"Do not give way to useless alarm; though it is right to be prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain."

Xxx

It had been a busy few days since she had met Sherlock and his parents at his childhood home. It had been a surprising, yet delightful evening, between getting to know his parents, and even having part of her family along for the ride. Over the past days, she couldn't help but laugh as she thought of the time spent at his family estate. Since then, unfortunately, Thomas and Ellen had left, driving back to Leeds to return to their regular lives.

Molly already missed her brother and sister-in-law. She saw them only four or so times a year, and her flat was already too quiet for her liking after their departure. But, just as she did, they needed to return to work, and her mum.

Once they had left, she went back about her normal life, including a few dates with George, which were always pleasant and left her in a good mood. Admittedly, she continued to think back to Sherlock's suggestion of a pending proposal, and she put her best investigatory skills to use, trying to determine when that ask would happen.

If it's going to happen.

And sticking true to Sherlock's ask, she accompanied him, John, and Rosie to the park later in the week. Rosie was just delightful, screaming and giggling every time her tiny bum hit the slide or the swings, and she was especially excitable when a friendly couple showed up with an even nicer dog.

Molly had been more interested in watching Sherlock and Rosie interact than anything else. She spoke to him a few times that day, mostly about very superficial topics, but overall, her attention had been directed at the small child.

But now, on a sunny Thursday afternoon, Molly sat on a park bench, taking bites of her sandwich during her lunch hour. While she normally stuck to the office or the cafeteria, she couldn't resist going outside to feel the sun on her skin.

As she ate away, reading the news on her mobile, she was startled as the device began to ring. At the flashing of her brother's name and face, she grinned and quickly accepted the call.

"Thomas! How are you? Not too bad getting back into work, I hope," she laughed, before taking another bite of her sandwich.

The silence on the other end of the line made her frown. "Thomas?"

Finally, a low sigh, one clearly belonging to her older brother, filled her ears. "Molly? Are you alone? Are you sitting down?"

Molly frowned and shifted on the bench. She set her half-eaten sandwich down. "Yes… Thomas, are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Molly, it's mum. I took her to see a doctor and the results just came in. She's sick, Molly. Really sick," Thomas replied, his voice strained.

Molly sat up and dug her free hand into her knee, wondering if she heard him correctly. "Thomas, what do you mean she's sick? What did the doctor say?"

"She has cancer, Molly."

"What type?" She replied quickly, conscious of a few tears escaping her eyes.

"Lymphoma. Non-Hodgkin," she could hear him shifting around, presumably reading from papers, "You're much better with the medicine stuff. I'll email you over what he said but… I'm scared."

Molly wiped at her eyes and took a shaky breath. "What stage? Thomas, I need you to tell me how bad it is."

She heard his breath hitch, and prepared herself for an answer she was dreading. "It's advanced, Molls. She collapsed a few hours ago. We're at the hospital now."

Molly began to cry, dropping her gaze from the beautiful London afternoon to the dreary grey of her trousers. She wiped at her cheeks, not caring where her mascara went.

"Is she okay? What are our options?" She asked, taking short breaths to calm her crying.

She could practically hear his frown. "She's settled in now. She's sleeping. The doctor said that since the cancer has spread so much, there's no guarantee that chemo could do much." her heart practically broke at the sound of her brother's sniffle, "Even with it, he still doesn't envision a longer prognosis than nine months."

Molly shut her eyes and let her head fall backwards, momentarily frozen by the feel of her sun on her face. It reminded her of the feeling of her mum brushing her hair, promising that everything would be alright.

Would it be?

She opened her eyes and sniffled. "What does she want to do?"

Thomas sighed and again began to flip through papers. "She hasn't decided if she wants to go through chemo yet. I think she…" there was a break in his voice that caused Molly to shake, "I think she may be content to let it run its course."

"No," was all Molly managed to whisper out.

"But," Thomas started up again, a glimmer of hope in his voice, "Dr. Martin mentioned a new experimental treatment in the States. Apparently, it uses gene therapy to attack the cancer. Almost 90 percent of patients have seen their tumors completely disappear or shrink considerably."

Molly rose to her feet, tossing the remainder of her lunch into a bin. She began to walk back towards the hospital, almost mindlessly. She took another shuttering breath.

"Let's get her on the list, Thomas. What chance does she have with just chemo?"

Silence filled her ears, giving Molly the answer she dreaded but expected.

"Let's get her on the list," she repeated, "We can't give up."

"It's not that simple," Thomas pleaded, his voice breaking.

"Why not?" She practically screamed, new tears pouring down her face.

"You know how the NHS is! You think they're going to let a dying woman leave the country for experimental treatment? Not to mention how much bloody money it would cost?"

"Thomas, please," she began, her voice desperate, "Start the paperwork. Apply for her to leave. Don't worry about the money. I'll empty my accounts or we'll take out a loan. Just right now, we need the chance."

Another silence filled her ears.

"Please?" she whispered again, shutting her eyes to prevent more tears from escaping.

"Of course, Molls," Thomas responded, his voice as strained as her own, "I'll submit them tonight."

Silence filled her ears again, as both her and her brother apparently realized what they had been discussing.

Her mother was dying.

"I'm on my way, Thomas. I'll be there tonight."

"Molly?"

"Yes?"

"I love you. Be safe."

"Of course," she managed out, before ending the call and rushing back to her office.

We only need a chance.

Xxx

As she laid in her brother's guest room, later that evening, she finally came to terms with the day. Between a full day at the office, to the late-night train ride to Leeds, to the feeling of holding her mum close as she slept in her hospital bed, knowing what was to come…

Molly was both physically and mentally exhausted. Her conversation with Thomas upon arrival had ended with a tearful screaming match, with her brother voicing practical concerns, both financially and on their mother's spirits, whereas Molly just wanted a chance to see her mum next Christmas.

We only need a chance.

But a dreadful fear still overwhelmed her body, forcing her to come to grips with the thought of losing her mother, the one person who had always been there for her. From falling and scraping her knee, to the broken hearts and silly boys, to the loss of her father…

Her mother had always been there, a sort of constant in her life that she never questioned. That she never expected she would lose at such a young age.

She wiped at her eyes, reminding herself that crying was okay. That she had a right to be hurt and scared. A type of hurt and scared that she hadn't felt since…

Sherlock.

She buried her face in the pillow, disgusted with herself that the one person she wanted to talk to was the one person she had no business engaging with. She had yet to even tell George that she left London, and here she was wanting to call Sherlock.

No longer caring about right from wrong, Molly picked up her mobile with shaking hands and dialed Sherlock's number, holding the device to her ear, allowing the tears to fall freely.

After a few rings, his deep voice filled her ear, enveloping her shaking body in a warm blanket, settling her nerves in a way she never thought possible.

"Molly?" He asked, clearly surprised by her call.

Molly sniffled and shut her eyes, focusing on just the sound of his voice. "Can you do me a favor?" She asked, her words strained.

"Are you okay?" He asked, suddenly concerned with her tone.

"Sherlock, please..."

"Are you in any danger?" He asked again, rather forcibly.

Molly sniffled. "No, Sherlock."

She heard him take a deep breath.

"What do you need, Molly?"

She shifted in her bed, snuggling into her pillow, pretending someone was holding her close, whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

"Can you promise me that everything will be okay?"

He paused on the other end of the line, before taking another deep breath. "Molly, I promise everything will be okay. I will make sure of it."

Molly sniffled and wiped at her cheeks once again. "Thank you, Sherlock."

And with that, she ended the call, dozing off to sleep with Sherlock's words on her brain.

I promise everything will be okay.

Xxx

About two weeks had passed since her trip to Leeds and Molly had yet to really believe her mother's diagnosis, much less accept it. Her mother was still in the hospital, growing paler and weaker every day. But, even had her state of unwell, she seemed in good spirits. She was happy. She was smiling.

Her mother was being herself.

So, it had been a hard pill to swallow, and a difficult adjustment once back in London, only having spent three short days with Thomas, Ellen, and her mother, trying to come to terms with what to do next. Her mother, even under the harsh hospital lights, was hesitant to begin chemotherapy and she and Thomas were waiting with bated breath for a response from the NHS on their application to take her to the States for experimental treatment.

It had been a blur, and on this Friday afternoon, after a lengthy lunch chat with her mum over the phone, she was quite ready to go home and sleep. George had been a doll during the time since her return from Leeds, dropping by frequently with flowers and food, promising her that everything would be alright.

Yet, his words didn't give her faith the same way Sherlock's did.

George was now off on a sailing trip to somewhere with a few University friends, and Molly was happier than she should be for an evening alone. But, with all the emotional turmoil from the past few weeks, she was glad to remain in her bed, with only Toby to keep her company.

That all changed when she heard someone enter the lab, as she was busy putting her equipment away. Sherlock stood by the door, his hands shoved into his Belstaff.

"Hello, Sherlock." She told him, admittedly a bit tiredly, given the past few weeks.

He cleared his throat. "Molly, I came to ask for your assistance."

She sighed and began to wash her hands. "The bodies are away. I'm leaving."

"No, not that. I… I request your accompaniment on a case."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "You want me to join you on a case? Where's John?"

"He's in Brighton with Rosie. They're visiting his sister. But, I need to follow a lead up north. Will you join me?"

Molly glanced over at her mobile, considering the offer.

How could she devote her energy and brain to helping Sherlock, when all she really wanted to do was sleep and cry? Would she be selfish to distract herself as her mother was sitting in a hospital in Leeds, slowly withering away? Did she even have a right to be galivanting across the country with Sherlock, when she was dating George?

Sherlock continued to watch, an eyebrow raised, wondering why it was taking so long for her to accept the offer.

Molly sniffled and grabbed her bag, having made up her mind.

I could use a distraction. Why the hell not?

She crossed the room and looked at Sherlock, who watched her expectantly.

"I'll come."

Sherlock couldn't help but smile. "Splendid. We'll drop by your flat to pack you a bag. Our train leaves at 6."

With that, he exited the lab, with Molly hurrying behind. She rubbed at her eyes, excited to fall asleep on their train ride. But, as they left the hospital, and Molly finally got a breath of fresh air, one thought occurred to her.

"Wait, Sherlock. Where are we going?"

Sherlock stopped walking and looked back at her, unable to hide a small smile.

"Scotland."

And then he continued, leaving Molly to race after him, an unexpected smile across her features as well.

Xxx

NOTE:

Thanks for reading! So, beginning with this chapter and a handful to follow, a few medical topics will be discussed, as well as the British health care system. I ask my readers to keep an open mind as 1. I know nothing about medicine and 2. Know nothing about the British health care system. So, please don't tear me apart in the comments—I'll need a bit of extended belief with this sort of thing 😊