Assessment

Riiiiiiing... Riiiiiiing... Riiiiiiing... It swarmed around the dormant house and through Sherlock's frozen mind. Itching and scratching at the front of his mind whether to answer or not. He knew of course it would be John calling to wish his beloved sister a Happy New Year and that he'll pop 'round in the morning with Emily to have some breakfast and a catch-up before dinner. Sherlock knew exactly who would be growing concerned and would eventually tip up unannounced at the front door.
"Hello?" His voice stiffled tears down the reciever,
"S-Sherlock? What're you doing answering the phone?" John laughed. From the call, it was like John was walking. The wind crackled through the microphone and straight into Sherlock's ear.
"John..." Sherlock muttered and took a deep inhale of breath, his gaze flickering over to the body on the couch. Eyes still open and full of tears, hands empty.
"Happy New Year, but put Vic on!" John laughed and he could hear Mary's chuckle from beside him,
"John! Listen to me..." Sherlock snapped, "You have to come here... You have to come here n-now. Now, please, John."
"Sherlock, what the bloody hell is going on!? Put my sister on!"
"JOHN! It's serious! Get here!" And the phone was slammed down to the end table. Crawling back over to her, Sherlock sniffed back more tears and eagerly awaited John's arrival. Unaware of what to do, Sherlock watched her. Gladstone sighed and whimpered still on her lap, refusing to move whenever Sherlock would try and push him away with the back of his hand. By the minute, her hands grew colder and the tears in her eyes seemed to fall on her accord. Like she was still there. She was crying herself. Slowly, Sherlock let his head rest on the arm of the sofa with his hands encasing hers once more. His eyes slipped shut and the cold air puffed from Gladstone's nose stiffened his hands. He allowed himself to breathe a deep sigh of relief, knowing, that her fight was finished. Her struggle had ended, but his was just starting.

"Sherlock?" John shouted through the letterbox impatiently, "Sherlock? We're here! What's the matter? Open the door." He demanded but Sherlock couldn't bring himself to leave her company. "Right," He heard John sigh and unzip his coat pocket. In an instant, Sherlock was on his feet and dragging himself towards the front door, pulling chains and dropping chains. The door slid open and he welcomed them both into the flickering amber of the home,
"By God, Sherlock! You look a bit grey around the gills! Something the matter?" Mary smiled and gave him a tight cuddle and a peck on the cheek, "Happy New Year!" She said.
"Oh, God..." John breathed quietly, "Oh, Je- Sherloc- Oh..." John's breath wavered into the air and his legs carried him over to his sister on the couch, "Victoria," He rasped but there was no reply. Mary rushed in behind John to see about his despair as Sherlock stood idly by at the doorframe, the shadows completely enveloping him as he watched on. John's cries filled the entirety of the house, echoing and bouncing from wall to wall befor ebeing eaten up by the crackle of the firewood. He had his arms cradling her and he was seemingly rocking her gently as though to try and wake her,
"Sherlock, what happened?" Mary looked up with tears in her eyes and a hand on John's knee from where he crouched. Sherlock was silent and his throat stuttered out sounds before a coherent sentence was made,
"She said she wasn't feeling very well- I was going to take her out for the bells, so... so she sat, fell asleep and just didn't... wake up," He lied and remained hidden in the dark, "I was going to call Molly and have her assess-"
"Assess her?! She is my sister, Sherlock! She isn't some case you would work on and disect, Sherlock! She will not be assessed!"
"John, please-" Mary whispered and tried to calm down an inconsolable John but he remained at his sister's side,
"People don't just die, Sherlock." John huffed and pressed his forehead to his sister's, "You were too young... You were..." John started to weep and Mary slowly edged towards Sherlock,
"Maybe it's best you leave him to it... Call Molly. I don't think John would want a scene to be made so maybe we could take her to Molly ourselves? Get to the bottom of it maybe? I don't really know, Sherlock. Just do what you can, as quietly as you can. For John's sake. Please." Mary squeezed him tight and sighed, "I know what she meant to you. Do it for her, too."

The fluorescent lights flickered on in the laboratory of St Bart's Hospital. A single stool was scraped across the linoleum floors and Sherlock Holms sat adjacent to his long term friend, Molly. Rage boiled within him. His jaw would clench and unclench and his eyes would stare hard at the ground.
"Sherlock, what do you want me to tell John?" Molly squeaked from across the work-bench. There was silence. She sipped at her tea in hope for a reply but all she could notice was the anger rising. The regret and the hatred. She thought it best to use his anger against him. After all, they were against the clock. "Sherlock Holmes! You tell me what you want John to know! Tell me what you want me to say! She will be coming in here any minute with John-" She almost shouted and in an instant, his head sharply turned. His eyes seen red and he stood like a slowly engorging dragon over bearing on the bench,
"I don't know! Molly, I don't know what you want me to say! Do what you have to do to make John alright!" He hollered back, "And for God sake, Victoria has a name! Use her name!" He shouted and with a quick motion of his strong left hand, his coffee mug met the cold tile floor. Molly flinched as he sharply stormed off, grabbing his jacket and slamming the door behind him. Her face fell cold and she swallowed a lump of anger in her throat before commencing behind Sherlock in the darkness. But by the time she reached the door, he was gone. Vanished as though into thin air.
Her feet were quick down the corridors to the morgue where she was greeted by a frantic John with Victoria lying in his arms. Mary stood beside him, her face completely wonderstruck. John pushed his way into the morgue and Mary approached Molly, a hand resting on her shoulder,
"W-Where's Sherlock? He should be here..."
"He ran off. I don't know where and I don't know why. But could you, maybe, phone Lestrade? See if maybe he could have people out looking? I'll let Mycroft come adn find him in his own time. I just think if we find him quickly, we'll save a whole lot of time and trouble..." Molly panted out in fear and Mary nodded, accepting the task of finding Sherlock.

Molly followed John into the cold, insitutional-grey tiled room. He was hovering over her body which was draped in a fine blanket but was still dressed in her finest black dress. "John... If there's anything else I can d-"
"Just find out why my little sister dropped dead. Please, Molly. Just find that out." He firmly stated and brushed back Victoria's hair from her gaunt face, "I'll be right outside..." John said weakly and pushed through the swinging doors to lean on the wall opposite. Molly looked on at Victoria, her jealousy and envy melting into but whisps of air as she paid her respects silently. Afterward, with great delicacy, Victoria was wheeled into the back room where Molly covered her respectfully and took a seat at the computer. Obviously, she knew there had to be two certificates. One for John's verification. The other for the rest of the world. She click-clacked on the keys, filling in the two seperate causes of death. One reading SADS and the other; Stage Four Brain Cancer. Molly was hesitant in signing them both but knew, of course, it had to be done. For a long while, Molly sat on the chair, watching the body beneath the sheet, fooling John into believing she was running test and scans and x-rays. Her watch ticked across to five minutes past two and she pushed herself through to the door where John was still standing. He immediately stood to attention and took the death certificate from Molly's hand. He went over the words aloud to make it seem more real, "Time of death; 0002 on Thursday the first of January 2015... Right, right, okay... Cause of death;... Right. Okay... Alright..." His voice started to break at the words on the page Molly knew to be false but it was Victoria's own wish that John never knew. He nodded furiously at the paper and looked to Molly, "Can I see her again?" He whimpered.
"O-Of course... I'll bring her back through for you." Molly agreed and allowed John to follow her back inside. Although her back was to him as she wheeled Victoria back through, his gasping sobs and piercing sighs struck Molly deep in her heart.