The next morning

Molly walked through her flat completely exhausted and looked around. She could not sleep very well after Mycroft and the men had left her flat. She just lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling and brooding.
The morning didn't take long and Molly had to get ready for work and face Sherlock.
She had to hurry, as her shift at Bart's was due to start in an hour and she wanted to get a new phone before then. She quickly jumped in the shower and put on fresh clothes. She did without breakfast. She would just get something small to eat on the way to the electronics market. After she had finished packing her bag and stowed away the SIM card of her destroyed phone, she set off.
Her thoughts kept turning to yesterday, the phone call, the search of her flat and what Mycroft's assistant had told her...

Review

Molly was still sitting outside her house on the cold steps, waiting for Mycroft and the men to leave. She had decided against Mycroft Holmes' recommendation to go to a nearby hotel, and as the night progressed, she gradually regretted it.
Standing in front of her was Anthea, Mycroft's assistant, typing something into her phone. Molly was still wondering what was going on and why there were cameras in her flat of all places.

"Miss...Anthea, is it? What's going on here?" she then asked.

Anthea looked up briefly from her phone.
"I'm afraid I'm not authorised to tell you anything. I'm sorry," she replied and immediately continued to type on her phone.

Molly gave a deep sigh.
"Why doesn't anyone tell me anything?" she muttered quietly and disappointedly.

Anthea overheard her mumbling and then replied to her:
"You should talk to the younger brother"

Sherlock. Of course, who else? But she was right. After all, he still owed her an explanation. And apparently, he was the only person who could explain this whole situation to her. Molly thought about it for a moment and finally turned to the person in front of her. She might as well go to him as wait here in the cold.

"Miss? Do you think it would be possible if your driver could drive me to a certain place?"

Anthea looked up from her telephone in surprise.

"Er, of course, but where are you going?"

"Well, as no-one else is talking to me, I need to see the person who can tell me about all this! I want to see Sherlock Holmes in Baker Street," said Molly, then straightened up and brushed the dirt off her trousers. But before she could get to the car, Anthea interrupted her.

"Miss Hooper, I'm sorry but he is not there. Haven't you heard?"

"I'm sorry, heard what?" Molly then asked in slight surprise and turned back to her.

"There was an explosion and the flat was completely destroyed!" answered her Anthea.

"An explosion? What? But how? Is Sherlock all right and Mrs Husdon?" Molly then asked in complete horror.

"Don't worry, Miss. Everyone's fine and got out of the flat in time."

It took a load off Molly's mind. But why hadn't she heard about the explosion?
Well, probably because she had completely renounced all media all day yesterday. After she was home, she just wanted to have her peace and quiet and make herself comfortable on the couch with a nice hot tea. Until the phone call, which probably - now it occurred to her - was related to the explosion and all this. Again and again she wondered what Sherlock had got himself into again and whether he was all right. She urgently needed to talk to Sherlock. And as soon as possible.

"Oh, thank God! But where are Mrs Hudson and Sherlock now?" she then asked.

"The elderly lady has gone to see her sister for the time being, and Mr Holmes will probably be with Dr Watson. Shall I have you taken there?"

Molly thought for a moment.
"No, no. It's very late and he has a little daughter. I don't want to disturb her now. I'll just stop by his house tomorrow," she then explained.

Anthea nodded briefly and then turned her attention back to her phone.

Molly had learned of the explosion in Sherlock's flat and her anger and resentment had evaporated for the time being, turning to concern and fear. She was sure that she urgently needed to talk to him about it. She had always been a person who cared and looked after her friends and put their needs in the background. Her decision to cut him out of her life took a back seat for the time being. More important now was to find out what had happened and if Sherlock was all right?
But would he even want to talk to her or would he, like his brother, reject her?

But for some reason she didn't think much about it. She did not care. She was tired of everyone thinking she was insignificant and not telling her anything. Right after work today, she would go to John's house and confront Sherlock about it.