherlock had seen him use that look before, the inspector used it to deliver bad news. Lestrade did not seem surprised to see Sherlock, so the news was intended for him, it could only mean one thing Sherlock decided; either John or Molly was hurt. Sherlock felt his breathing quicken involuntarily, he was nervous.

Lestrade took a deep breath before speaking. "Molly's been mugged." Seeing a look of anger flash across Sherlock's face he quickly continued. "It's bad, but she'll live. She was sedated when I left, she had a bad concussion. They were about to send her for scans."

Sherlock ran the facts through his mind again, she must have been between St Bart's and Vicky's, on her way to pick up Ben, as Lestrade hadn't mentioned the child. Even though Lestrade had said she would be okay Sherlock felt a desperate need to see her for himself. Then a terrible thought ran through his mind.

"She was just mugged? They didn't do anything else…" He asked Lestrade.

"It appears to just be a violent theft." He replied. "There are no signs of sexual assault, she's already been checked." He paused watching the detective breathe a sigh of relief. "Sherlock, do you know where her son is? I assumed he would be here with you."

"He's at the child-minder's." Sherlock stated quickly. "Can I see Molly?"

"I suppose." Lestrade hesitated. "It's only meant to be family, but I can't find a number for her parents."

"They don't get on." Sherlock said. "They didn't approve of Ben being born without Molly being married, but then how she could have married his father when he was dead." Sherlock trailed off, unimportant facts streaming through his brain as he worried about Molly.

"I've got the car outside. Do you want a lift?" Lestrade asked, expecting Sherlock to decline as he always used to.

"Yes, it will be quickest."

Slightly surprised, but taking it in his stride, Lestrade motioned for Sherlock to follow him and started down the stairs. Sherlock hastily locked the door and trailed after the inspector.

It did not take long for the pair of them to reach St Bart's, stepping out of the police car Sherlock immediately proceeded into the hospital, heading straight for the intensive care unit. From the injuries Lestrade had described that was the only place she could be. He could distantly hear Lestrade hurrying to keep up with his long strides, but paid him no attention, only focussing on seeing Molly, making sure she would recover.

However as he was about to enter the ICU Lestrade grabbed his arm, stopping him swiftly. "Sherlock you can't just march in there. No-one bar Molly and I know you are alive." Lestrade said in a low voice, attempting not to draw awareness to them.

"I don't care…" Sherlock started to respond.

But Lestrade cut him off. "Also, she is not stable yet, they won't allow visitors. Any visitors." He reiterated. "I can check with a doctor, get an update, but you won't be allowed in." Lestrade had to admit he was shocked by the strength of Sherlock's reaction, he had assumed that Sherlock was using Molly, that he didn't care about her or her son. However it appeared that Molly had broken through Sherlock's shell.

Eventually Sherlock accepted what Lestrade said and sank into one of the hard, plastic chairs that lined the corridor they were in. He still felt terrible, like something was eating at his insides. Resigning himself to wait, he started sifting through his memories, trying to find something he could have done differently, something that would have prevented Molly getting attacked. Maybe if he hadn't gone to Baker Street…

The doctor's arrival cut this process short; he quickly explained to Lestrade that Dr Hooper would need surgery as the scans had shown some internal bleeding. She would be in hospital for around two weeks, he said.

After the doctor left, Lestrade turned to Sherlock. "Her son will have to go in to foster care, while she's here, if her parents won't look after him."

The image of Ben alone with strangers flashed in Sherlock's mind. "I'll look after him." Sherlock said quickly. "He knows me, and Molly won't mind. I can look after him at her flat while she's here."

Lestrade was again surprised; Sherlock Holmes was offering to help someone. "You can't Sherlock, you are not a blood relative, so Social Services won't allow it."

Sherlock considered this momentarily, there was no way he would leave Ben to go and live with strangers. "I'm sure I can get an exception." He said. "May I borrow your phone?"

Lestrade agreed and handed Sherlock his mobile, Sherlock turned slightly and punched in a number he had previously sworn never to ring. For the second time that day he found himself needing to ask for help.

After what felt like an age, the call was finally answered.

"Mycroft." Sherlock said reluctantly. "I need your help."