"Those who do not complain are never pitied."

Xxx

A week had come and gone. Molly was waiting anxiously as tests were done on her mother, waiting to see if the treatment would pay off. Her mother was watching an old sitcom on the telly, and Ellen and Thomas were flipping through month old magazines.

As selfish as the situation was, Molly was happy to have spent time with her family, missing them more so in the past few weeks then she ever had. While the circumstances could have been better, she was delighted to wake up and see her mum and Thomas every day. Not to mention, Meena and her boss had sent her sweet words of encouragement. George had tried to text her, which she promptly ignored.

Still no word from Sherlock.

She sighed, but immediately bolted to attention as Dr. Garcia entered, files in his hands. He gave the group a calm smile.

"We see some shrinkage already," he paused as the group let out cries of excitement, "But there is a long road ahead."

Molly, who had begun to cry again, wiped at her eyes. "What now? What happens?"

"Well, we wait. When she returns to the UK, she needs to have scans done every week to watch the shrinkage. We may decide to start her on chemo to completely clear them out, but at the present, it's a waiting game."

Molly embraced Thomas, sobbing into his chest. He rubbed her back, smiling at his tearful mother. "I told you Mum. Everything will be okay."

Xxx

Molly and Ellen sat outside of the hospital, breathing in the city air, happy to feel sunlight on their skin. Thomas had remained in the room with their mother, leaving the women to a few moments of fresh air.

Molly looked over at her sister-in-law, the happiest she had been in days. "I was so scared. And now, things are just going to get better."

Ellen smiled and nodded. "This is such great news. It had been such a hard time for your brother," She frowned and began to pick at her nails. "I was so worried about him. He was barely sleeping, he couldn't work, he was spreading himself so thin, trying to convince your mother to consider chemo and so terribly upset about the decision, and then Sherlock showed up and thankfully everything—"

Molly interrupted Ellen, her eyes wide, "I'm sorry. Did you just say Sherlock?"

Ellen paled and swallowed. "No, no, I… I—"

"Ellen. You said Sherlock. I heard you say his name."

She whimpered and cursed, dropping her gaze to her hands. "I wasn't supposed to say anything," she mumbled.

Molly brought her hand to her mouth, suddenly feeling sick. "Ellen… How is Sherlock involved in this?"

Ellen frowned and met Molly's eyes.

Molly took a shuddering breath. Words were not needed.

She just knew.

Xxx

The past month had been the hardest of Ellen's life. Having to watch her husband fall apart, knowing the toll that his mother's condition was taking on him, practically destroyed her. And there was little she could do but hold his hand, giving empty promises that things would be okay. That everything would get better.

But it wouldn't. Not really. Because even if her mother-in-law were to begin chemotherapy, her remaining time was pushed to nine months, instead of its current estimate at six. The numbers were scary. It didn't help that Thomas knew them all by heart, and they never failed to bring him to tears.

At the present, she was preparing tea in the kitchen, as Thomas washed some of his clothes. They had pretty much spent all their free time at the hospital since his mother's admission, and this was the first time in a fortnight that they had been in their house together.

Thomas entered the kitchen, his eyes tired. He grabbed a bag of crisps and dropped to a seat at the table, rubbing his temples. Ellen frowned and handed him a cup of tea.

"Have you rung Molly? When—"

A loud knock at the door distracted the couple. Before Thomas could get up, Ellen rubbed his shoulders and hurried for the door. Although she wanted her husband to sit and relax, he hurried after her, watching from over her shoulder as she opened the door.

At the sight of the two men on the other side, Ellen turned and looked at Thomas, clearly confused.

"Sherlock Holmes?" Thomas asked, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

The curly-haired man nodded and removed his gloves. "Thomas and Ellen Hooper. We meet again. This is my older brother, Mycroft. We'd like to speak to you."

Thomas and Ellen exchanged looks before stepping aside, letting the brothers enter. Ellen scurried back to the kitchen, quick to prepare tea for the men. Thomas cleared his throat and led them into the sitting room, watching both men curiously.

"What's this about? Don't you live in London?" Thomas asked.

"Yes. We do. But I wanted to discuss this with you in person," Sherlock began.

"Discuss what?"

"Your mother's treatment options." Sherlock announced, thanking Ellen as she set two cups of tea down on the table.

Thomas shifted in his chairs, watching Sherlock wearily. "I don't understand. How do you know about my mother? And how can you help?

Sherlock opened his mouth, but Mycroft raised his hand, indicating it was his turn to speak. "Mr. Hooper, I understand that the NHS has rejected your application to remove your mother from Chapel Allerton and send her to New York for an experimental treatment."

Thomas swallowed and nodded, unable to gaze away from the two, very dominating men across from him, looking quite out of place in his shabby yet comfortable home.

"I also understand that without this experimental treatment, your mother's only option is to undergo chemotherapy, which is not expected to save her life."

"Yes," Thomas forced out, holding his tea between his hands, "But she doesn't even want that. She doesn't think it's worth going through it if she's going to die anyways."

"I see," Mycroft sipped his tea and looked at Sherlock, before back to Thomas. "We have someone we'd like you to meet."

Thomas raised an eyebrow, but watched as Mycroft removed a laptop from a briefcase and opened it, showing a video call with a friendly gentleman in a white lab coat. The man waved.

"Hello, Mr. Hooper," he announced, his voice confident and very American, "My name is Richard Garcia and I would be happy to operate on your mother. This particular treatment has had a ninety percent success rate, meaning most of my patients have seen significant increases in life span, or shrinking of their tumors. Of those ninety, sixty percent have seen their tumors disappear entirely and have a clean bill of health."

Thomas blinked. "If it's so successful, why it still in the experimental phase?"

The doctor sighed. "Well, it's an expensive treatment, and about five percent of my patients have died during the operation."

The room grew silent, as Thomas considered the words. "She could die during this operation?"

"You could die during any operation, Mr. Hooper. And I don't wish to be harsh, but without this treatment, your mother will almost certainly die."

Thomas shook his head angrily and looked over to Mycroft and Sherlock, who sat watching the interaction. He set his tea cup down aggressively, causing the liquid to fly over the table.

"What is this? Why am I talking to this bloody American? Are you taunting me? It doesn't matter if he agrees to perform the operation! They won't let her leave!" He glanced over at Ellen, who was watching with tears in her eyes.

"Besides," he practically whispered, "It's not as if we could afford it. And I'm not letting my baby sister go into debt for something that may not work."

From the monitor, Dr. Garcia raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Hooper, I'll let Mr. Holmes discuss this with you further. I've said my piece. I'll see you tomorrow in New York."

The connection went to black, prompting Thomas to look back at the brothers. Mycroft packed his laptop away, leaving Sherlock to speak.

"The NHS has changed their minds. Your mother will be flown on an Air Ambulance this evening to New York City. Her surgery is tomorrow," Sherlock explained.

Thomas looked over at Ellen before back at Sherlock. "I'm sorry. I don't understand."

Mycroft sighed and sipped his tea. "Mr. Hooper, my brother asked that I pull some strings to get your mother approved, which I have. I urge you not to worry any longer. Everything has been taken care of. From the treatment and rehabilitation costs, to your flights and accommodation. All you need to do is get on that flight this evening."

Ellen started crying and dropped beside her husband, squeezing his hand. "This is incredible, Thomas! This means she has a chance!"

Thomas looked between the two brothers, too shocked by their words to appear excited. "Why would you do this?" He asked, rather angrily, "I don't understand what's in this for you to help us!"

Mycroft looked over at Sherlock, who appeared anxious, for once in his life.

"I'm doing this because I care greatly for Molly. But that also brings up a condition."

"Excuse me?" Thomas asked, his eyes boring into Sherlock's.

"You cannot tell Molly of my involvement. Tell her your wife filed an appeal, or someone wrote an article in the paper, that the community donated money… Whatever. She cannot know that I assisted."

Thomas swallowed and stared at Sherlock, finally realizing what the man had done. He couldn't control the tears that fell down his face.

"How can I ever thank you? How can I ever pay you back?" He asked, through glossy eyes.

Sherlock shook his head. "All I need you to do is ring Molly and tell her that her flight leaves at 9."

With that, he rose to his feet, Mycroft doing the same. He replaced his gloves on his hands and looked over one final time at the couple, who were embracing and crying. He took a deep breath.

"Good luck. I hope your mother recovers well."

And with that, the Holmes brothers disappeared, leaving only a folder of travel information as proof of their visit.