Chapter 13: How Do We End Up Here?
The clock ticked on as the 9 o'clock hour came to a close. Molly was elbow deep into an autopsy of an elder male (cause of death: heart attack, naturally). Surprisingly, her day was going by much smoother and quicker than she expected. Sherlock-or rather the taxi he had accompanied her in-had pulled up to Barts, she exchanged a quick peck and a whispered 'solve this one quick' with Sherlock and then went about her day as normal. She honestly thought her mind would continue to drift to thoughts of doubt and worry about Sherlock, but it was quite the opposite. It was like he had told her, John was with him so what could possibly go wrong? John would watch over him, make sure he wouldn't push himself too far.
It was fine, all completely fine.
Nothing was amiss.
As she sewed up the man's chest cavity, humming a happy little tune to herself, her cell phone gave a quick buzz from the inside of her coat pocket. Molly disposed of her blood stained gloves then dug out the device to read the waiting text:
Have a wonderful trip! The aides can pick up your shifts-Mike
Furrowing her brow, Molly began to type a reply. Why on Earth would her boss send her a message like this out of the blue? Surely it was a mistake; perhaps it was meant for a Melinda or a Megan or some other M name in Mike's phone. Just as she was about to hit send, another text came in:
Be careful. Contact John or me if anything happens.-MW
"Mary, what are you talking about?" Molly muttered as she stared at the screen in utter confusion. What did she need to be careful about? Wasn't John with Sherlock? Suddenly, the double doors to the morgue swung open causing her to spin around on her heels to face this unexpected guest.
"Molly Hooper," that instantly recognizable voice boomed as its owner waltzed into the room, "my dearest Molly Hooper, always a pleasure to see you."
"Sherlock," Molly said, jumping back a bit in surprise, "What are-But I thought that-Where's John?"
"Hello to you as well. I'm doing well, thank you for asking." Sherlock teased as he came up closer to her, setting his hands on her waist. Before Molly could utter a reply or a voice one of the many questions clouding her thoughts, Sherlock placed a soft kiss upon her lips. She aloud her eyes to flutter closed as she gave into the unexpected (yet very welcomed) gesture. Something, though, felt very off about the whole moment; why was he here? Shouldn't he be gone by now?
"Heart attack?" Sherlock asked when they parted, nodding toward the freshly sewn up corpse on the slab.
"What? Oh, um, yes." Molly replied, wrapping her head around the current moment, "He was wheeled in this morning."
"Ah, so it's a fresh one! Always my favorite." Sherlock said as he began circling around the slab, giddy as a child at Christmas, "May I?"
"Oh, well," Molly stammered, "I, um, I did just finish up-"
"Look at this discoloring around his fingernails," Sherlock rattled on, "Fascinating."
"Oh, is it?" Molly asked, "They are just tobacco stains."
"Mmm,yes, but it's the type of tobacco stain." he explained, "So much to tell about a person from their stains, wouldn't you agree? A whole history hidden behind mark-ups and messes."
Molly just watched her lover circle the exam table with glee. She could've sworn he was humming the same tune she was just moments ago. Despite the odd moment, Molly found herself entranced by Sherlock Holmes; the way he owned the room, the air he carried about him.
"Molly," Sherlock said with a chuckle, locking his strong gaze with hers, "You're staring, love."
"Sorry, sorry," Molly stammered, shaking her head but she then froze: "Did you just call me 'love'?"
"Yes, I do that on occasion," he said with a smile, "You seem quite distracted now, Molly. Is everything alright."
"It's...It's fine," she replied, "I just-Well, obviously, I wasn't expecting you."
"Yes, yes. I should be in Liverpool by now, shouldn't I?" Sherlock chuckled, a devious smirk on his lips, "Had to make a few pit stops first. Get my things together, check in with Mrs. Hudson...pick up my assistant."
His eyes were sparkling with a suspicious shine, one that made Molly a bit uneasy. He only had that look if he was about to surprise her, an act that she was always cautious about. The trouble with Sherlock Holmes was, though, no one could ever figure out what exactly he was hiding behind this gaze. Was it good? Bad? A bit of both? Even Molly, the woman who could read him like an open book, could not figure it out.
"Your assistant," Molly said, moving away from him slightly so she could put away her autopsy equipment. "I thought you saw John earlier, after you had dropped me off,"
"Yes, for an appointment." he replied, following her around the lab in a manner that was similar to that of a lost puppy, "Nothing new to report, by the way. Still sick, still dying." Molly stopped in her tracks and gave him a cold, over the shoulder, glare; "Bit not good?" he asked, already knowing the obvious answer.
"What do you think?" she replied, returning to work, "Never mind, don't answer that. Is John waiting in the cab?"
Sherlock let out a small laugh; "I didn't take a cab over here."
"Didn't you?" Molly asked, looking at him in confusion.
"Nope," he replied, adding an extra emphasis on the 'p' as he moved to stand directly beside her, "I drove."
"You...drove."
"Yes, I can drive, Molly, it's not that difficult."
"No, I-I mean, I've never seen you drive before."
"That is because I do not own a car. I rented one solely to take me to Liverpool...and then elsewhere."
"Elsewhere?"
Sherlock sighed and took both of Molly's hand's into his, causing her to drop her medical equipment onto the tray with a clang. His gaze now could only be described as sweet and enduring (if ever Sherlock Holmes was capable of expressing that kind of emotion). Molly's heart pounded but her mind was telling her not to get too excited right now. 'Something is amiss,' she told herself, 'Talk to him.' But before she could speak, Sherlock went on;
"You'll be coming with me on this case," he said, never breaking eye contact with her as he guided her toward her office door, "I've spoken with you boss, or rather I got Mycroft to speak with him. You will be paid for your time away, how ever long that may be. I expect this case to take much longer to solve than I had anticipated and will cause me to be out of London longer than I wish as well. Doubt worry, I've packed you a bag. You'll be set. John made it very clear to me that you were a much more appropriate assistant for this case then him. Besides, he has a family to care for and, yes, I didn't think about that when I initially went to visit him this morning."
"Sherlock, I...I honestly don't know what to say," Molly stammered, trying to stop herself from moving with him, "I can't just-You can't expect me to just...Sherlock, my work is..."
"Very important, I know," he finished for her, "But this is important too! I have finally got Moriarty. I have physical evidence. I have a place to start my chase. Won't you help me finish this whole affair off? Won't you help me find it's ultimate end?"
Molly could not think of a single thing to say. He was asking, no demanding, her to accompany him on this case. Her head was telling her to say no, but her heart was saying yes a thousand times over. She wanted him to solve this, to forget about his illness and just work, but she couldn't just drop everything and leave. That wouldn't be ethical..but ethical wasn't part of being with Sherlock Holmes. With a heavy sigh, and internally regretting the words she was about to say, Molly gave Sherlock's hands a small squeeze:
"Let me lock up my office. When do we leave?"
The gray clouds above started to gather into a seemingly unwelcoming clump above giving the melancholy day a perfect backdrop. Rumbling of thunder could be heard echoing in the distance; a storm was coming, but nothing too out of the ordinary. The blowing wind sent a chill up Molly's spine, causing her to wrap her coat around her body even tighter. She was standing in the doorway of the office formally belonging to William Carson, a small note pad scrunched in her hands. Her gaze was focused on Sherlock as he examined the messy work space. A young man, the one who had very proudly stated was "in charge around here" upon their arrival, stood in the middle of the office with his arms crossed across his wide chest and watching the consulting detective with a look that rivaled that of a hawk's.
"Yer not going to find any-ting of value in 'ere, Mister Holmes," he said, "Yard came through 'ere and whipped it all clean."
"That may be, but Scotland Yard always manages to miss something," Sherlock replied, carefully moving around some papers on the desk, "Besides, I know exactly what I'm looking for."
"Oh? An' what might that be?"
"The key."
"Key, sir?"
"Yes, the key to this case."
The young man furrowed his brow then turned his gaze to Molly: "What's he going on about?" he asked her, motioning his head toward Sherlock.
Molly simply shrugged, deciding that it really was not her place to answer any questions or voice a comment about the case. In all honesty, she felt very out of place at this crime scene. This of course was not her first time out with Sherlock Holmes on a case, but this felt very different than before. Perhaps it was the fact that he had just strolled into Barts morgue and told her that she'd be accompanying him to Liverpool, taking her more or less by surprise.
The trip to the dockyard had been silent. They weren't mad or cross with one another; there was simply just nothing to say. The thought of texting John crossed Molly's mind, but she decided against it. 'Best keep my focus on the here and now,' she told herself as she watched the world speed past her window, 'Sherlock is too full of surprises right now for me not to remain in the present.'
She could not help but let her mind wander toward Sherlock's illness, though. Try as he did to hide it, Sherlock was exhausted and Molly could see it. His energy simply wasn't what it should be. He looked anything but well rested once their drive went underway. Molly was about to offer to take the wheel at one point but decided against it in fear of sparking some unwanted argument; 'The case is what's important,' she told herself, 'Focus on the case.'
"And here it lies," Sherlock said with a light chuckle as he picked a small piece of note paper up and held it in both hands as if it were the world's most precious gem, "Ah ha! Take a look at it Molly. This is a glorious piece, wouldn't you agree?"
"It's...It's just a piece of paper," the young man said, furrowing his brow even deeper than before, "Is that why you come all the way out 'ere, Mr. Holmes?"
"Young man, I do believe I am finished with your services," Sherlock quickly snapped at him, "Kindly leave my assistant and I to do our work is private."
"Wait, hang on!" he replied, "You can't just..."
"Sir, could we please have the room?" Molly quickly butted in, giving the man a soft expression. After a few mumbled curses, the man left them alone.
"Idiot," Sherlock scoffed once they were alone, "best keep an eye on him though. No doubt he's off to tell the rest of them that we've found the note."
"Whose them and why do they care about this piece of paper?" Molly asked, "I mean, that's all it really is, right? A piece of paper."
Picking up on the meek and doubting tone of her voice, Sherlock looked to Molly with a baffled expression: "Just a piece of-Molly, please!" he said, raising up and walking toward her, "You know this is so much more than a piece of paper. This is a challenge. The start of something that we've only just scratched the surface of. Just a piece of paper? Please."
Sherlock then held the paper up to the light to better examine it, a smirk dawning his lips; "This is so much more, Molly. Oh, so very much more." he went on, never taking his eyes of the evidence, "This is everything."
"Everything?" she asked
"Absolutely everything." he muttered in reply.
Molly couldn't think of a reply. She only just continued to chew her bottom lip nervously and watch as Sherlock examined the paper as if it were the Hope Diamond. She could see the thoughts coursing through his mind a hundred miles a minute. He was lost now; lost in the world of the case and the world of Moriarty. His illness was pushed back to the farthest reaches of his infamous Mind Palace. All that mattered now what the case; this case was paramount.
"Fancy a holiday, Molly?" Sherlock asked, breaking her once again from her thoughts.
"What? Sorry?" she asked, "A...holiday?"
"Yes, a holiday," he repeated, turning his gaze to her now, "Couples do that sort of thing, right? Travel together. Go on outings together. Do...other things of that nature together."
"Sherlock, what in God's name does this have to do with the case?" she asked.
A small smirk grew across his lips as Sherlock prepared to begin one of his infamous monologues of explanation. Molly, on the other hand, knew this and just sighed in annoyance.
"This isn't just paper this note is written on." he explained, ignoring her reaction, "It's a specific type of paper that is used for manufacturing travel tickets, particularly those for sea travel. Easy to find that sort of thing around here; it's a shipyard. But Moriarty wouldn't have just used this paper for nothing. No, he never does anything without a reason, especially if he's leaving me a note such as this. So, taking a look at this fine piece has lead me to find these numbers on the opposite side of his note. A string of them, in fact, written as if in code. But these are not an enigma, far from it really. Care to guess what those numbers are, Doctor Hooper?"
"I'm going to safely assume that they have something to do with sea travel," Molly replied, completely not amused with Sherlock's petty question.
"You assume correctly," he went on, "they are travel information, I believe, going by the order in which they are written; a ship identification code, ticket numbers, a date, time, things such as that. Ticket numbers means there is a reservation for these. In my name? Maybe. No, no, definitely under my name; Moriarty wouldn't use his own. He never gets his hands sets meaning two tickets: one for me and one for you. Moriarty is leading us to the next clue or, if we are lucky, directly to Carson murder was just to grab my attention, I see that now. The real case, the real reason I needed to take this on, is where these tickets will lead us. So, I ask you again, my dear Molly Hooper, fancy a holiday?"
Molly just stood there, staring at him in utter disbelief. Did he truly believe the nonsense that just came from his lips? That didn't make any since. It was all too random, too left-field, too...odd, for lack of a better word. She simply could not come up with a response.
"Sherlock," she finally managed to say, "Are-are you feeling alright? Do you need to sit?"
"I'm perfectly fine," he replied, furrowing his brow, "Why do you ask?"
"Well, I-Do you really want to know?" Molly asked
"...Your not making much sense, Molly. Oh, no wait! Hang on! I see now. Your worried my fever is acting up. Ha! You're always so worried about my health," Sherlock scoffed in reply, "Please, Molly, do try to focus."
"I would if I knew what the bloody hell was going on," she finally snapped; this day had just taken far too many twists and turns for her liking. "You barge into my office, acting like you own the place, and then you proceed to tell me that I'm using up my Paid Time Off to join you on this case which you don't know how long that will take to solve. We spend a long drive completely in silence to this shipyard that I barely have any clue about and now I'm mad and confused and frustrated. I can't focus because I just don't know what's going on. What is going through your mind? Can't you tell me? Just tell me."
Sherlock just looked at her with a blank gaze. He hadn't expect that outburst or her frustration. He thought she would just understand what he meant, what he was trying to tell her. He had a lead, an honest lead, and they were going to have to travel to follow it. Did he really not make that clear just now?
"I'm sorry," he said rather slowly, looking down at his feet, "I didn't mean to, um, upset you."
"No, no Sherlock you didn't upset me," Molly grumbled, rubbing the bridge of her nose, "It's just..."
"I thought you wanted to help." he said before she could finish her thought, "You always want to help. I just assumed-That's my problem, isn't it? I assume so much from you and I never ask what you want." He then lifted his head and walked over to her. As their toes touched and Molly looked up into his eyes, Sherlock took her hands into both of his;
"Molly, I need you. I need your company, your assistance: I need you." he continued, "Moriarty has left yet another clue to his location and I need to follow it. It's something I have to do and I would be-No, no, this isn't coming out right. Molly Hooper, we...I... I should not have barged into the lab without telling you what I was planning. I should not have convinced Mycroft to take with you boss about you taking time away from work. I should not have kept you in the dark and, just now, I should not have just assumed you'd come along with me on wherever Moriarty is leading me. If you wish to return to London, I will drive you back tonight; right now even, if you'd like. I'm sorry I didn't communicate properly with you. I'm...sorry."
Molly let out a heavy sigh and rested her forehead on his chest. Confused by her reaction, Sherlock just slowly wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace. She returned the gesture and allowed her eyes to close as he kissed the top of her head. They remained like this for countless minutes, both completely forgetting where they were. A sweet form of serenity replaced the tension of the room and time itself seemed to slow. It was a content and needed pause, like a breath of fresh air. Any thought of cases and illnesses were a far distant dream to them. They had each other, that is what mattered.
"I'm not leaving your side," Molly finally spoke, breaking the somber spell, "I can't do that to you."
"You could," Sherlock replied, looking into her eyes, "you have every right to go back to your work."
"And let you go off on some adventure by yourself? No, definitely not." she said, a small smile on her lips. Very slowly, Molly lifted her hand and gently brushed her fingers across Sherlock's cheek; "As much as you loath to admit it, you can not be alone in your...condition." she went on, swallowing the word 'condition' as if it were some ill-tasting medicine, "Moriarty already knows how to play you and if he finds out about your illness-Sherlock, you know he will try to use it to his advantage. I can't let anything like that happen to you. Do I wish you had given me a tad bit more of a notice? Yes, but what's done is done. I'm here now, and I'm going to protect you, no matter what."
"Hmm, isn't that what I'm supposed to do for you?" Sherlock asked with a smirk.
Molly let out a small chuckled then placed a soft kiss on his cheek; "I can take care of myself," she whispered to him, "You just solve this, whatever this is. End this so we can move on from Moriarty and focus on getting you better, alright?"
"Alright," Sherlock whispered in reply. He looked once more into her eyes before giving her an affirmative nod, signifying that the case was back at the forefront of his mind. Molly just smiled back, but worry was still haunting the back of her brain. Where was this going to lead? What was going to happen?
"Now, it appears you and I have a boat to catch," Sherlock said, tucking a stray hair of her's behind her ear, "That is, we have to find it first."
Hello all and thank you for sticking with me. I have been in rehearsals/opening up a new production so that has been my reason for the long wait. Plus, I had a lot of trouble writing this one; it just wasn't going where I wanted it to and the words just weren't making sense. Please let me know what you think of this final product; your guys feedback is very much appreciated and taken into account.
Since my show is now up and running, I have my days back so I can write. This story will start to get into the Moriarty issue, but Sherlock's illness is still progressing. I have a plan, I assure you. As always, your responses would mean the world to me and I will try to reply back as soon as I can. Once again, thank you so much for sticking with me.
Much love and many thanks,
Samwise221b