"Sherlock!" Molly's voice rang in his ears. He closed his eyes, allowing the darkness to vibrate inside of him. "Sherlock!" Molly said again. He finally opened one of his eyes, staring at Molly. "Please leave me alone," he said. "I want to see," she insisted, and finally Sherlock had listened. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. He sucked in air sharply as she ran her hands over the thick scars forming on his ribcage. "I don't get why you want to see… this," Sherlock said. Molly winced as she touched a particularly deep cut. "I want to see all the times you've needed me that I wasn't there for you," she replied, and then Sherlock knew. Deep down, he had always known, but now he knew for certain just who Molly Grace Hooper was.
"Molly!" Sherlock bellowed. Molly's eyes found his one last time, and, for one beautiful second, she looked at him. Then time started to speed up and Molly crumpled to the ground.
"Molly!" Sherlock shouted again. Carter laughed as he dove to the ground and lifted Molly's head. Blood slowly trickled from the bullet wound, making it appear much less deadly than it actually was. "Molly," Sherlock said softly, and bent forward to press his lips against her forehead.
"Now you know, Holmes," said Carter, and Sherlock looked at him. Carter walked over to Molly's fallen body and put all his weight on one of her legs. It snapped, and Molly's eyes didn't even open. "There you go," grinned Carter. "Now you know." Sherlock glared at him and managed to say, "She's safe. Your wife. Your children. They're safe. They left you to be safe. I saved their lives… and you ruined mine."
Carter wasn't smiling now. "I've got to kill you," said Sherlock, but he didn't move. "I've got to kill you like you've killed me. My family will never be safe." "Of course not," said Carter humorlessly. "I don't believe for a second that you'll kill me, though. Not here, not in front of all these people, not with the same weapon that killed her." Carter motioned to Molly's form on the ground.
Sherlock turned back to her and took her hand. "Molly," he mumbled, tracing the hole on her head. "Molly," he said, and a single tear landed on her face. To Sherlock's surprise, a hand weakly squeezed his own. His eyes flew open and he wrenched his hand from hers, nearly jumping in anticipation as he took her pulse.
"Oh," came the voice from behind him, and Sherlock turned to see Lestrade standing there. "Brooklyn?" he asked, and his voice came out an octave higher than usual. Lestrade nodded. "Donovan's got her," he said. Sherlock nodded towards Molly. "She's alive. Get an ambulance here. NOW!"
Sherlock sat Molly up and leaned her against the wall, applying gentle pressure to the wound. "Molly," he said to her. "Molly." Molly didn't respond, and Sherlock leaned his head against the wall.
"How is she alive?" asked Lestrade, back from his phone call. Sherlock didn't move his eyes from Molly as he spoke. "The human brain is much like an aeroplane with twin engines," he said. "The plane can tolerate with only one of it's engines for a short amount of time. Carter was a lousy shot, he made the mistake of shooting from the back rather than the side. The bullet, rather than going straight through both halves."
Sherlock bent forward to press his hand against the side of Molly's ashen face. "The bullet also appears to have missed the brain stem and the thalamus, and, hopefully, the major blood vessels." Lestrade nodded. "Yeah," he said. Sherlock sighed and went back to whispering to Molly.
"Molly," he said. "You remember that time, all those years ago, when you first realised that I was on drugs?" Lestrade, still standing behind him, scoffed. "Yes, the last thing the dying patient will hear is 'Remember when I did drugs?' " Sherlock glared at him. "She won't die," he promised.
Lestrade fell silent, and Sherlock continued. "You said to me, 'I want to know all the times you've needed me that I wasn't there for you,' and I didn't want to show you anything. I didn't want you to get sucked into it. But when I looked at you, I could tell that it was too late on that front."
Molly's finger twitched. " 'I want to know all the times you've needed me,' you said," Sherlock said. "And I couldn't admit that I needed you every hour of every day. I couldn't admit it because I knew that if I told you that, you'd never leave my side, and I didn't want to be selfish. So I left."
Sherlock paused here, as though looking for the words he knew he needed to say. "I left, thinking it would be the best thing for you, and 'look at me, I'm such a hero, giving up everything I desire for her own good,' when, in reality, I killed you." Sherlock took a deep breath. "And if you die, you'll have killed me," he said softly, rocking back and forth.
He could hear the ambulance sirens, and a sudden flashback of that fateful day nearly four years ago.
"Don't do it, Molly," and she stepped over the edge. She was being loaded into the ambulance by the time he reached her, and all he could think was, "How could I have done this? How could I have broken her?" and among those questions there lay a million more, a million questions that, had she died, never would be answered. And then she went away, and he saw her about six times in the next four years."
"I never got to ask you," Sherlock whispered in her ear. "But, Molly Hooper, I don't want you to have the opportunity to go away again." He took a deep breath. "I want to know that if I don't get to say something important to you, I'll have another chance the next day, because you'll always be there."
He smiled a little bit as Molly squeezed his hand. "So," he continued, "Being the selfish git I always am, thinking only of having you to myself until death do we part…" He looked at the pale body bleeding onto his coat. "Molly Hooper, if you live through this, will you marry me?"
Author's Note:
Just like Sherlock to propose to someone on their deathbed! I'm sorry I didn't update sooner, I got home from class today and pretty much just collapsed. I'm somewhat ill. I'm hoping that I won't wake up tomorrow and think, "What did I write in my delirium?" only to discover that I shot Molly or had Sherlock propose or something crazy like that!
Oh. My. Gosh.
I shot Molly.