Hey you ;)
so, here I am with my next story :)
After I'm unfortunately forced to stay in bed and watch one of my favorite series again, I came to an idea.
I was watching one of my favorite episodes and at some point I asked myself what would have happened if Sherlock hadn't asked Molly for her help?
And then I got the idea to rewrite the whole thing :D
I don't have an idea yet where it will go but I can tell you one thing, it will be a Sherolly story again ;)
And now I wish you a lot of fun reading and of course I would be happy if you would tell me what you think about it ;)
Molly was just sitting comfortably with a cup of coffee at her friends' breakfast table.
After all this drama with Jim, or rather Moriarty, that shameful Christmas party at Baker Street, and Sherlock in general, she just wanted to get away. Get out of London.
She had often thought about just taking a vacation, but could never really bring herself to do it. Most of the time it was because of a certain detective who demanded her help. But this time it was different. After Sherlock once again rebuffed her and wasn't willing to open up to her, at least a little, she knew she had to get out of there. It wasn't that she was surprised that he reacted that way. After all, this is Sherlock Holmes we're talking about. But the thought of him still not trusting her after all these years depressed her.
So, without further ado, she packed her things and headed off to York for a surprise visit to her friend Rebecca from college days. It wasn't so much a surprise visit as an escape. Escape from this emotional pain that was gradually constricting her chest and causing her heart to shatter into tiny little pieces.
Rebecca was her roommate back in medical school and quickly became one of her best friends. Molly didn't really care much for friendships back then. She had been betrayed and hurt too many times in her past. She found it hard to trust but Rebecca, yes Rebecca was different. One could almost say that they shared the same suffering. After some initial skepticism on both sides, they slowly developed a friendship that lasted until today and became stronger than ever. Molly stood by her when she lost her brother in a tragic accident and Rebecca was by her side when her father died. And even though their paths then went in different directions after graduation, they still stood by each other and kept in regular contact. So Rebecca also knew about the certain detective and also about Molly's feelings towards him.
She spent many nights on the phone with him crying about his past humiliations towards her.
Her friend kept offering to come over and spend a few days away from London with her and her boyfriend Oliver, but Molly kept refusing. The reason she gave was that it wouldn't be feasible due to her current work situation. Too much downtime. But her heart had another reason. Molly didn't want to let Sherlock down.
But after that one day at the lab, she was beginning to doubt whether she could take it any longer. She remembered that Sherlock was once again analyzing some samples and that it had something to do with her ex-boyfriend Jim. She shuddered at the thought. She still couldn't believe that she had gotten involved with a psychopath who would later turn out to be the criminal mastermind of all. Then she remembered Sherlock's sad look and how she approached him about it. He seemed surprised but still couldn't trust himself to open up. She didn't know why, but the look in his eyes and his subsequent expressions hurt her. She realized she had crossed a line and was uncomfortable continuing to be in the same room with him. She had known Sherlock for several years now but never had she seen such an expression in his eyes. That look of concern, guilt and despair. She knew those feelings were for a certain person and she felt a tinge of jealousy that it wasn't her. It was John. The helpful, kind, empathetic John who seemed to be slowly breaking through to the Sherlock Holmes machine. As many times as she tried over the years, she couldn't. And that, in the end, only hurt her more. Sherlock just didn't trust her.
Molly heaved a deep sigh and had to slowly blink away the tears that were beginning to gather in her eyes with all her might after she remembered.
"Good morning did you sleep?" asked Rebecca as she entered the room.
Molly startled out of her thoughts before turning to her friend and looking at her with a soft smile.
"Quite well, thank you. Only it was quite a short night" she moaned lightly now, rubbing her head.
"Headache?" Rebecca then asked with a mischievous grin as she glanced at Molly.
Molly didn't reply anything but just nodded slightly.
"Who was that guy yesterday who kept trying to call you?" she then asked as she grabbed a cup from the top shelf and poured herself some coffee as well.
And then Molly remembered that her phone had rung off and on yesterday. She had just decided not to answer it. After all, she was at her best friend's engagement party and didn't want to have to fret over anything.
Carefully rising from her chair, she walked over to her bag and dug out her phone. When she unlocked it she couldn't believe what she saw. On it were several missed calls from John and Greg, as well as more messages from John and Greg.
She hadn't told anyone about her short vacation. They probably wanted something from her about work, she thought to herself.
Rebecca, who by now had made herself comfortable on the couch in the living room with her mug, turned on the TV while Molly slowly opened her messages. The first message was a voicemail.
Thursday,6:26PM
Hi Molly. This is John. Please call me back as soon as possible. I really need to talk to you.
Then follow up with four more messages from him.
Thursday, 7:34PM
Hello Molly. Where are you? I need to speak to you urgently. John
Thursday, 7:53PM
Molly? Where are you? It's really urgent!
Thursday, 9:38PM
Are you all right? Please call me. I need to talk to you. It's about Sherlock!
Thursday, 11:05PM
MOLLY?! Where the hell are you? I'm worried.
And last but not least, there was a voicemail from Greg on her phone. She was starting to worry about what had happened and especially what was going on with Sherlock. With slightly shaky fingers she pressed the button and listened to the message.
Friday, 07:34
Hello Molly. This is Greg. John is with me and is worried. We can't reach you or find you. We really need to talk to you. So call back as soon as you hear this.
'What is all this about? And why is John so worried? And what about Sherlock?" Molly then wondered as she scrolled through her messages again and again.
"Hey Molly! What was your detective's name again?" a voice sounded from the living room.
Molly continued to stare at her screen, gradually feeling a pang of anxiety. Over and over she read through the messages from John.
"Molly?" it shouted again. Now the voice sounded slightly worried.
Completely lost in thought, she shook her head slightly before turning to face the voice.
"Sorry. His name is Sherlock Holmes and Rebecca, he's not MY detective!" shouted back Molly, rolling her eyes. Then she too made her way to the living room to inquire why her friend wanted to know.
"Why do you ask -" she began, but stopped when she caught sight of the news on TV.
"Probably the most famous detective in London, Sherlock Holmes is dead. He threw himself from the roof of London's St. Bart's Hospital yesterday morning..." a newscaster just told on TV.
And on the lower screen, more news about yesterday's incident ran in continuous loop.
-Sherlock Holmes dead- Consulting detective commits suicide- Another body on Bart's roof identified as Jim Moriarty-
"Oh my God," Rebecca said now in a horrified tone, holding a hand over her mouth. Then she looked over at her friend and realized that Molly wasn't moving.
She was just standing there, completely rigid. Eyes fixed on the screen. All color drained from her face and silent tears escaped from the corners of her eyes.
"Molly? Molly? Are you okay?" Rebecca then asked, concerned.
Molly didn't answer. She didn't realize she had been spoken to. Everything seemed so incredibly far away. Her eyes only followed the messages on the lower screen.
-Sherlock Holmes dead - consulting detective commits suicide -.
As she looked at them, it occurred to her.
That's probably what John was trying to tell me'.
She reached for her phone in her hand and dialed. It wasn't long before it picked up on the other end.
"Molly, thank God! We thought -"
"Is it true?"
-silence-
"John! Is it true?! Is Sherlock really..." Molly's voice broke.
"Yes."
Then the line went dead as Molly's phone fell out of her hand and crashed to the floor.
Suddenly her body felt completely stiff, she couldn't move. In her chest she felt a twinge and how it gradually increased. Her throat was dry and so slowly she felt that a huge weight was taking away her breath. She felt that her face was wet. But she could not move. Even when her friend stepped in front of her and pulled her into her arms, she was unable to move. She just stood there staring at the now dark screen.
Rebecca then pulled her onto the couch with her and gently stroked her back.
"Molly?" she asked again.
Slowly, her face streaked with tears, Molly turned her head to her friend and looked into her eyes.
"He's dead," she said. It was more of a whisper.
Rebecca continued to stroke her back in soothing circles, trying to comfort her. So slowly Molly realized what had happened and then with the last of her strength leaned against her friend and cried. She cried all the pain off her chest. The pain she felt over and over again all these years because of him, the pain of losing random touches or his smile and the pain of missed opportunities. She could never tell him how she really felt about him. That she was in love with him since the first day they met and that love never diminished. On the contrary, it only grew stronger.
But it was too late. Sherlock Holmes was dead.
