Thank you all for following this story and for showing an amazing amount of patience with me. I promise the end is nigh. Couple reminders: everyone is OOC! This is a complete AU! Honestly I only set out thinking I would have Sherlock off character, but everyone else sort of became their own people as well, it wasn't intentional.

Special thanks to my beta MizJoely for her help and encouragement. Also thank you all for the PM's asking me for updates. I don't mind them one bit, helps remind me that people DO expect some kind of ending... at some point!

I don't own the characters and whatnot but in this particular story... I own lots of other 'stuff'- Enjoy.

Been a while since I updated, sorry about that. Here's a bit of chapter 19 to get us started...

"I've got it!" he yelled across the room. "Stupid, I'm so bloody stupid. She told me what she needed before she started with Mycroft." Sherlock put the rail of the bed down and crawled in beside her careful of her tubes and wires. "She said 'hold onto me, hold on and don't let go.' She needs me to physically hold her. To bring her back. Damn it, I'm an idiot." Sherlock held onto Molly as tightly as he dared. He kissed her cheek and whisper her name over and over. He begged her to come back, he said he'd never leave her side. He said he was sorry that he had only held her hand, but that she looked too fragile and he didn't want to hurt her and that he hadn't understood what she was saying. He kissed her and whispered and kissed her some more until he fell asleep with his tear stained face against her shoulder.

John and Mary watched the exchange knowing that it was private and they should leave, but they couldn't. When Sherlock passed out from exhaustion Mary covered him with a spare blanket.

"We should leave," she said turning to her husband.

John had unshed tears in his eyes. "Yeah, yeah we..." He cleared his throat then turned and walked out of the room. After about two hours of being cocooned in Sherlock's arms and scent and warmth. Molly Hooper woke up. She slowly opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was her True One snuggled into her chest sleeping soundly. Molly smiled but she let the man sleep. She was back, he finally understood what she'd been asking for. And when Sherlock Holmes woke up, she would tell him all the amazing things she had learned.

OoOoO

ch 20

Molly didn't dare move. She allowed Sherlock time to rest. She was well aware of the fact that the last six days had been harder on him than they had been on her. Feeling his pain, hearing his pleading words, had been excruciating, but she had needed his strength to fully regain hers. She couldn't completely understand it and if she were asked to explain it she wouldn't be able to, but Sherlock's physical presence had been critical to her. She had known this before she started the final trip into Mycroft's mind and she had known it while she was unconscious. Finally getting Sherlock to understand it had not been easy; her mouth wasn't cooperating with her mind, it had been incredibly frustrating.

Sherlock woke up less than a half an hour after Molly opened her eyes. Just like every time he woke up from a brief nap he thought, if only for a split second, that the events of the last six days had been some horrific nightmare. Then he remembered where he was as he slowly came back to himself and breathed in Molly's scent. Of course it was somewhat covered by the sterile smells of the hospital and the generic soap they had used to keep her clean, but there was no mistaking the scent of his True One. He allowed himself several seconds to revel in it.

That's when it happened.

"Hey, there's more to me than pheromones, you know." He heard from above his head.

He slowly moved back to get a look at her face, certain that he must be dreaming.

"You're not dreaming, I'm awake. Thanks to you," Molly said in a surprisingly clear voice for someone who had, for all intents and purposes, been comatose for six days. "I know, I sound better than I should." She shrugged. "Advantis, whatcha gonna do?"

Sherlock was completely speechless. She was acting so casual about it. He couldn't find any words... none.

"Sherlock, say something. I want to hear your voice," she said with a wide grin.

"I-I'm so sorry," was all he managed in his sleepy, shocked state.

Molly ran her fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead. "Oh, you silly man. You were working with almost nothing. I wasn't making any sense."

"You remember? You remember trying to tell me what you needed?"

"Oh yes. I was fully aware of what was going on around me, most of the time, I think." She seemed to struggle for a moment. "It's very... hard to explain."

Sherlock tried to get up out of the bed but Molly held on tight. "No-no. I've only had you for a couple of hours. You were so far away from me," she said as she traced his cheek bones, "and so close at the same time. Please don't go just yet."

"But the doctors, they- they will want to examine you. You need to..."

"Trust me when I tell you, they will have no idea how to deal with me." There was an odd twinkle in her eyes that Sherlock couldn't possibly name. "How's Mycroft? He's doing well with the residual effects, I assume?"

Sherlock shook off the strange feeling she'd left him with in order to answer her questions. "He's fine, he's up and walking around." She nodded as if she already knew that much. "He seems to be in fine form. Although I admit we haven't talked much about his health since his first visit. We mostly talk about you, and Henry, of course."

"I know, I heard. He named his son after my father," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "And, you."

Sherlock nodded.

"You've never even asked how he was feeling. I'd hoped there was something I was missing." She cocked her head to the side studying his face. "I suppose not."

"How could you have been awake, yet not? I- I don't understand."

"It's not uncommon for people in a comas to be able to hear what's going on around them." She paused, watching Sherlock closely. "However, I believe in my case, it was a bit different."

He eased back from her. "Different how?"

"It's complicated Sherlock."

He shook his head again. "Complicated?"

"I... I could hear-well sense, what was going on because of you-my connection to you. And then to Mycroft, when he was in the room. Once I realised Mary and John were here, I focused on them and I could sense them as well. Sherlock, Mycroft's been trying to explain this to you."

Yes, his brother had been sharing his experience with Sherlock since that first unsettling visit. Sherlock had only half listened to Mycroft. What did it matter? Molly wasn't well, she wasn't awake... she was locked somewhere in her own mind. He couldn't concentrate enough on what his brother was saying to really comprehend the idea that Molly had become something else. He was totally focused Molly and his own need for her.

"Mycroft says when that you two were connected he could read your thoughts. He says that he believes you could read his as well," he said as he steadied himself for her answer. "Is that true?" He suddenly felt apprehensive. He didn't even know what he was so afraid of. Was a telepath really that different than an empath?

"Yes, yes it is. They are very different, or at least it seems that way to me," Molly answered and watched him with wide, expectant eyes.

"Did I do that thing where I think something in my head and don't mean to say it out loud, but I say it out loud anyway?"

Molly shook her hear. "No love. And you tend to do the opposite. You assume you've informed us of something, when really you've only said it in your head. Very different."

"You read my mind, Molly."

"Yes, Mycroft's been telling you about this for a couple of days, if I have my timing right. And I've actually answered several questions that you only thought about, not spoken out loud, since you woke up. You just didn't notice. Something's happened Sherlock. I have theories, of course, but that's all they are... theories."

Finally Sherlock did get up from the bed and start pacing the room. Molly seemed to deflate a bit, and he realised he was the cause of it. "No, it's not... I'm just... This has been..." He raked his hands through his hair.

"I know Sherlock. You're scared. It's a lot to take in. But I actually have to concentrate to read thoughts, just like before... with emotions. It seems, though I've only been doing it for a short time, to be quite difficult." She picked at her blanket. "I know that this might change things... I know how private you are," she said looking down at her lap. "I would never..."

Sherlock was back in bed before she could finish her sentence. "You're a rubbish telepath Molly Hooper if you think for one minute that this changes how I feel about you." He kissed her jaw and neck and cheek. "That being said, keep your mind to yourself unless you want to spend most of your day flushed red from head to toe."

She sobbed and laughed at the same time as he kissed her over and over.

They stayed like that for several minutes until Molly asked for some water. Sherlock cursed himself for not considering that she'd be thirsty. He handed her a glass of water and sat back down at her bedside.

"Okay, you want to know what happened," she said, putting the cup on her table.

"That is really unnerving."

"You've been doing it for years, Sherlock. Now you know how we feel."

"Do you know how you went from being able to read emotions to... this?" he asked somewhat ineffectually.

Molly gathered herself for a moment; she had theories, but nothing more. "Okay, here goes. Suppose I was always... this?" She motioned to herself. "I think that I always had the potential to read thoughts, but my experience with Mycroft pushed me forward, for lack of a better explanation. When I was, well in his mind, I was concentrating on repairing all the damage. But I could also communicate with him. I didn't realise I was doing it at first. Then it became imperative that he work with me, show me where I needed to go." She took a deep breath. "You have to understand, this is very difficult to explain." She bit her lip and thought for a moment. "So the major damage was obvious, but there were subtle things as well, hidden things that I needed his help with." She took another drink of water. "He was able to guide me in a way, until..."

"Until he woke up and you..." He closed his eyes, remembering her lifeless body on the floor of Mycroft's room. "Didn't?"

"That, I believe, was the last piece of the puzzle coming together. It took the very last of my strength to find it. To fit it into place, so to speak. He was fighting it, understandably so. It's something painful and dark. Something that Anthea's twisted mind made Mycroft do. It's personal Sherlock. He needs to tell you, when he's ready." She reached for his hand, and held it tightly. "Give him time."

Less than thirty minutes later the pair was met with a cadre of doctors and nurses. They began fussing about Molly, asking questions and drawing blood. Mycroft Holmes showed up five minutes into the assault and dispatched them all. Once the room was cleared he approached the woman who saved his life.

"Molly," he said smiling in a way Sherlock had never seen before. "How are you feeling my dear?" He sat himself on the edge of her bed and took her hand.

"I'm well Mycroft. When do I get to see Henry?"

"I can arrange for a visit at any time. He's perfect Molly, absolutely stunning." The man was beaming.

Molly reached up and stroked Mycroft's cheek and he closed his eyes. That's when Sherlock realised his brother was crying and so was Molly. He suddenly felt like an intruder in this moment between two people who had had no more than a handful of conversations in their lives and none of them remotely meaningful. He didn't quite know what to do with himself.

Finally they broke apart and Mycroft cleaned his face. "Well, that's all good to know," Molly said as if they were finishing a conversation.

Mycroft nodded and stood up by her bed straightening his suit, not looking the least bit ashamed for his emotional moment with his brother's girlfriend.

"Where's Anthea?" She was looking between Mycroft and Sherlock.

Sherlock hadn't given the woman more than a passing consideration since he had arrived at the facility but he saw Mycroft's expression darken. "Yes, brother what happened to her?"

Mycroft drew a deep breath. "She's in a medically induced coma."

Molly shook her head angrily. Sherlock frankly didn't know how he felt. This woman was a lunatic and quite possibly a murder. Oh... Mr. Dawde.

Mycroft had either become telepathic as well or he was completely recovered from his ordeal, because he turned to his brother. "We've located Randy Dawde, by the way. His body at least."

"I deduced as much," Sherlock said calmly, though the reality of it was causing him more than just discomfort.

Molly suddenly looked at her boyfriend. "Sherlock, it's not your fault. You couldn't have stopped it. You... we didn't have any idea what was going on back then. You can't possibly blame yourself for this." She jerked her head to Mycroft. "Oh, for the love of... you too?" She threw her hands in air in frustration. "Listen to me, the both of you, and don't make me repeat myself. None of the blame for this situation can put on either of you, do you two understand me? She manipulated and controlled people. She destroyed lives. Mr. Dawde isn't the first life she has taken." Molly's eyes came to rest on Mycroft's with the last sentence. She then returned to her general proclamations. "I won't allow either of you to go on feeling such... oppressive guilt." She rubbed at her temples and Sherlock moved back to her side. "I'm fine Sherlock! Trying to read the both of you is just bit tiring," she snapped then she took a deep breath and studied the brothers for a moment. "I know this will take some getting used to. You're both feeling things differently than you ever have before. I imagine at least in part, because of our shared experience." There was a hard edge to her voice that hadn't been present before.

The men exchanged worried looks.

Molly rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't worry, I'm confident that I can control this with more practice. It's all so new right now. In the meantime stop comparing my current state to extreme PMS, Sherlock."

Mycroft laughed at his little brother's discomfort.

"I'm screwed," Sherlock muttered under his breath.

Yeah, Sherlock... soooo screwed! So tell me what you think. I always love hearing from you and I need to finish up, so drop me a line. Also come play with me on tumblr (same name.)

I'm seriously contemplating starting another Evolution story after this one... I have to admit, it has been my favorite story so far (most likely why I can't seem to finish it) thoughts? Ideas?

Thanks for reading!
Lil