Panicked and with an unconscious Molly in his arms, he pushed open the door to the infirmary and screamed for a doctor. Immediately, several nurses and doctors rushed over and took the still motionless Molly from him. They took her to a nearby examination room and asked Sherlock to sit in the chairs outside.

Reluctantly, he complied with the nurses' demands and took a seat in one of the opposite chairs. His eyes were fixed on the door, which was closed in front of him. His thoughts kept circling back to what had just happened and why Molly had fainted for the second time in a very short time. Then he suddenly noticed the file lying on the floor next to Molly in his coat pocket. Unable to do anything else at the moment, he decided to examine the results of the sample analysis himself. As it turned out, Carter died of thallium poisoning, which had been administered orally.

'Somebody wanted to get rid of his accomplice quickly,' Sherlock thought to himself.

So it had to be someone who knew how to use these drugs. Since there is no antidote for thallium, it is also considered a combatant. So it had to be someone who dealt with it. Maybe someone in military service or research.'

But who did Sherlock know to whom all this would apply? Except for his brief investigation at Baskerville, no one would come to mind. Maybe he should pay his brother a little visit, he thought to himself, when suddenly the door in front of him was pushed open.

Sherlock rose from his chair and walked slowly toward the doctor. His expression unreadable.

"How is she?" asked Sherlock then.

"She's awake." he replied to him curtly.

"Okay, and can I see her?"

"Excuse me, are you family?" the doctor then said.

Sherlock felt the gaze on him and briefly considered what to answer. He knew that only relatives would get more detailed info and from the way the doctor was looking at him, there would also be trouble if he wanted to visit her. And he guessed, the words were already leaving his mouth.

"Um, no so yeah... So, it's like, Molly doesn't have a family anymore. Her friends are her family. And I'm her friend."

And then something else slipped out, which he had thought he would never use those words in his life.

"To be exact, I'm her fiancé."

A strange feeling spread through Sherlock as he pretended to be Molly's fiancé. It felt somehow comfortable...somehow right.

The doctor in front of him still eyed him skeptically, but then nodded and gestured him to enter.

Sherlock exhaled in relief and then entered the room.

Molly was lying on her bed, looking out the window. When she heard the door open, she turned her face and looked up in surprise.

"Sherlock? I didn't expect to see you here"

But Sherlock didn't answer, instead just kept moving toward her bed.

"How are you?" he then asked as he stopped at the end of her bed.

Molly looked a little surprised that he was inquiring about her condition. Her expression looked accordingly, which brought a slight smirk to Sherlock's face.

"Um. Well, I feel a little weak. The doctors said they wanted to keep me here for further tests."

"Okay good."

"Oh and Sherlock, they told me that you brought me here. So thank you for that" Molly then said. A slight blush flattered her cheeks.

"Well it seemed more appropriate than leaving you on the cold tile floor" he waved it off. Then he moved just slowly to the side of her bed, pulled up a chair and looked deep into her eyes.

"Molly? What's really going on?"

"Hmm, what do you mean?"

"I mean, you've passed out twice in a week now. And you're never actually sick. In all the years we've known each other, you've never been seriously ill, and now already in a short period of time you seem to be getting worse every time!"

Molly averted her gaze and directed it instead to her interwoven hands on her lap. Nervously, she fiddled with her blanket.

Sherlock noticed her tension and without thinking about it, he reached out and placed his hand over Molly's. With his other hand, he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and slowly turned her face back toward him.

"Molly? What did the doctors say exactly?"

He tried to sound as calm and as unaccusatory as possible.

"They don't know. They can't explain why this is happening. That's why they want to keep me here for more tests" Molly sighed heavily.

"But Sherlock, I think something is wrong. I mean, I've been feeling so weak since the wedding. I've never slept through an entire day, and yet I'm still exhausted."

She paused for a moment. Then she put on her smile.

"But I don't want to burden you with this. How are you getting on with these mysterious letters, anyway? Had Carter been able to tell you anything before he died? Was he behind it, or is there someone else and that's why he had to die?"

Sherlock grinned slightly as he listened to her interest and hypotheses. He always knew Molly was a smart person.

"Well, it looks like Carter was working for someone or was forced to write those letters. And yes, he was trying to help me out and I think that's why he had to die. Someone is desperate to keep this a secret. I also looked at the results of the samples and I think it would have to be someone with a military background or in research. I just need to find out who it could be and I know exactly where to start," Sherlock explained.

Only slowly did he notice that Molly had already closed her eyes again and was breathing softly and calmly.

"That's nice. I'm sure you'll solve the case" she said softly before falling back into a deep sleep.

Sherlock smiled just slightly, then gently stroked a few strands of hair from her face and placed a small kiss on her forehead.

"I'll find whoever did this to you, Molly. I promise."