England Would Fall.
Sherlock was out of town when he heard that his beloved landlady had passed away. He and John were working a fairly difficult case, an eight, and had left Molly, Rosie, and Mrs. Hudson to tend to business in their absence.
He and John were in the process of following a rather promising lead when Sherlocks phone buzzed in his coat pocket with a call from Molly.
Molly knew not to contact Sherlock on a case unless it was absolutely necessary, and he quickly deduced that something must have gone horribly wrong back in London for her to be making the call.
"Sherlock, you need to return to London right away." She had started, without even so much as a 'hello'. "Mycroft is sending a helicopter to get you from the Inn."
By the sound of her voice she had been crying, had only just put herself together enough to make the call. Crying wasn't unusual for Molly, especially given the fact she was five months pregnant and was experiencing a whole barrage of emotions. But the edge to her voice, as if she was approaching a dangerous animal, was what made him truly pause what he was doing and pay attention to what she was saying.
"The baby?" He asked before his brain could deduce any further, his chest aching at the thought of something happening to Molly or their child.
"No…no. We're okay. It's…" She paused, a sob echoing through the small phone speaker. "It's probably better to tell you in person."
"I am not hanging up until you tell me what has happened." He snapped. "It's not Rosie, because you would have called John. It can't be Mrs. Hudson she was fine when we left. It's not Mycroft, you said he's the one sending the helicopter. It can't be Greg, I spoke to him half an hour ago and he was fine. That leaves my parents, but I don't see why Mycroft isn't the one contacting me."
"No, Sherlock. You're parents are fine. It's Martha. She's…Oh God. She's passed away Sherlock."
Time seemed to freeze for the detective as he immediately retreated into his mind palace. He visited the last time he had seen the trusty landlady. It had been three days ago when he and John had left for Cardiff. She had brought them a pot of tea and asked them to be safe. Her hands had been as steady as they could be for a woman of her age. Her eyes clear, except for the left eye in which she had a cataract. She had been the pinnacle of health. She was not sick.
Sherlock ran through all of the possible causes of death he could think of. It couldn't have been a car related injury as she barely left the apartment building these days. Wasn't cancer, he would have noticed the signs. Couldn't have been-
"Sherlock, Sweetheart? Are you there?" Molly's voice pulled the detective from his own mind and once again he was staring at a curious-looking John.
"How?" He had asked, voice strained, trying to keep the overwhelming emotion at bay.
"From what I could see before they came and took her body…it was cardiac arrest. There'll be an autopsy done by Dr. Caldwell. Mycroft has asked for them to speed it up a bit, but we might not know for sure until tomorrow."
"I'll see you as soon as we return to London…stay safe." With that the detective hung up and placed his phone back into his coat pocket.
"What was that about?" John asked. "What's happened?"
"England…Jonh." Sherlock whispered. "England has fallen."
