Well this is more of a happy chapter. Well not necessarily happy, but happier than last chapter. Hope y'all enjoy and favorite and comment and whatever you do.
"Sh-Sherlock?" The voice on the other line stammered. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, in concern.
"Molly? Is that you?" Sherlock asked. "Why are you calling me this late at night? It is 11 o'clock, are you having trouble with reports?"
There was silence for a few seconds before she spoke again. "I-I'm sorry." It was a quiet tone she spoke with, almost gentle it seemed.
"Why are you sorry?" He asked, actual concern in his voice as he clutched the phone closer to his ear.
"F-For calling so late, I h-had no idea…" Her voice trailed off, there was something she wanted to tell him, he could tell. But he wasn't quite sure what she was hiding.
"What are you hiding from me, Molly?" The question stayed in the air, and he could feel the tension, he imagined her mouth opening and closing a few times to try and determine how to phrase it.
"T-Tom," she said after a few seconds of silence. "I uh, Sherlock. I've been lying to you for a long time…" Why was she saying this? Was he going to mad? A thousand different ideas ran through her head as she figured out the right way to word this. "I-I l-love Tom, I-I really do. B-But he hurts me."
Sherlock listened to her words carefully as he quickly picked up his coat and headed out of the car and hailed a taxi. "Molly, keep talking. I'm guessing you're at your flat, am I right? Also, he probably left for the night, seeing how you wouldn't call if he was around. Stay on the phone with me, I am sending a quick text to John to meet me at Baker Street, okay?" He took his ear away from the phone and quickly sent a text to John simply saying 'Baker street, immediately. SH'
Once Sherlock found a cab he nearly barked the address and brought the phone to his ear. "Molly, are you still there?" He asked as he listened intently on the phone, needing something. A sound, her cat meowing, anything to tell him that she was still there.
"Oh my god, Sherlock!" Molly nearly cried into the phone.
"What? What? What is going on, Molly?" His hands clutched onto his phone, trying to calm himself.
"I didn't know… I thought I was drunk… I thought," Sherlock's heart started beating faster. What had he done to his little pathologist? The pathologist that was so sweet that couldn't hurt a fly. "It was Rohypnol. He spiked my drink because I didn't want to have sex with him."
Sherlock could feel his heart hit the floor. He couldn't force a word out, this was one of those times Sherlock Holmes was literally at a loss of words. "Molly, I'm coming. Don't move, where exactly are you in your flat?"
"I-I'm in the bathroom," he could hear the tears dripping down her cheek as she tried to stay strong. "Everything is locked, the front door, th-the bathroom door."
Once the cab rounded the corner to her flat Sherlock barked at the cabbie to stay where he was and not move until he came out again. "Molly, I'm at your flat and I'm going to hang up so don't be surprised." Before she could protest the other line was dead.
Molly was on the cold bathroom floor, waiting for Sherlock to come through to the rescue, but at the same time, she was scared. Scared for his reaction. Molly heard the front door and she jumped and put her knees up to her chest and wrapped her hands around them, almost protecting herself from Sherlock, even though she knew he wouldn't hurt her she couldn't help but stay cautious.
"Molly?" She heard a voice call gently.
"I-I'm in here," Moly croaked, and heard the door to the bathroom open slightly. Standing in the door was the tall man with the curls that she loved more than she ever loved Tom.
"Are you alright?" Sherlock carefully made his way over to her and leaned down in front of her, making sure there was a fair amount of distance between them.
Molly looked down at the small amount of space between them and crawled a little back, even though he wouldn't hurt her Molly couldn't be too careful.
Sherlock must have noticed the fidgeting and he raised his hands in the air as if warning her that he wouldn't hurt her. "Molly, I have no intention of hurting you. I just want you to know that."
Molly's eyes were to the ground as she gave a small nod. "Sh-Sherlock, I-I'm sorry." She admitted. What was she sorry about? Sorry that it was the middle of the night and she needed her? Sorry that she was stupid for loving Tom?
"Don't say that, Molly. You did nothing wrong." Very slowly Sherlock stood up from the ground and stretched an arm out for Molly. "I'm going to take you back to Baker Street and we are going to get through this together."
Molly looked at his hand for a minute before slowly taking it and pulling herself up. What was she doing? Leaving her fiancé? Oh god, what was he going to do when he got home and she wasn't here? "I-I'm scared," Molly admitted as she came face to face with Sherlock, he had a blank expression on his face, he was probably hiding how pissed off he was.
"Sh, it's okay. I'm here." Sherlock's eyes glanced over her, and noted how broken his Molly was. His pathologist. Who would hurt her this bad where she couldn't even stand without leaning on a counter. "There is a cab out front. Is it okay if I put a hand around you?" He warned, he didn't want to scare her more.
"Y-Yeah." Was Sherlock Holmes actually going to put an arm around her? Something she had always wished for? But not necessarily the circumstances she wanted them under. As they both exited the bathroom Sherlock loosely put his arm around her waist, trying to keep her standing up. Before they could even make it out of Molly's flat, Sherlock could feel Molly pressing her body on his for support.
"Do you want me to pick you up, Molly?" Sherlock asked and his question was returned with a small hum. "You must be tired," He smiled as put his other hand under her knees and carefully pulled her up to him.
"Rough night." She simply stated as she cuddled into his chest. God, this was nice. Tom never cuddled, and she needed the comfort right now.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked as he carefully walked down the steps and into the cabbie, carefully placing Molly in it first before climbing in after her. He noticed how Molly quickly made sure there was room between them, and he didn't care, he didn't want to intrude and do something that made her uncomfortable.
"I… I'm sorry." Molly was looking out of the window and she could tell Sherlock was keeping a protective eye on her.
"What are you sorry for?" He pressed, as he tried to deduce all the injuries that were under her baggy clothing. Surely it had to be something that caused intense pain, or else she would have worn just regular clothing.
"L-Look at the time, Sh-Sherlock. It's almost midnight on a Wednesday and…" What was she sorry for? Hiding this? Having an insane boyfriend who took out his anger on her? She really wasn't quite sure.
Sherlock listened to her drone on for the duration of the ride, every once in awhile she would say 'Sorry' and Sherlock would quickly dismiss it saying she didn't need to be sorry. As they slowly came up to a stop on Baker Street Sherlock quickly paid the cabbie and opened the door for Molly and slowly carried her up to 221B.
As he opened the door to 221B he found John pacing the room. "Give me a second," he whispered as he went straight into his room and softly placed Molly on his bed. "Molly, go to sleep, I'll be in the other room." Sherlock unfolded a blanket that was sitting on the edge of his bed and loosely wrapped it around her.
She looked so vulnerable asleep in his bed. Sherlock looked down at his hands, how could someone punch her over and over and over again? How could someone hit her when she could barely stand up for herself? Sherlock could feel his hands shaking in anger and he quietly made his way out of his room, leaving the door open a crack, in case she woke up and wanted to talk.
Sherlock carefully made his way into the living room, his head down as he plopped down on the couch, not caring what John was thinking. After a few more minutes of silence John cleared his throat and Sherlock looked up at him.
"So, Molly Hooper?" John questioned as he sat down next to his best friend.
"John," Sherlock's voice cracked as he kept his head down, not wanting John to see him breaking. "He hurt her." Abruptly Sherlock stood up from the couch and started pacing.
"Who did? And what do you mean they hurt her?" John questioned, Sherlock never gave him enough information and he always had to ask more than he wanted to.
"Her stupid fiancé." Sherlock mumbled as he ran his hand through his hair. What was he going to do? "God damnit, he hurt her, John. She's broken. She's not the smiling pathologist that I came to see everyday. I knew something was wrong. I just knew it, but I thought it was stress?" I was wrong. I was wrong. Wrong! Those words rang through Sherlock's head, the one time that he was wrong it had to be the most important thing that he had to deal with.
John slowly made his way off of the couch and next to Sherlock, putting his hands on his shoulders and making him look down to him. "Sherlock, I knew something was wrong too. She said it was just Toby and the stress of the wedding. We were both wrong. But I'm going to tell you something, you need to stay calm for her. How bad are her injuries, do you know?"
"Bruises all over, I don't know. I didn't really get to see much, she's wearing baggy clothing and I don't want to press it."
John looked over at the closed door and lowered his voice slightly. "Can you remember anything? Any bruises you saw or anything?" John pressed, he hated how he was asking Sherlock this, but he needed to know if there was any serious injuries that he needed to tend.
"Bruises were the normal color, she was very finicky I think there were more injuries than she was letting on…" Something hit him and he hung his head. "Rohypnol. He put Rohypnol in her drink when she wouldn't sleep with him." Sherlock tore away from John's and paced again. "I'm going to kill him," he muttered his voice low and deadly.
"Sherlock," John stepped in front of him before he could go anywhere. "Molly is here, she is safe. When she wakes up she's going to need you. You need to stay here when she wakes up and we'll go from there."
Sherlock forced himself to look over at his bedroom door and then sat on the couch, his fingers making a steeple under his chin as he thought. "Now we wait."
