"Do not consider me now as an elegant female intending to plague you, but as a rational creature speaking the truth from her heart."
Xxx
Molly was back at her flat, stuffing her face with pizza, Toby snuggled into her lap, desperately trying to forget how her life was so gloriously falling apart. She had cried more in the past few months of her life than she ever had before, blaming Sherlock's antics and her mother's diagnosis as the cause for most of them.
And while she desperately wanted to blame the tears currently soaking her face on her mother's diagnosis, she knew lying to herself would just make her hurt more.
Because here she was, hitting her mid-thirties, again single. Her two most recent relationship had both been long-term, and had both ended with her realizing that neither of those men could make her happy.
Molly knew deep down that there was only one man who could truly do that. Unfortunately, for all his wonderful qualities and recent confessions, he historically was still manipulative, unstable, selfish, and on occasion, flat out rude.
Which Sherlock could she trust?
She let out another sob, sick of her relationship with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Could she believe the tender Sherlock, the one who held her close as she cried over her mother's diagnosis, the one who could play for hours on end with Rosie, the one who told her to follow her heart, to be happy?
Or would she be stuck with the reckless Sherlock, one who would disappear for weeks, perhaps months, closing himself off whenever things went bad, quick to resort to bullying when upset, partial to drug use for a release?
As she ran her fingers through Toby's fur, she came to a decision.
Given her mother's condition, the last thing she could focus on was love. If she was meant to find happiness, it would have to wait until things… got better.
She worked on cleaning up her face, until noise from her mobile distracted her. Glancing at the screen, her brother's name flashed across, practically making her sick. She grabbed it and accepted the call, letting out a breathless, "Thomas?"
Her brother sniffled from the other end of the call, making Molly shake in anticipation of his words. When his soft voice filled her ears, she almost vomited from her nerves.
"Molly, they've changed their minds. She can get the treatment. And… it's paid! There was an article in the paper, or something, a Kickstarter. I don't know. But we leave tonight," he rushed out, his heavy breathing filling her ears.
Molly bolted up, unsure of his words. "What? What do you mean? She can get the treatment?"
"Yes!" Thomas cried out, clearly shuffling around, "Ellen just emailed your flight information. Hurry up. It leaves at 9."
"What?" She croaked out, still too surprised to comprehend his words.
"We'll meet you in New York! We're leaving now. Please, just go to the airport."
Molly stumbled to her bedroom, mobile still on her ear, desperately searching for a suit case. "Thomas, are you sure? I don't understand how—"
His voice cut her off. "Molly, please. I have to go. I'll see you soon. I love you."
As the call ended, Molly finally found her suitcase, and seemingly in a trance, began to toss clothes in.
What month is it? What's the weather like in New York?
She let out a frustrated cry and began to dig through her drawers, trying to find her passport. With one final tug, zip, and cry, she was out the door, desperately texting Meena to feed Toby while she was gone.
Thank you, god.
Xxx
One seven-hour flight later, and a drive to Manhattan in a town car that she wasn't going to question Thomas on how it was paid for, she arrived at a hotel that she could only imagine staying in. Stumbling inside, clad in an old pair of jeans and University jumper, she was clearly out of place. An employee noticed and rushed over, quickly grabbing her suit case.
"Good evening, Miss Hooper. I trust you had a pleasant flight over?" He asked, all smiles.
I thought New Yorkers were supposed to be mean.
Molly just nodded, too tired and confused to even communicate. "Yeah… I was told to come here. My brother has a reservation."
The employee nodded, still smiling. "Of course. Mr. and Mrs. Hooper checked in a few hours ago, but I believe they are currently at Mount Sinai. Let me take you to your room, and we'll have dinner brought up shortly."
Molly followed the man in a daze, still unsure if she was in fact in a post-pizza coma, asleep on her sofa in London. That feeling only intensified when he opened her door, leading to what could only be described as a luxury hotel room with windows overlooking the lights of the city.
"Please let us know if there's anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable. My name is Anthony if you need me." He set her bag down and handed her a key card before disappearing, leaving Molly to stare at the lights, suddenly in another fit of tears.
Jeez Molly, why are you crying now?
Xxx
Sherlock held his hands over his face, index fingers tapping gently above his lips, his mind all over. John gazed over from beside him, shoving another handful of peanuts in his mouth. Moving an earbud out of his ear, John gave his mate a curious look.
"Are you really not going to tell me anything about our case? I left my daughter with a batty old lady to cross the pond with you. I'm owed some sort of explanation."
"I'm afraid you won't like it." Sherlock offered, his eyes still shut.
John groaned. "Try me, Sherlock."
"You'll be informed soon enough. Eat your peanuts and I'll buy you a hot dog when we land."
John contemplated the offer. "A bagel. And pizza. And a souvenir for Rosie."
Sherlock scowled. "I should have gone alone."
John shrugged and replaced his ear bud, back to watching his movie.
Xxx
The next morning, Molly entered the unfamiliar hospital, still anxious and beyond confused. Even though the hotel bed was the most comfortable thing she had ever laid in, she had slept for only a few hours, sick to her stomach with the possibilities of the day.
Of the operation.
Molly swallowed, suddenly regretting the large breakfast she had eaten before leaving. She turned the corner and found her mother's name. With a deep breath, she entered, although immediately freezing at the sight.
Her mother was placed in a ginormous suite, her windows overlooking the city, the entire room decorated in balloons and 'Get Well Soon' decorations. She blinked and looked over at Ellen, who sat holding her mother's hand.
"Molly!" Ellen jumped up and pulled her sister-in-law into a hug, "I'm so sorry Thomas and I didn't drop by last night. As soon as we got in, we had to make sure Anne was settled before we got to the hospital. We were sure you were tired too."
Molly just nodded. "It's okay. I understand. I'm just so confused by—"
Ellen shook her head, her smile bright. "Don't worry, okay? Just relax. Her procedure starts in forty minutes. I'm going to meet Thomas in the cafeteria."
She pressed a kiss to Molly's forehead before hurrying out. Molly swallowed and sat in the chair she previously occupied, grabbing her mother's hand.
Her mom just smiled at her. "You didn't need to come here for me."
Molly sniffled and shook her head. "Of course, I did. I'm so worried about you."
Her mother leaned over, wincing as she did so, to brush a few loose strands of Molly's hair out of her face. "I am so lucky to have such wonderful children. You and Thomas have made me happier than you could ever imagine."
Molly hiccupped and hugged her mother, conscious of the tears streaming down her face. "And when you get to meet your eventual grandchildren, you'll love them just as much."
Her mother nodded and kissed her daughter's head, beginning to cry as well. "Stay with me until I go in, will you?"
"Of course."
Xxx
Forty minutes later, Molly and Thomas followed Dr. Garcia and his assistants, as their mother was pushed on her gurney to the operating theater. Dr. Garcia explained a few last-minute clarifications before assuring them everything would be okay.
Their mother bid them a farewell, pressing soft kisses to their cheeks before she disappeared, leaving the two to stare at the swinging doors. Molly looked over at her brother, tears streaming down her face.
"This will work, right?" She asked, her voice small, feeling ever like a little girl.
And just as her brother had when her gold fish died, and her father died, and when Billy Thorne broke her heart at age fourteen, he pulled her into his arms.
"Yes, Molls. Everything will be okay."
Xxx
Sherlock sat in the café, holding his coffee close, scowling as he looked at his friend. John, unaware of his mate's angry glare, was chomping away happily on a bagel, wearing a blue Yankees ball cap.
"Will you take that bloody thing off? Why are you wearing it?" Sherlock finally asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
John raised an eyebrow and took another bite of bagel. "When in America, do as the Americans do."
"You look like a git."
"Well, so do you, in that jacket! It's not even 19 outside."
Sherlock shook his head angrily, continuously glancing at his mobile. John sighed and crossed his arms, focusing on his friend.
"Out with it. Normally I'd be thrilled for a holiday to New York, but we aren't doing anything! What's going on?"
Sherlock sighed and focused on his mug, running his fingers along the edges of the cup. "I may have meddled in Molly's mother's affairs."
John's face fell. "Sherlock… What the fuck did you do?"
He cleared his throat and brought his drink back to his lips.
"I saved her life."
Xxx
The operation was a success. Well, in the sense that it had gone well— the true effects of the procedure, and whether her tumors would shrink or disappear wouldn't be known for another week or so, and then perhaps months. Molly sat beside her mother's bed, desperately trying to stop the silent tears from falling down her face. But, it was hard not to. It had been such a stressful day.
"I love you, mum." She whispered, before leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to her sleeping mother's cheek.
She sat back down and checked her mobile, making sure that her boss hadn't sent her anything new. She had woken up to a phone call from a very concerned Mike Stamford, who wanted to know why she hadn't shown up to work. While he of course had been understanding, and allowed Molly to take the next two weeks to be with her mother, she assured him that he could still send her autopsies for second opinions.
Dr. Garcia entered and gave Molly a pleasant smile. "Let me know if you have any further questions. We expect to start seeing changes in five to seven days. In the meantime, she's going to be well taken care of here."
Molly nodded and sniffled. "Thank you so much, Doctor. I can't thank you enough for your help."
He waved his hand. "I'm just doing my job. Besides, if you have anyone to thank, it should be—"
Ellen entered, holding a bag of food. She smiled politely at the Doctor before settling next to Molly.
"Thank you, Dr. Garcia," Ellen said with a telling smile.
He nodded and left, leaving Molly with a raised eyebrow.
"What was that about?" She asked, watching Ellen unpack the food.
"Oh, nothing. I got you chicken biryani."
"Thank you. Where's Thomas? He left an hour ago and didn't say anything."
Ellen just smiled. "He just had to run out quickly. He'll be back."
Xxx
John glared at Sherlock, continuing his yelling lecture that had begun while they were at the café, and continued back to the hotel. "You can't fucking meddle in people's lives! Don't you understand that by now? I—"
He stopped speaking as the door to their hotel room opened. In front, a tired, man with friendly eyes, strolled in, Mycroft closely behind.
Sherlock looked over at the two, clearing his throat. "Thomas. Mycroft. How did things go?"
Thomas swallowed and nodded, a small smile growing on his lips. "We won't know for a week but… The procedure had no issues. So, hopefully good."
"She is resting, as we speak," Mycroft began, as he examined the hotel room, "And she will remain there for the following week, or at least until she is comfortable enough to begin rehabilitation back at home."
John blinked and looked between the three men, clearly confused. "Okay. What the fuck is going on? Who is this guy?"
Sherlock scowled and gave John a menacing look. "Could you possibly have more couth? This is Molly's brother Thomas, and their mother is currently recovering from a procedure. Just eat the pizza I bought you."
John frowned. "I had no idea since you wouldn't bloody tell me anything!"
Mycroft sighed and looked at Sherlock. "They're comfortable here. On the sixteenth floor. Your flight leaves this evening."
Sherlock nodded and looked over at Thomas. "Keep me updated. Please."
"Of course. I can't thank you enough."
"Please, don't bother."
Mycroft led Thomas out, leaving Sherlock to gaze out the window, and John to stand with his arms crossed, mouth agape.
"What the bloody fuck is going on? We're already leaving? What did you do?!"
Sherlock sighed and glared at John. "Come along. We have six hours. Let's see your bloody tourist shit and I'll explain everything."
John practically pouted and grabbed his coat, but still followed Sherlock out.
