A/N: Sorry it's been awhile. I've been sick so this is a slightly longer chapter.

EDIT: I changed the end of the chapter so if you've already read it, please scroll back down and read it again.

Chapter Eleven: Alone

.o.o.

.o.

With every passing week, Sherlock gained a little more weight, much to his own dismay. Nurses and doctors alike came in, checked his vitals, weighed him, and then disappeared again. By the second and a half week, the consulting detective was becoming stir crazy. The only good thing is that he had gained enough trust to be unrestrained, but only if there were someone in the same room with him at all times to make sure he didn't pull out the tubes that were forcing the nutrients in him.

He tapped incessantly on the arm of the bed, closing his eyes before he tried to go into his Mind Palace to calm himself down. He had already walked halfway through it when he heard a familiar voice.

"How are you doing today, Sherlock?"

The young man sighed and opened his eyes, giving her a weak smile. "I'd be doing a lot better if you, of all people, didn't talk to me like the nurses do, Molly. I've gained the required weight; I honestly can't understand why they insist on keeping me in this damn room."

She took his rough hand with her own and gently caressed his skin. "They just want to make sure you're keeping the weight on and not doing anything to try and lose it, that's all, Sherlock. You should be released in another day or so."

Sherlock shook his head, frustrated at her answer that gave him no relief. He absentmindedly let his thumb caress her own skin. The two stayed like this for several moments before he spoke again. "How are things going… at our place?"

It felt odd to call it their place but he knew it wasn't right to only refer to it as his own place, since Molly had moved in her things to live there with him as well. She bit her lip and nervously tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Err… good. Things are good there…"

Most men would've been ignorantly satisfied with her answer but Sherlock could sense something wasn't right. Her body had tensed up and the expression on her face looked uneasy. He straightened up in the bed and carefully looked at her. "What is it? What's wrong, Molly?"

She shook her head and sighed, trying to wave off whatever was bothering her. "N-No, it's… it's probably nothing at all. It's just me being… silly and just me overreacting, I imagine."

Sherlock searched her face and moved his hand towards her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I know how you are, Molly. You usually have a level head about things. If something is bothering you, then it affects me as well. Please tell me what's happening at home…"

She gently rubbed her face into the cusp of his hand and then placed her own hand on top of his before putting it back in her lap. "I… I was coming home to Baker Street last week, I… I could sense someone was following me. It was when I was in the cab, there was another cab following us all the way from the hospital to your flat, and after I hurried upstairs, I looked out the window and the cab was still outside the flat, looking back up at me. There was a man I didn't recognize and the cab with the man stayed outside the flat for at least half an hour before it finally left."

Sherlock tensed slightly before he took a deep breath, feeling unnerved that someone was following Molly home. He searched her face as he started to talk aloud. "Why would he follow you and then wait for half an hour? Stalkers stalk their prey until they reach their destination and then they leave but this man… this particular man decided to stalk and then wait outside. Why would he do that?" He wasn't necessarily asking her for a definite answer but he was more so trying to figure things out in his head.

She was quiet for a bit until she offered an answer. "Maybe he wasn't waiting for me? Maybe… he was waiting to see if you would be at the flat soon?"

Sherlock debated this silently, putting his hands together in a praying formation. "Perhaps… maybe… he was expecting another man to follow you inside. He might have hired someone to get answers about me from you, and the man never showed up when he was told to."

Molly's eyes looked fearful for a moment but quickly dissipated again. "What kind of answers about you? Do you know this man?"

Sherlock mentally went through the various men he considered enemies in his head.

James Moriarty. Charles Magnussen. His brother Mycroft.

And those were just the three he could come up with off the top of his head. He had no doubt that there were plenty more he didn't even know personally.

"I need to get out of this bloody hospital today. You shouldn't be alone again… I don't feel comfortable leaving you to take a cab home by yourself again, not after what you've just told me," Sherlock confided, his face filled with concern.

Molly couldn't deny that it flattered her to have Sherlock Holmes be so worried for her safety but she knew that there was no way he would be released so early. He still had two whole days to be monitored. "What if… I ask John to walk me inside and make sure I'm all right?"

Sherlock thought about this and he couldn't refute the sense that it made. John was trained in self-defence. He could protect her if need be. "Yes, I think that might actually be best. I'm sure that I'll be seeing him again so I'll broach the subject to him. Be careful… if you have to run errands outside the hospital today, Molly. Be aware of your surroundings,"

She looked uneasy but nodded, questions in her eyes that never dared to reach her lips. He could see these questions as he looked at her and felt like he already knew what they were. He sighed to himself. "I've solved many crimes, Molly Hooper. In doing so, it would've been a miracle if I did not manage to make an enemy or two in the process. They'll get to me by getting to you and depending how long they've been checking up on me, they'll also know that we're together. They'll think that by hurting you, they'll hurt me too."

She nodded in understanding and then looked down at her hands. "And… will they? Hurt you if they hurt me? Will that affect you at all, Sherlock?"

He swallowed hard, afraid to admit that she really had become his weakness. Sherlock clenched his jaw and looked out the window as the sun began to rise in the sky. "Yes, that would hurt me."

By the look on Molly's face, he could tell that this hadn't been the answer she had expected, but it appeared to please her nonetheless. "G-Good. I mean, not for you but…"

"You mean because John and so many others have called me some kind of robotic, unfeeling machine," Sherlock deduced. "I'm aware of what they've called me and the things they believe, but you know me. You know how I truly am, Molly. Don't let anyone else change your opinion of me. Promise me that."

She looked back up at him and gave him a small, warm smile. "I promise, Sherlock."

"Good," he nodded, still feeling tense but at least a little less than before. "How are you doing? I feel like we've hardly gotten the chance to talk. The doctors and nurses have had me knocked out for just about my entire stay here."

"I've been good, but… I just miss you. I feel so much stronger when I'm around you. I feel… better, somehow," Molly admitted, blushing slightly. "I just want you back in my arms again. I hate sleeping alone like I did before. I don't feel safe."

Sherlock nodded in acknowledgement, no surprised she didn't feel safe without someone else there to protect her. He was no longer a mere skeleton but he had managed to gain more weight and was nearing the safety range of around one hundred and eighty. He felt heavy in his new body but felt like maybe it would come in handy if it came down to actually protecting her from whoever was trying to hurt her.

He leaned forward and took her cheeks in both of his hands before he looked her square in her olive green eyes. "I promise that I won't let anyone hurt you, Molly Hooper. I know you're scared right now but you just need to try and be brave for a couple more days, until I can get out of here, all right?"

She bit her lip but nodded before she looked at Sherlock. "You shouldn't promise me won't let anyone hurt me. You're trapped in here and I'm out there; it's… ridiculous to promise me you can protect me when you obviously won't be able to, Sherlock. I know that you wouldn't ever promise something like that before to me, not if you weren't one hundred percent sure."

He half scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to be a better man for you and you're throwing it back in my face, unbelievable." Molly chuckled weakly before Sherlock continued. "I want to protect you and I want you to be safe, more than anything. I want you to do what you feel will make you feel the safest until I can be at the flat with you."

"What exactly are you suggesting? That I invite a male friend to stay the night?" Molly asked, almost incredulously as she tried to make sense of what he was saying.

"Not… not necessarily. I mean, if that would make you feel safe, then… I suppose you could invite them to stay the night to watch over you," Sherlock awkwardly agreed. Being new to having a girlfriend and being somewhere he couldn't protect her properly, he felt his options were annoying limited.

Molly chuckled again and smiled weakly, shaking her head. "We'll see. I'll only invite a male friend that I know you would trust. What time is it?" she asked, glancing up at the clock. "Oh crap, I need to get back to work. I'll come and visit you later, okay?"

"I'll have my phone. I know you're busy and I don't want you to get into trouble. Just message me later and let me know when you're safely at home," Sherlock laid back down, making himself comfortable again.

She nodded and then stood up before she leaned over and kissed his lips, careful not to bump the tubes that were attacked to his nose. "I… I love you, Sherlock."

"I love you too, Molly Hooper…"

She smiled brightly and then was about to attack his restraints back on when he saw John walk in. She released the leather cuffs and kissed his forehead instead before turning on her heel and finally leaving to return to her work, nodding politely to John as he entered.

Sherlock took a deep breath, already feeling mentally exhausted. He looked over at the machines that were monitoring his heart rate, almost as if he were willing a morphine machine to appear right beside him. He looked back to see John hovering over him.

"You're looking better then…"

Sherlock half shrugged. "I suppose. It's really very subjective, isn't it, John? Before, you were saying how awful I looked. What brings you here? Surely not to make obvious observations about my physical appearance…"

John shifted his body weight uneasily before he sat down, feeling a sense of déjà vu sweep over him. He had done this nearly five times a week for the past two weeks and it never got easier to see Sherlock laying helpless in the hospital bed. He was glad to see his friend gaining more mass on his body and even a little more muscle than before somehow.

"I'm… really happy to see you're getting better. You're looking a lot healthier, Sherlock. How… how are you feeling about it, gaining this weight?" John asked, curious.

Sherlock knew John's question was innocent enough but he had to force back the bitterness and resentment he still felt towards his friend for putting him in here in the first place. "I feel just about as good as I'm going to feel in here. Let's not talk about me though, John. I… I need to talk to you about something that's started happening."

John Watson sat up a bit straighter in his chair now and looked at Sherlock with genuine concern in his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Err… what is it, Sherlock?"

The detective wet his lips as he thought about how to describe the situation. "Molly Hooper informed me that a man has been following her from here to Baker Street after her shift. She told me that he stayed in the cab for nearly half an hour yesterday, as if he were waiting for another person to enter the flat with her, but that person never showed up."

John's eyes widened with interest and worry. "Who do you think is doing this? Why would they want to hurt her?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I'm not sure, John. Obviously, I can only assume it's one of the men we've stopped in the past, or have had past dealings with, and they finally know where to hit me the hardest. If they've been stalking me as long as they've been stalking Molly, then they know we're romantically involved, and therefore psychologically compromised. By hurting her, they know they can hurt me as well. It's rather clever…"

"Forget clever for a minute, Sherlock! These men, whoever they are, are trying to do… only God knows what to Molly to get to you. We have to do something to stop them," John remarked.

Sherlock shook his head. "They'll know we're onto them if we confront them. We need to at least wait until they're inside the 221B. Then we can claim self-defence. I'm still going to be stuck in here for two more days and part of a morning. You're going to have to watch over her, protect her until I'm released."

John looked uneasy but nodded without hesitation. The perfect soldier, doing his duty for man and country. So loyal. "Right, of course. So what do you want me to do, Sherlock? Take the cab to the flat and make sure she gets in okay?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, precisely that, John. I'd also advise for you check all the rooms and make sure no one's hiding behind any doors, under beds or in closets. I'd be… very… pleased if you would do that for me, watch out for her."

John gave a curt nod of acknowledgement back. "Then it's done. She's my friend too and the last thing I want is for her to get hurt either."

Sherlock nodded, realizing that John was trying to cover up the fact he actually wanted to make Sherlock happy in some way. "You're a good man, John. I knew I could count on you."

The two men sat in a semi-uncomfortable silence before John cleared his throat. "So then, only a couple more days before you're out? You must be excited."

Sherlock nodded slowly. "I am, but I'm also not, as you can imagine with our outside situation."

"Have any idea who's behind this?"

The detective shook his head. "It could be anyone. Women aren't really up Moriarty's alley so if I would have to guess, I would have to assume that it's Magnussen behind this. He's twisted enough to want to hurt women. Do you have any ideas who could be behind it?"

John shook his head and then shrugged half-heartedly. "It seems useless to even guess. Like you said, it could be anyone who wanted to hurt you. Now that they know what your weakness is, they can exploit it, right? I would say Magnussen as well, though."

Sherlock sighed, despising this feeling of helplessness. He felt the foreign and overwhelming urge to protect Molly, by any means necessary, and he literally couldn't do that for forty-two hours. It was beyond frustrating for the detective. "Does it change anything?"

John glanced up at the sudden change of topic. "I'm sorry?"

"Me gaining this weight. Does it change anything with us? With you? You moved out because of my condition before. Are you planning on moving back into the flat once I return home?"

John let out a short, nervous laugh before he scratched his forehead above his eyebrow and then looked at his friend. "I… don't think it does, no. I mean, you still have an eating disorder. You were forced to gain weight in order to be released from hospital. Just because you're about to be released doesn't change anything. You still have an eating disorder. What's to stop you from going back to your old ways and way of thinking? Anyway, I left because I didn't know how to… how to…" John trailed off before he looked away.

"Say it, John," Sherlock pushed him. "Just. Say. It."

"I didn't know how to deal with you! With your eating disorder… hell, I knew whatever I said around you wasn't going to help you! I moved out to help you, Sherlock. I moved out because I knew I wasn't going to be the right help you needed," John sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair.

Sherlock swallowed hard and tongued his cheek. "So… you're not going to move back in then?"

John stood up abruptly, nearly knocking the chair over. "Damn it, Sherlock. Of course I'm not! I'm only going over there with Molly to make sure she'll be all right and that's it. I'm going to continue to live in my current flat because… I don't know how to help you…"

"Is that what's bothering you, John? That you can't fix my problem?" Sherlock asked in disbelief.

John growled and started to pace before he turned to face his friend quickly. "Yes! That's what is bothering me! I'm a damn doctor and I don't even know how to help my best friend! I can give you all the anxiety medications and antidepressants in the world but I can't help you feel all right about your physical appearance! That's the most frustrating part for me. I wish you could see that."

Sherlock watched as John paced, unsure what he was feeling but believed that his friend's actions were unnecessary and an overreaction to his situation. "Of course you can't help me be okay about my physical appearance, John. It's all mental. It's… body dismorphia, I believe it's called. I'm seeing one thing, you're seeing another and it's all subjective. I'm not quite sure how you could help me see what you see but I don't understand why you can't move back in. I'm sure Molly would have no problem with you moving back in with us…"

John let out a huff of air before he shook his head. "I don't want to move back in because every time I would look at you, it'd just be a constant reminder to me about how I can't help you! Do you even realize how aggravating that is for me? Anyway, I realize you're new to the whole relationship game, Sherlock, but I can almost guarantee that Molly will have an issue with me moving back in."

"You still have your old room! She's all moved into mine… I still don't see why you can't move back in…"

"Because I don't want to move back in, Sherlock! Why can't you understand that? You're such a genius and yet you can be so incredibly thick at times, you know that?" John yelled at him, having lost his patience. "I can't help you and I'll just resent you for something you can't control! I don't' want to do that! I can't… it's unfair to you and Molly. I'm not moving in, and that's that," John replied in a tone that told Sherlock the conversation was clearly over.

Sherlock looked down at his lap, his lips pursed. He wanted to say so many things but he didn't want to upset John further, or worse, make him back out of his promise to watch over Molly. He was only as silent as his tongue would let him before he couldn't be quiet anymore.

"I really do appreciate you agreeing to look after Molly. I know you'll protect her if it comes down to it," he said in a low but confident voice.

John, seeming to have calmed down some simply nodded. "Of course. Well, I should be getting back to the Clinic. I'll let you know if our mystery man shows up again." He walked out of the room, leaving Sherlock to his own thoughts again.

.o.o.

.o.

Molly tucked a long lock of her hair behind her ear after she closed her locker door and grabbed her purse. She was the only one in the darkened locker room but she was so used to it that it no longer bothered her. She wasn't afraid of what was lurking in the women's changing rooms in the hospital but feared more what could be waiting in 221B.

She headed out of the room, shutting everything off before she made her way downstairs towards the lobby where John had told her to meet him during their lunch break. Molly waited patiently for him as he shut his Clinic light off and walked over to him. His eyes looked tiredly at her but he somehow faked a smile.

"Ready, then?"

She smiled back weakly before nodding. "Yup."

John hailed a cab and let her slide in first before sitting beside her and telling the cabbie where to go. As they rode on in silence, John watched as the raindrops started to hit the windows of the cab harder and harder until they were in a downpour. Once they were about five minutes away from Baker Street, he cleared his throat.

"How well do you think you know Sherlock, Mary? I mean, really know him. I lived with the man for nearly four years and had no idea about his eating disorder until he started having panic attacks and started fainting from malnutrition in front of me," John scratched his chin thoughtfully.

Mary swallowed hard and sighed. "I know him well enough, John. Possibly even better than you know him. I've known him for nearly seven years. He told me about his eating disorder when we started going out -"

"Oh, but you had no idea about it until recently? Wow, for someone who knew him longer than I have, I would've thought that you would know him better than I did," John shook his head almost in disappointment. "I'm surprised, really. Do you know about his amphetamine and morphine addictions? How long did that take for him to tell you about those things?"

Molly could tell that there was a cold tension in the back of the cab between the two of them now and she also became tense. She glanced out the window at the rain. "I did know about his addictions. I sort of had a feeling about them earlier on but... when they pumped his stomach and everything, it just verified what I had guessed all along."

John nodded and then looked over at Molly expectantly. "What about Redbeard?" When he saw her look at him with a confused expression, he smiled almost sickly. "Oh, you don't know about Redbeard? Hm... that's interesting. I would've thought he told you about that for sure. I wonder... how much do you really know about Sherlock? You moved into the flat awfully fast."

Molly felt her chest tighten with anxiety and uneasiness. She bit her lip and looked down at her hands. "I... I know enough about Sherlock... why are you doing this, John? Are you jealous? Is that it?"

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Nope, not jealous. I'm only worried for you, Molly. He's hurt you in the past and I'm just concerned for -"

She looked at him with anger in her eyes. "For my feelings? You barely know me; we hardly ever talk. When have you ever been concerned for my feelings? I talk to Sherlock more than I talk to you. Why are you trying to tear us apart?"

"I'm not trying to tear you two apart... I just want you to be aware of what you're getting into with him, Molly. Don't forget that he's Sherlock Holmes. He's not everyone's favorite person, if you haven't guessed already. He's cold, mechanical and -"

Molly shook her head, feeling disgusted with John right now but unable to help the fearful tears that were starting to form in her eyes. She noticed for the first time that the cab was stopped in a traffic jam as the rain soaked everyone walking outside. She opened the door and then got out, carefully walking across the street towards the sidewalks. She started to hurriedly walk towards 221B in the rain, apathetic to the rain that was soaking her hair and clothes.

She heard John calling out to her before finally running to follow her towards the front door. John grabbed her arm forcefully and then turned her to face him, searching her face. "There's some... madman following you and you think it's a brilliant idea to just get out of a cab, make a scene and walk over here? I don't think you were made for Sherlock at all. I'm quite disappointed with his choice of girlfriend, honestly; I would've thought he could pick a brighter one..."

Molly felt hot tears mixing with the rain on her face as she slapped him now. "Just shut up, John! What do you want me to say? That I don't know him better than you? That I'll move out so you can move back in with him? Well, I'm sorry but I'm not saying either of those things! I still believe I know him better than you do, and I'm sorry that you can't be happy for us. Now let me go!"

She ripped her arm out of his grip and opened the door quickly before hurrying inside and then closing it behind her. Molly let out a sob suddenly but then took a deep breath and ran up the stairs to Sherlock's flat and locked the door behind her, just to feel safe. Once she was inside, she slide down against the wall to the floor and then started to cry in her hands, her body shaking.

Everything was all wrong and Sherlock wasn't even here to keep things straight and rational. Even though he was mechanical sometimes, that was one of the things that she really did love about him. When he could tell her facts, constant statistics or trivia, it gave her a sense of calm too. It felt like other things were building up upon her shoulders; Redbeard and the possible things she didn't know about Sherlock, the man who kept following her, and the fact that she hadn't eaten in almost five days and the dizziness and lightheaded feeling that came from it. It felt like it was all too much for her to handle by herself. She wanted Sherlock to be back to hold her again in his arms, and tell her it would be okay.

However, for two more days, she would have to deal with it herself. Molly sobbed into her hands for almost half an hour before she stood up finally and made her way towards the bathroom. She stopped in front of the open room, debating. She felt her stomach sink and an urge threatening to take over. No, she couldn't do that. Not when Sherlock would be coming home so soon. She forced herself to step away from the bathroom and then walked into his bedroom and closed the door unnecessarily. She fell into his bed and hugged Sherlock's pillow close to her, breathing in the smell of man musk and an oaky pine smell. She closed her eyes as more tears fell down her face and imagined that the man she loved was lying beside her, asleep.

She imagined she wasn't alone anymore.