Hello to all curious readers ;)
I hope you could forgive me for letting Molly die... However, I can tell you that there was a good reason for it and now you will find out in the last chapter of my story.
Have fun with it. And as always, I would appreciate any final comments or your thoughts on this ;)
Sherlock had just found out that Molly was dead. Sadness and despair overwhelmed him at the sight of her dead body. He couldn't save her. He wanted to be close to her one more time and lay down next to her, wrapping her in his strong arms. But the stress and his emotional roller coaster ride of the past few weeks eventually caused Sherlock to fall asleep.
"Sherlock! Sherlock, wake up!" it suddenly cried, and someone gently shook his shoulder.
When he didn't move, the grip tightened.
"Wake up!"
And so slowly Sherlock opened his eyes and immediately looked into the worried eyes of his best friend.
"Oh thank God!" cried John in relief, running his hand over his face.
Sherlock wondered at the delighted expression on his friend's face. After all, Molly was dead and John had lost a good friend. Then he glanced beside him. The bed was empty. Only Sherlock was lying on that bed.
His gaze continued to roam the room.
"Molly," he whispered barely perceptibly, so that only he could hear.
"Where's Molly? How did they get her away so fast without me noticing?" he almost shouted, his question causing his best friend to look at him in irritation.
"We have to call Lestrade! He's got to arrest Tom. He's behind those mysterious messages and he killed Molly!" he continued to shout, almost panicking, and was about to move out of bed when a sharp pain stopped him.
John then frowned in confusion. With raised eyebrows, he slowly leaned forward and squeezed Sherlock's shoulder in a reassuring gesture.
"Take it easy, Sherlock. Nobody killed Molly. She's all right. She's at home. I asked her to get some rest since she spent the entire time at your bedside."
Sherlock's eyes widened as he heard what his best friend had just told him. Molly wasn't dead. She was alive and she was spending her time here by his side. He hadn't lost her. It wasn't over yet.
Only now did he slowly realize that the room had changed. He was still in the hospital but no longer in Molly's room and it was he himself who was lying in a hospital bed wearing only a hospital gown. Then he remembered certain scenes in his dream and that he kept being asked to wake up.
`So that was it. A dream. It was all just a dream,' he then thought to himself.
Then he slowly turned his face to his friend, who looked at him slightly confused and worried.
"What happened?"
"You had an accident. Some drunk douchebag caught you with his car while you were on your way home from the wedding" John sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face. His expression was a mixture of despair and relief.
"Your injuries were so severe that we didn't think you would make it. The doctors put you in an induced coma so your body could regenerate. You slept for three days. We took turns sitting by your bedside talking to you. But it was Molly who never left your room. She sat by your side non-stop, begging you to wake up."
`Three days? I've been asleep for three days? So my subconscious was just playing tricks on me and making me dream these horrible things. But it was all so real?" mused Sherlock in his mind.
"Um, Sherlock? What do you actually mean by mysterious messages and that Tom, was behind it?" John then asked, clearing his throat slightly.
Sherlock briefly thought about what to say, but then it occurred to him that he didn't understand it himself. John didn't know about the news. He concluded that it had happened only in his dream. It was clear to him that his subconscious was trying to tell him something with this dream.
"So Sherlock, what do you mean by these messages?" asked John again.
"Huh? Oh it nothing. It was just a dream" Sherlock waved it off.
`A relatively strange and real dream' Sherlock still thought to himself.
"Aha, a dream. A dream in which you receive mysterious messages, Tom is a criminal and Molly has been killed" John repeated again with a skeptical look in his eyes.
Then he pulled up a chair.
"So, you want to tell me a little more about what this whole thing is about Molly and why you were so panicked earlier?"
Sherlock sighed and tried to sit up a little straighter despite the pain.
"Like I said, it was just a dream. No need to elaborate" he replied, slightly annoyed.
"What are you doing here anyway? Aren't you supposed to be in your...äh, honeymoon?" asked Sherlock with a confused and questioning look on his face.
John groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
"Like, what do you think I'm doing here? We called everything off as soon as we heard about the accident. Sherlock, we didn't think you'd survive it, and you're my best friend!"
"Hmm... You didn't have to do that. I'm okay, as you can see." he only replied, pointing at his body.
That was a lie. Of course, Sherlock had survived, and despite a few bruises, he had come out of it okay, but he was still not okay. His thoughts kept circling back to what he had experienced in his dream. About how he had lost Molly without telling her how he really felt about her. He could literally feel his heart breaking into pieces. He knew that this dream was trying to tell him something and he needed to talk to Molly as soon as possible. But to do that, he first had to get rid of his best friend.
"Sherlock, you have several broken ribs, internal injuries and you almost bled to death! What makes you think I'm going on my honeymoon in spite of everything when you were fighting for your life?!" almost shouted John, straightening up from his chair.
"John, as you can see, I'm alive. I'm alive and well. No need to worry or cancel your honeymoon!" he said, keeping his voice in a monotone. He knew he was upsetting his friend by saying this.
John then looked at him aghast, threw his arms in the air in surrender and snorted.
"I don't believe it. I can't believe what you're saying!" he said more to himself than to Sherlock. Then he took his jacket from the chair and moved slowly toward the door.
"I'll come back when you stop acting like a complete ass!" he retorted with an annoyed roll of his eyes and stormed out the door.
Sherlock felt a slight pang of guilty conscience as he watched his friend storm off like that. But John knew what he was like and had often seen Sherlock be cold. But he could worry about that later. Right now, what mattered was a completely different person. And he knew he should do it right now, before worry and doubt met him.
Carefully, he straightened up further in his bed and checked on his things. They were all neatly folded on a small dresser on the other side of the room. On top of them was his phone.
Sherlock slowly pulled his covers off and moved one leg at a time out of bed. He was weakened and had difficulty holding himself upright. But it didn't matter. There was something more important than his health. He just had to get to his phone somehow.
So with small steps he walked towards the dresser, but had to stop several times when he felt dizzy. With one hand he clung to the frame of the bed and slowly continued his way. He had to get to his phone by any means necessary. It was the only thing that would count.
"Oh my God Sherlock!" suddenly shouted a voice in panic from the other end of the room.
Sherlock paused, recognizing the voice immediately. A brief smile flitted across his face and his heart pounded. He heard approaching footsteps and then felt a slight pressure around his body. A sudden warmth surrounded him.
"What are you doing? You should be in bed?!" the voice said again, supporting his weakened body with its arms. Carefully but firmly, she steered him back to the bed. Sherlock did not resist.
"Molly, what are you doing here? John said he sent you home?" asked Sherlock, looking deep into her eyes. He recognized dark circles under her eyes. They looked tired and exhausted, but also sparkled with hope.
But Molly did not return his gaze. Slightly embarrassed, she turned her head to the side and looked at the floor.
"Molly?" he asked again after settling back into bed, slowly turning her face toward him with his hand on her chin.
"I...I..." she stuttered as her eyes met his. There was so much warmth, longing, and something else in his eyes that Molly couldn't really interpret. Was it love?
"I didn't go home. I was here in the building the whole time, hoping you would wake up."
Tears formed in her eyes and sparkled.
Sherlock couldn't help but smile.
"Come here," he urged her, tapping a spot on the bed in front of him. Slightly confused, she looked first at his hand and then at his face. Then she carefully sat down at the edge of the bed. She expelled a deep breath.
"I can't believe it. You're alive, Sherlock! I thought I would never see you again. I'm so incredibly glad you're okay. You're okay, aren't you? I mean -" she babbled on, and was stopped when Sherlock suddenly leaned forward, put his hands on her cheeks, and pressed his lips to hers.
Molly was visibly surprised and stiffened a little but did not break the kiss. The kiss was gentle and restrained. Sherlock tasted the salt of her tears on his lips and slowly pulled away. With a questioning look, he looked at the person in front of him. Molly seemed to notice his astonishment.
"Tears of joy, Sherlock," was all she said and smiled.
Now he smiled again, too, and pulled her to him again. This time the kiss was anything but restrained. He kissed her intimately and with full passion. One hand moved to her neck while the other nestled around her waist, pulling Molly closer. Molly deepened the kiss by placing her hands around his neck and then slowly running her hands through his hair, pulling on it lightly. A pleasant feeling spread through Sherlock's body. The same tingling sensation he always felt when Molly was with him.
After a moment, he pulled back slightly but only enough to look into her eyes.
"Molly," he breathed softly, stroking her cheek with one hand.
She looked up and smiled shyly.
"I love you."
There it was. Sherlock had said it and it felt right. He had thought it would be harder for him to say the words, but they slipped from his lips with ease. He would not and could not wait any longer. This dream had clearly moved him to take this step. When Molly said nothing back, he continued.
"I've probably always loved you, just been too stupid to realize it. I want to spend my life with you. I want to wake up with you in my arms every day and go to sleep with you every night. I want to call you mine and I am yours and I hope it's not too late. I love you, Molly Hooper."
Molly still said nothing. Wide-eyed, she looked at the man in front of her. There was shock and surprise on her face. Sherlock had told her he loved her. For so long she had hoped for this, but eventually the hope faded visibly. But now, at this moment, she heard the long-awaited words from his mouth. The love of her life loved her and wanted to be with her. There was so much warmth and love in his eyes. At the sight of him, she was left speechless. She just didn't know what to say. Inside she squealed with joy but outside she was numb.
Sherlock was starting to get a little restless and moved slightly back and forth in the bed.
"It's too late, isn't it?" he asked then, slightly exasperated, swallowing hard.
He avoided her gaze and looked down instead. His stomach tightened at her silence and he slowly prepared himself for the worst. Then all of a sudden he felt two gentle hands grasp his face. Molly gently put her hands to Sherlock's cheeks and turned him to face her. Then she closed the distance between them and put her lips on his again. She put all her feelings for Sherlock into that kiss. Then slowly she broke away from his lips and beamed at him.
"I love you too, Sherlock"
The End 3
