"I need to see her."
John slowly peered up from the magazine. He'd been sitting in Sherlock's room for three hours and these were the first words that Sherlock had uttered since then.
At first he was offended that his gestures were so cruelly rebuffed. Sherlock still had a skeptically eye at the man in the corner but John wasn't going to leave. He would make his point clear. He was here for Sherlock even if he wasn't wanted.
"Need to see who?" John asked.
Sherlock maneuvered the IV's around his arm and straightened his back. "Molly. I need to speak to her."
John scoffed. "I don't think that's such a good idea."
Sherlock's face fell. "Why not?"
"Seriously?"
John's heart raced as Sherlock's face drew a blank. It was most certainly the after-effects of his overdose that clouded his memories but it only exacerbated their fragile relationship. He was tired of being the bearer of all news, especially the hard parts.
"I don't understand. Why can't I see her?"
There was a familiar insistency to his voice. The shreds of over-confidence and bravado were beginning to seep back in. Even so, John had to make a quick decision. Out of exhaustion, he immediately made the wrong one.
He was honest.
"Because you attacked her," he said bluntly.
Sherlock's eyes fell to a squint. "No…"
"Yesterday."
"John, this isn't amusing…"
John set the magazine on the chair and walked over to the bed. "I'm your friend and I'm going to be honest with you. Got it?"
Sherlock winced at the bluntness but nodded.
"You attacked Anderson and then injured Molly. You were under arrest for a few hours but were let off."
Sherlock looked down at his hands in disbelief. "Why can't I remember?"
John sighed. "The drugs inhibited your short-term memory. Best I can guess."
He was lying. Sherlock had remembered the attack when he was brought in. Either he was playing a game or his mind had begun the process of hiding away the pain. John's mind had done that long ago—long lost memories that were tucked back far in the drawer and never to be seen from again.
"Is she upset?"
John tried to smile but it rang hollow. "I don't know. She was in shock when I saw her last."
Sherlock shook his head. "Why?"
"I don't know. It isn't like you."
The heart monitor chirped in the silent room as Sherlock picked at the tape that held in his IV.
"I still want to see her," he said.
John balled his hands up into a fist. "Why?" he asked, exasperated.
He looked up with hope in his eyes. "Because I'm beginning to remember. I remember her."
Molly was hesitant at first when John first rang her. She was at her mom's house and still sounded quite shaken. But it was Molly and, for better or worse, she was just as loyal to Sherlock as John.
Somehow she was the key to his memories. Bits were coming back and it needed to be encouraged. Molly came to the hospital under an hour after he called dressed in clothes more suitable to a garden party than a medical visit. She had blush and bright blue eye shadow that matched the flowers on her dress.
The bruise on the side of her face had been covered in layers of foundation and concealer but the cover-up barely hid the damage that Sherlock had done.
"You look…" John began.
She self-consciously crossed her arms. "Mum had friends over. She wanted me to look nice for dinner. You don't think it's too much?"
John shook his head. "Absolutely not. You look wonderful."
She smiled but he could see that her hands were shaking.
"Molly…" he said.
She looked up at him and her eyes were wide with anxiety. "Yeah?"
"You don't need to go in. You don't have to."
"No," she said, "I should. You said that I should. It'll help him remember?"
"Yeah, but, if it's too hard."
She nodded. "I know."
John walked in first and led Molly in with a firm hand on her back. It was the utmost selfishness that she was here right now. No one, especially John, should ask someone else to do something so difficult. She had been through a trauma not 48 hours before and now she was face to face with her attacker.
He didn't leave her side. Deep down, he was just as scared of Sherlock as Molly but he couldn't show it. If he showed it, then he'd have to admit that there was more to Sherlock than he ever could have imagined.
Sherlock didn't say anything as Molly walked in the room. He looked at her with a serene calmness—as nonthreatening a pose as he could muster.
"You look well," Molly said quietly.
John waited for Sherlock to say something but yet there was silence.
Typical.
Molly wrung her hands together. "What was it that you wanted to say?"
Sherlock tilted his head just slightly and his eyes shifted to the side of her head. To the bruise.
"Molly…" he muttered.
Her eyes lit up. "Yeah?"
He gestured to his own head. "Did I?"
She lifted a hand to cover the bruise. "It's fine," she said.
Sherlock clenched his hands. "I did that to you?"
"You didn't mean to," she muttered.
John stepped in his closer to Molly, ready to take her out of the room.
Sherlock shook his head. "No. Molly. You don't deserve this. Any of this."
Molly looked back towards John to decipher.
"I remember," he said, "how I treated you. It's not all there but bits of it are. When we were in the lab and I would keep you for hours. I demanded so much of you…"
"You needed the help," she said.
Sherlock shut his eyes. "I used you."
"Oh no…" she said.
"I did."
Molly dabbed a tear from her eye. "I wanted to stay."
"I didn't even ask," he said. "I just took. I took from everyone. That's why they all leave."
Sherlock lay his head in his hands.
"Sherlock," John began to say but Molly laid a hand on him to keep him back. She walked towards Sherlock's bed and sat on the edge near his feet.
"I wanted to stay, do you understand?" she said.
Sherlock didn't respond. Every part of his body was tensed to the point of snapping. There was no telling how many memories had flooded back.
"I could have left. You would have been fine."
She lay a hand on his ankle and squeezed. John had never seen her so at ease.
"I wanted to be near you," she said.
Sherlock's hands lowered just a bit. "What?"
"I just wanted to spend time with you. I…liked spending time with you."
John wanted to shake Sherlock as it felt like it took him a lifetime to connect the dots all the while poor Molly sat with her heart on her sleeve.
"Oh," he said.
She got to her feet and regained the anxiety in her entire body. Sherlock, even vulnerable and open, wasn't receptive to her feelings.
"Yeah," she said. "So…"
She turned towards John with pleading eyes. It was their cue to leave.
As they neared the door, Sherlock called out. "Molly, wait."
"What?" she asked. There were already tears in her eyes.
"I…liked spending time with you as well."
John cocked his head just to make sure he wasn't hearing things.
"Yeah?"
Sherlock nodded. "I could have gone to any lab."
She smiled. "I figured as much. I always wondered."
"I'm sorry…for…" he gestured towards his forehead.
"Thank you," she said.
John gestured towards the door. "Shall we go?"
She nodded. "See you around?"
"Absolutely," Sherlock said.