MOLLY

I miss my home. I miss my job. I miss my cat, Tobi. I miss my friends, I miss Sherlock, I miss my old life. Everything is so different now. I have a new cat though, a kitten. I found her abandoned in a damp, cardboard box. I have named her hope. I share my small home with her, Sally Donavan and Mrs Hudson. I'm not sure how we all ended up together, I suspect a certain Holmes brother might have had something to do with it though. It's too much of a coincidence anyway.

I'm still a mortician, but my job is now a despised one. Not that it was all that popular before. But now people spit on me, they throw insults in our direction and sneer. They believe we are tainted and carry bad luck because we work with the dead and the Undertakers. Perhaps they think we carry the zombie curse within us. I think they are well meaning but ignorant idiots.

I have changed a lot since the war. I am still shy sometimes but I think my confidence has grown. I no longer wear pretty clothes or glittery dresses to try an impress detectives. I dress simply and sensibly. My job is dangerous so my clothing must reflect that. Even our lab coats have changed. They are now black. All our clothing is because there is often so much blood and dirt. When I'm not working with the dead in the compound, I have to work with them in the open. Collecting bodies from the outside. So much of my clothing is military. I wear a pale red shirt beneath it though and tie my hair back in a ponytail with a red scrunch It has cherries on it. I'm still Molly Hooper after all. My former clothing may have been unsuitable, and I am no longer a girl. But there's still a need for colour in this world.


Mrs Hudson always cheers me up when I come home after a hard days work. She'll make me something delicious with the rations we have and although the tea is disgusting here, its still tea. There is always a cup waiting for me. She listens to all my complaints and problems. All my fears and hopes, with good humour. She's everyone's mum. But deep down you can tell she's crying. She's lost friends and relatives. Even a son. She misses Sherlock so much it hurts. She blames herself for him not being here. But it's not her fault. No one knows what happened to him.

I hope that he's still alive somewhere and safe. People tell me I am naive for thinking this way, that he's dead and to just move on. But hope is important. It means we haven't given up.

I will not give up hope.


LESTRADE

I decided to walk Sally home during her lunch break. Bloody wish I had an umbrella. When it rains here it gets muddy and soon you are knee deep in water. Today wasn't so bad, it's only up to my ankles. Sally knows something is up. She says she can see it in my eyes. I call her out for deducing and she replies it was just obvious. And she shuts up after she realised what she'd just said. I'm not sure how she'll take the news. She never cared for Sherlock in the same way we did. It's her loss. But it makes more sense if she hears everything from me and not from someone else.

Her home is so much more comfortable than mine. It's almos toasty warm. We wipe and remove our boots by the door and walk inside. I remove my coat and hang it up on a small hook. Molly is sitting on an old tattered couch, book in one hand and a tabby kitten purring on her lap. She gives me a small smile as we walk in.

"Make yourselves comfortable." I hear Mrs Hudson call from another room. She must have seen us as we came in. Good old Mrs Hudson.

Sally moves and sits next to Molly, who doesn't seem all that happy about it. I sit on a hard wooden chair by the window. Mrs Hudson comes in a tray of steaming hot coffee. I take the blue mug with the dancing cows and thank her.

"Now what brings you all the way out here, Mr Lestrade?"

"Greg, just Greg is fine." She waves a hand at me and sits down.

"Well...I have some news.:

"It's bad news isn't it?" Molly can see it in my eyes too. Damn deductions. I nod.

"Yeah, I'm afraid it is. Look um, I went out on the latest expedition group, to act as security. And well...I saw him."

I hear Mrs Hudson gasp, she knows who I mean. They all do.

"And?" Sally waves for me to continue.

"And... he's.. one of them. He's a zombie."


MRS HUDSON

"And... he's.. one of them. He's a zombie."

I can see how painfully that was for Greg to say. Oh my poor boy! This is all my fault. If I had only run a little faster he wouldn't have had to fend off the creatures chasing us. I will never forget his voice screaming for me to run, while he stood there with his harpoon. He saved me and now I have doomed him to a half life. My head sinks into my hands and I weep.

Molly wraps her arms around me and holds me close. Greg coughs and stands up. He says he will return tomorrow and tell us everything. I hear Molly say goodbye. I wipe my eyes and thank him for coming. Its horrible news, its the worst news. But its closure. I was afraid, not knowing what happened to him but now I know. But images of him fighting of zombies and being attacked or returning to his flat alone and cold and waiting for the inevitable brings fresh new tears.

"There, there Martha. It's ok. Maybe there will be a cure."

"Are you out of your mind? As if there will be a cure. Besides, he probably likes being a zombie. He was so damn fascinated with them when they first arrived."

Sally and Molly begin fighting. I know she doesn't truly hate Sherlock. I can see the regret on her face as soon as she uttered those words. I can't deal with this right now, so I leave them to continue their fight and head for my room. I close my door so I can't hear their raised voices and sit on my bed. There is a photograph on the table beside it and I pick it up an stroke the frame.

It's of myself, Sherlock, Molly and Lestrade. Three months before the war started. Dear boy, I hope we can help you somehow.