I finally updated! Sorry for the long wait, I was sick and then school started and then I was sick again and then I have to do college crap and figure out what I want to do with my life so that was that. So I'm sorry if this chapter isn't that good. I have had this idea in my head since the beginning of the story and I needed to put it down, and I wanted to update sooner than later, and yeah. So, enjoy this chapter and tell me what you think!
There comes a time in everyone's life where they dread that one day. Usually it's dying, or your parents dying, or finding out you have cancer. Not for Molly Hooper.
The past two weeks were a drag, slowly coming to that one day. The day where she had to stand in front of Tom and a room full of strangers and tell them in detail what he had done to her repeatedly for the past six months.
Even now, laying in Sherlock's bed, having no motivation to get up she could feel her stomach churn. For a good few seconds she thought if it was worth it to actually get up. As she relished in the silence she let her imagination run free. Her mind drifted to the first time she met Sherlock in the morgue.
"You're wrong." A voice she didn't recognize echoed through the morgue. Molly's head immediately popped up as she stared at the slim figure that lingered in the doorway.
"I'm not wrong," she muttered, becoming slightly unconfident as she stared at the handsome figure who looked around the morgue. "I can't be wrong. I've ran this test a dozen times, it can't be wrong."
"It's obvious," the tall figure strode over to her "Notice the bruising on the lower hips? It's obviously postmortem. You do know what postmortem is right?"'
"Who do you think you are?" Molly asked as she looked down at the body. "And why do you think it's postmortem? Just because there is bruising doesn't mean it happened after-"
"These bruises," he pointed at the hip interrupting Molly. "Notice how they are lighter than the bruising up here." He pointed to the woman's chest with the bruising a dark blue and purple color. "These are a lot darker than the ones on her hip, clearly the marks happened postmortem. You guess it was domestic abuse, right?"
Molly let out a sigh as she looked up at the tall man. "Yes," she looked back down at the ugly colored floor.
"Why did they even let you in the morgue? You should not be qualified to be around dead people if you don't know what clearly the result of a car crash and you don't know what postmortem is."
Molly was holding back tears as she looked up at the man, only this time the face was different, it wasn't the soft face of a man who just says hurtful things without meaning to, no. This face was different. The eyes were dark with all means of hurt.
Without thinking Molly took a step back and immediately she felt rough hands rest on her hips.
"Oh sweetie, where do you think you're going?" The soft undertone voice muttered as Tom pulled her closer.
Molly rested her hands on top of his and let her fingernails dig into his skin and before she could think she could feel her body hit the wall with a great force as she slumped to the ground.
"You think you are better than me?" Tom towered over her as Molly brings her knees up to her chest.
"I-I'm sorry -" Molly whimpered.
"Hey."
Molly's eyes flashed oped when she realized that the voice wasn't Tom's. She looked around before giving a sigh of relief. "S-Sorry."
"Molly, don't apologize." It was Sherlock, his curly hair was wet and he held a plastic bag in one of his hands. "I shouldn't have left you alone, I thought you were asleep."
"I-I can be left alone, it uh, it was just a nightmare."
"Molly, this is the third time in two nights that you've woken up screaming. I want what is best for you."
Molly ran her fingers through her long hair and looked down at the bag Sherlock was holding. "What do you have there?" She asked, trying to change the subject.
Sherlock put the bag down on the coffee table in front of her and pulled out an even smaller bag. "I figured you were getting tired of my cooking so I got you a cinnamon roll from down the street. Also," he dug his hand back into the bag and pulled out a box of tea bags. "We were out of coffee, and I know you like tea more than coffee, so I got some green tea."
Before long, Sherlock was back in the kitchen putting a kettle on the oven. "Today is the day, Molly." She heard Sherlock say from the kitchen. "The day where this son of a bitch will never be able to touch you again."
. . .
It really wasn't that bad staying with Sherlock. Sure, he was a slob, but he really cared for Molly and did everything he could to make her safe. Today was different. She couldn't hide her bruises from Sherlock and she had to tell a room full of strangers what Tom had done to her.
Molly was laying in Sherlock's bed with the blanket over her head. She had been waiting for this day for who knows how long, and now, she didn't even want to leave the flat.
There was a soft knock at the door which made Molly jump slightly. "C-Come in."
"Molly," it was John's voice, she felt the bed dip down with his weight suddenly on the bed. "I know you are scared, but listen to me. There is no way he can win this. You have to remember that."
Those words sunk in and you know, he was right. He had beaten Molly for far too long and it was time she did something about it and not just sit around and mope all day.
"B-But what if he's found not guilty?" Molly asked, bringing her head up from under the blanket.
"Sherlock and I will do everything to prove that he is."
. . .
They had been waiting in the lobby for the last thirty minutes. Molly had made her claim and showed her bruises all the while describing in detail what she had gone through. Luckily John was with her because in the middle of her claim Sherlock had stormed out of the room.
"You know Sherlock, Molly. It probably wasn't anything personal." John had said the minute they left the courtroom so the jury could make their decision. John and Molly hadn't really talked since then, although Molly was keeping a strong hold of John's hand.
"What do you think is taking them so long?" Molly finally asked as she resisted the temptation to get up and storm into the courtroom.
"They all have to make a unanimous decision. So there is probably that one bloke who is trying to persuade everyone. It'll be fine, Molly. All will be fine."
Another fifteen minutes had gone by before the courtroom doors had opened and they were told to come in.
As both Molly and John sat down Molly could feel her fingernails digging into John's skin, something hat she had picked up quite recently. "Sorry," she quickly mumbled not knowing if she had hurt him or not.
"Has the jury reached a verdict?" The gray haired judged asked while he sat back in his chair, waiting for the answer.
A large female with long read hair stood up and cleared her throat as she looked down at the paper before her. "The jury has decided that Thomas Birch is not guilty."
Those words rang through Molly's ears as she looked over at the man who had hurt her so much as the police officers slowly dug into his pants to find the keys to release Tom.
