Chapter 14

Hello all! First off, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE WONDERFUL REVIEWS! I greatly appreciate it!

ALSO! I am so, so sorry it has taken me FOREVER to post to post another chapter for the story, but... I think I got my groove back! so to speak haha

Also, I'm going to try and thank all of my wonderful reviews before each chapter. I always feel horrible that I can't comment on reviews to let you all individually know how much I appreciate your kind words!

Renaissancebooklover108: I like the idea too, I needed something to keep the story going, I'm glad you liked it!

MorbidbyDefault: Hahaha thank you so much! I always appreciate your reviews, and as always, my favorite thing is to write a strong Molly. I like showing a side that is rare to her, so it gives me the opportunity to show her being strong and wonderful J

Pjfunnybunny: I'm glad you do! Thank you! :D

Diamond07: Thank you so much, I love writing it! So I suppose we're even? Haha

It had been three weeks since the confrontation with Moran. Mary had gone back to work, and John was even feeling better. I moved in with Sherlock—he thought it would be best since the scenario with the delivery man almost ended in the most morbid of circumstances.

John and Sherlock began to take on cases once more, a relief to me, as well as John and Mrs. Hudson since Sherlock was becoming next to unbearable sitting at home in his flat. I understood his frustration. Frankly I was frustrated myself. What could possibly keep Moran so busy that he didn't bother with Sherlock? Or perhaps that was his intention, to keep him waiting so he wouldn't know what to expect next. Oh, he was quite the protégé it seems.

Work had been slow. The cases that Sherlock, John and Greg had been on required little function of the morgue so I was left with my normal everyday tasks as a pathologist. I only had two bodies to work on today, and frankly it was nothing interesting. I received a text from Sherlock letting me know he would be home late from the case, which I of course replied back telling him not to worry and that I would have dinner waiting for him.

I decided to go out to lunch today. I went to the café across the street and had a nice light salad. It was a nice change of scenery. The morgue could always be so dull. I sat down and ate my salad while reading a new paper that was published by one of higher ups in the lab. It was on the decomposition of tissue in different conditions and the importance of body containment. Quite an interesting read.

I went back to the lab and ran into Mike on the way. I stopped and chatted a bit about the wife and kids, his son Patrick, who was 12 was just finishing primary school and had already shown interest in medicine just like his father. Mike was beaming. I asked Mike if he had seen Sherlock or John while I was gone and he shook his head in response.

"Someone did drop off a delivery, though. I signed for it." He said smiling.

"Oh! Thank you. I'll hurry on back to the lab and see what it is." I said sweetly and headed off to go back to work. I only had filing left for the rest of the day, so perhaps I could leave early. That would be a good thing—

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Well… I don't remember going to bed. I don't even remember making dinner. Ugh lord my head hurt. What is wrong? Did I bang my head? I tried sitting up but I physically couldn't. I began to panic. What is wrong? What's wrong with me?!

"Molly?!" I heard a voice call out to me. A voice… Sherlock's voice. It was Sherlock calling to me. Why did he sound panicked?

I tried sitting up once more and only groaned in response. "Ugh, Jesus. What the hell happened?" I looked around the room. It was a hospital room. I was in the hospital. Taking in the patterns on the walls, it seemed to be St. Bart's. That was comforting. I strained to open my eyes once more and saw Sherlock on the bed beside me holding my hand his face etched with concern. I smiled at him.

"Hey." I said.

He looked at me eyes wide; "Hey…" he choked out.

"Sorry about dinner." I drawled, and he did nothing but chuckle and stroke my hand lightly.

I looked around the room to see John sitting in a chair smiling at me and giving me a light wave, and Mary sitting beside him asleep on her shoulder.

"How long have I been here?" I asked.

"Two days." Sherlock said finally. I allowed the concern to show on my face. It was a surprise to me after all. I honestly don't even remember what could've happened to cause me to be in this situation.

"What happened?" I looked at Sherlock pensively and he let out a sigh.

"There was an explosion." He began.

"Where?"

"The Morgue." He deadpanned. I allowed that to sink in. My lab. My lab was destroyed. I could do nothing to hold back the hot tears ready to spring fourth from my eyes.

"Mycroft is having people work on the renovations as we speak darling." He tried to comfort me. I shook my head in confirmation that I understood him. I felt numb, not physically, just emotionally numb to everything.

"What is the last thing you remember?" He asked simply enough.

"Talking with Mike after my lunch break." I scratched out. John then handed me a glass of water and I nodded my thanks to him, such a doctor he is.

"That's it?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry." I looked down at the cold beverage in my hands, which seemed to be burned. I sobbed out. Sherlock grabbed them instantly and forced me to look into his eyes.

"What's the matter?" He asked me quickly. "My hands!" I sobbed out and Sherlock pulled me close to him stroking my hair in comfort.

"It's all right darling… I know… I know." He soothed me, but really it was quite difficult for me to accept his comfort. I needed my hands to work. They were the most important thing in my job description aside from my medical knowledge. If I didn't have full functionality of my hands, I may never cut open another cadaver again! I sobbed even more into Sherlock's chest. His heart was beating fast, so fast. I gulped and looked up at him and saw his eyes become so glassy.

"I'm so sorry, Love." he said. He blamed himself for this happening. He thought that he had caused me such pain. Because Moran was after him, he believed that anything that happened to me was no different than him doing it himself.

"Don't you dare make this your fault Sherlock Holmes." I said to him with as much sternness I could muster from my hoarse voice. He looked up to me and smiled softly.

"Right then." He finished. He still held me close which I was grateful for. I didn't want him to leave me at such a time.

"The hospital said you could leave tomorrow. Your injuries are minimal, the burns are really their only concern." He said astutely. "I see…" I began. "So, back to Baker Street then?" I looked to him and his face faltered slightly. I did not like the look in his eyes at that moment. I have known this man far too long for him to even try to keep something from me. I looked to John who only looked at the wall immediately. Must have been something interesting I couldn't see. They were terrible liars.

"I'm not going to Baker street then." I finished.

"No." I gulped and felt a soreness come to my throat, from the pain of the explosion or the emotion I couldn't quite tell.

"Then where?"

"Home."

"Baker street is my—"

"Not your home, or our home… My home." He seemed to almost spit out.

Oh… Oh…Oh no. Was this really happening?

"I'm… I'm staying with?"

"Yes… I'm afraid so. It's safer for you, it'll be easier for you to be taken care of, and I won't have to worry about you while tracking down Moran." Sherlock concluded. It was true. It was so logically sound I wanted to scoff. I hated how he talked about things so logically sometimes like instead of saying 'You need to go because I'll worry too much' or "you can't be here because I won't be able to do my work' well, he did say that I suppose, but—He also said he worry. Okay, okay then. I suppose I can't be too upset. Well, I can be just for different reasons. I would be a distraction. A distraction that Moran was hoping would cripple Sherlock and leave him incapable of focusing on the task at hand. Moriarty must not have taught him well enough. Sherlock doesn't allow anything to interfere with a case. Ever.

"All right. I know it's important for me to do so… so I will." I sort of huffed." He threw a crooked smile in my direction which only made me chuckle.

"You too Mary, just to be safe." John added.

"To hell I will! I've got a job to perform. I work you know John Watson!" I looked over quickly and noticed Mary sitting up and alert. I didn't know she woke up, but she smiled at me warmly and I returned the favor.

"But, you… I—"

"She's right, John. To be completely honest, Moran is not after her, or you for that matter. He is after me. So he is trying to harm what I hold most dear. And no offense Mary—you are not it."

"None taken, Mr. Deer stalker." She winked at him and he stiffened at the remark. I looked up at him from the bed. That meant me. I was what he held most dear. Tears began welling up in my eyes, I couldn't help it really—

"Oh, come now Molly, you had to know this so what are the tears for? You silly woman." Sherlock retorted.

"She's happy, you git!" John said to him hissing. Sherlock looked to him and his eyes widen slightly at the noise.

"Ah... I see. Well yes you can be happ—"

I kissed him. Of course I kissed him. He had just admitted that I was what he held most dear in his life. Little Mousy Molly Hooper. The woman who waited and pined over this man in my arms for years waiting for him to even notice me, and all it took was for him to 'die'. He pulled me closely and smiled against my lips. I could feel the awkward surroundings from Mary and John like a cloud and frankly, I didn't care. This is the man I love, and I don't know when I will see him again… Plus, they had been this way in front of me on more than one occasion. Karma at its best I say.

"I love you, Sherlock Holmes." I said breathy. I looked him in the eyes and saw the edges of his features soften and break out with a smile. He even managed a blush as well. It was quite adorable.

"And I, you Molly Hooper." He said sweetly as he kissed my nose just lightly. I pulled him in close once more only to be greeted with a loud rumble of the throat. I looked up from Sherlock's chest to see a very sharply dressed Mycroft standing by the front door.

"Ah, brother." Sherlock began.

"Yes. I am here. Miss Hooper." He tilted his head slightly in recognition to my presence.

"Hello, Mycroft, it was nice of you—"

"I did not stop by to see you; it was just the only way to see the man who won't let go of your side, apparently." He countered. I will admit that hurt a little bit. "Although, I am glad to see your injuries were not as bad as we thought. You should be making a quick recovery soon enough." He added. I smiled to him. "I hope so." I said.

"The lab?" Sherlock began with his regal flow of tone, the one he saved strictly for his elder brother apparently.

"Coming along, it seems." Mycroft answered. "With a few 'upgrades' at your request of course dear brother." He said to Sherlock almost mockingly. I know I have not seen Mycroft many times, the most I had seen him was after the fall when he came to check in on Sherlock, so their behavior frankly should not surprise me.

"Upgrades?" I said that a little too happily.

"Yes. Some of your equipment is severely outdated and could use a revamp." Sherlock countered. "Have you found out who the person was?" He asked looking away from me to his brother once more. We were all interested in this question and it all hanged in the air like a stale smell that no one wanted to waft in.

"It seems to have been the same person who sent you the Night shade package. Straying from the pattern? I suppose Moran was getting quite tired of the games and longed for the violence." I gulped. And that violence apparently involved me.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock hissed at him. Was he trying to protect me? I mean yes the thought was daunting and quite frightening, but nothing I hadn't already assumed myself. I knew I was meant to die instead of barely being injured. The only thing that stopped that from happening was Mike being such a gush about his children. Thank you Mike. I need to remember to buy him a present.

"Ah… yes. Apologies." Mycroft tilted his head once more. "No need." I said. It was nothing I hadn't already thought anyway." Mycroft allowed a remnant of surprise show on his face. "Molly…" "Seriously, darling? You are the smartest man in all of London, no England, possibly even the world! And you cannot see that he was trying to kill me? I know it hurts to think of, just like it hurts to think the same of you. But please—please do not allow our love for one another change who you are. The brilliant, logical man that you have always been. You know it's the truth. The only reason I am breathing at all is because of Mike."

"And I will be sure to thank him for his chatterings." Sherlock said looking down at me. "I will remember dear. I promise. It's just—it's difficult to feel this much. It's almost too much to reign in."

"Just be Sherlock Bloody Holmes, okay? He is who we need. Who I need. You need to be him to save us, to save me." I said to him smiling. "Even before all of this, when you were Sherlock the brilliant and unattainable, you were still the man I loved. Do not think that you need to change any of that."

"I won't." He finished smiling and kissed my forehead gently. I could see his face change almost instantaneously. Then there he was Sherlock, The Sherlock Holmes Consulting Detective, the only one in the world. Taking on nearly impossible mysteries to solve, and then solving them. He was quite an anomaly. I loved him so much.

"Ready, John?" Sherlock said in his usual tone when getting ready for a case. Jaunty with a little beat to it.

"Will I—"

"I'm sure Mary understands." She nodded in confirmation. "We have who the person is now John and we need to find him before it's too late! There is no time to waste now let's move!" Sherlock said as he stood up from my hospital bed to make his way to his scarf and Belstaff. He looked at me while circling the cloth around his neck and smiled smugly, like he always di to me. It caused a stirring deep within me, and frankly, I had no time for that. Yet Sherlock in all his glorious wisdom and knowing noticed—of course how he could just so simply affect me in the most mundane ways. It made him smile even wider. Prideful git. Did I have to tell him to act more like his usual self? Why? Why did I think that was a good idea? I began blushing from his face to only see his smile grow wider into a genuine full on smile, teeth and all. He even began to chuckle a bit.

Stop it!" I laughed.

"I will not and you know it, Doctor." I blushed an even deeper shade of red, and he laughed loudly that John looked at us simply puzzled at the commotion.

"Oh, for heaven's sake… please stop doing that. Like a bunch of teenagers." Mycroft added while straightening his suit jacket.

"Oh ho ho, Jealously does not suit you very well big brother—makes you scowl too much." Sherlock teased and I chuckled and Mycroft glared at him disapprovingly.

"I know nothing of what you speak of."

"I certainly believe you do, big brother." He laughed. "Please make sure Molly gets to Mummy's safely, yes?"

"Yes, of course." Mycroft said dramatically.

"Bye Molly! Be safe!" Mary hugged me tightly.

"Yeah. You'll be all right. Sherlock's Mum can't be too bad. We'll see you soon." John added while leaving the door.

"Miss Hooper. I will have someone pick you up tomorrow morning at ten, understood?" I nodded numbly to his statement. Things were happening so rapidly.

"Molly." Sherlock said as he nodded tightly and walked out the door.

Ugh. What else could I expect, really? I sighed sadly and sat on the bed waiting for my dinner to arrive. I debated putting on crap telly, but I saw a book on the stand and decided reading may be batter. I went to grab the book when the door opened slightly so I turned to its direction to see Sherlock smiling.

"Oh, and Molly?" He said.

"Yes?"

"I love you." He said, warm and sweet. Then he was gone.