Molly had never had a more uncomfortable cab ride in her life. The hunger that had plagued her before she fled to Bart's had thankfully subsided but with her clarity of mind came the ability to process the changes her body had gone through. Everything felt sharper, almost painfully so as her mind tried to process the rush of enhanced information from her body. The world was a sudden cacophony of sounds, sights, and smells. Even her sense of touch seemed to have been altered, the wash softened clothing under her fingers no longer feeling as soft as she was sure it had been just recently. She wondered vaguely if this was akin to what Sherlock went through, this flood of information at every turn. If so she no longer envied his skills as much as she once had, the information overload was nearly nauseating.
Speaking of Sherlock, he was still there, staring at her intently from across the stretch of seat between them. Looking all the world as if he could unravel the very mystery of her condition if he only focused long enough. She nearly wished he could. Perhaps then he'd know a way to change it all back to the way it was. She hadn't asked for this, didn't want this. All the time spent wishing she was something more was washed away in a wave of longing for what she had been. Even logically knowing that there was no cure for a non-beating heart didn't keep her from wishing there was a way to go back to being plain old Molly Hooper, even if just in death. Of all the things she had ever wanted to be, a monster was never one of them.
She thought back to every idiotically cheesy vampire movie she'd ever seen and shuddered, picturing the way the female vampires had been portrayed. Even if she was to suddenly upturn her entire wardrobe for something new; low cut, overtly sexy, likely leather clothing wasn't anything she was interested in owning. Her nose wrinkled at the idea of either her clothes or her personality changing that drastically. It was an unpleasant thought. She wasn't a predator, bloody hell she couldn't even picture herself seducing a man and killing him merely for her own survival without her stomach pitching dangerously close to making her throw up. She curled in on herself to prevent just that, doing her best not to break into hysterics in front of Sherlock. The last thing she wanted right now was to feel more pathetic than she already did.
Sherlock indeed stared at Molly as if he could unravel the entire mystery of what had happened to her if he just focused hard enough. He cataloged every movement and sound she made, and every breath she didn't, storing it all away to work through in greater detail at a later date. She was definitely different, obvious lack of pulse notwithstanding. She seemed more in tune with everything around, reacting to the constant stream of stimuli London offered visibly with small twitches and winces at loud noises or lights. He was curious what this meant in regards to potential changes to her five senses, pondering if in fact which of her senses might have changed, they'd have to devise experiments that would introduce responses to each sense to gauge any approximate changes may have occurred and to what severity. His mind whirled at the thought of the potential experiments and test that would need to be done to better understand what Molly had become. The potential changes to her system could well prove nearly infinite.
A vampire. The very name of it made him have to fight back a scoff of disbelief despite the proof across the seat from him, staring back with worried eyes. He didn't like seeing the worry there, buried in the depths of those large eyes whose color always reminded him of the homemade hot chocolate his mother would make every Christmas. He wanted to reassure her, though he knew he was woefully ill equipped to offer comfort to anyone. That was typically left to Mrs. Hudson or John, both infinitely more experienced in such an area. Still, neither were there currently and he couldn't shake the compulsion to make an attempt on his own. "I'm sure this is all more than unsettling Molly, however you shouldn't allow yourself any undue worry. We will approach this as we would any unknown medical condition, and after suitable testing I'm sure we will be able to comprise a way for you to lead as relatively a normal life as you would have otherwise. You may well in fact find this particular condition more to your liking." He flashed her a smile he hoped was reassuring, though he wondered as to the success of it as he watched her face fall. Perhaps a bit not good after all. Damn!
"I don't want to find this to my liking Sherlock. I was okay with who I was, maybe not happy but okay. This? This is a nightmare. You don't hear about a lot of friendly vampires Sherlock. I'd be happier if it could just be cured." The sadness in her tone seemed to sink a lead weight in his gut. She sounded so resigned, so defeated. He pondered for a moment the possibility of finding a cure and realized quickly that a cure for vampirism would not bring back her pulse or restart her heart. He knew Molly was far more intelligent than he gave anyone else credit for, knew that she would know this as well if she had thought of it, and that knowledge caused a sharp spike of panic to rip through him. Leaning forward he took her face in his hands, registering the chill of her skin but dismissing it to be analyzed at a later time. He looked at her intently, his expression stern with a touch of that same panic showing in his eyes. "Listen to me Molly, listen to me right now because this is important. Your life, however you may need to live it, is important. It means something, to your friends...to me. Never wish for the end of it. No matter what your new condition brings in the future we will face it together. You are not alone Molly Hooper. We will get through this, do you understand me?"
Molly stared wide eyed at the man now clutching her face as if letting go would mean losing her, surprised by the intensity in Sherlock's voice. She'd known she mattered, he'd told her such several times since that first one, there in the darkened pathology lab in what seemed like so long ago. They'd seemed to grow closer, even despite her slapping him silly when he'd fallen back into drugs. She'd never apologized for that, and he'd been smart enough to never ask her to despite apologizing for his callous attitude towards her broken engagement. She'd even helped on a few more cases with him, when John had proved unavailable. She'd grown confident enough in their friendship with him to believe that he himself would even openly admit to counting her as a friend, much as he always loathed the word.
But this was different. This was a sudden rush of emotion that brought a heated blush to her skin despite her potentially non-functioning circulatory system. All she could do was nod mutely, her mouth half open to say...well she really didn't know what to say. With everything that had happened this evening this felt like one more ledge to tumble off of, and as much as she hoped this one would prove a softer fall, history still whispered in her mind that it likely would ended up the hardest fall she'd ever taken yet. She wasn't sure if she was grateful or frustrated when the moment was shattered by the cabby knocking on the Plexiglas that separated them, causing the two to pull apart and blink at the driver in question as if broken from a spell. "Alright you lovebirds, much as I don't mind running up the tab just sitting here, I got me own loved ones to get home to. You getting out here or what?" She bit her lip, feeling embarrassed and a bit sheepish as Sherlock glared at the man, grumbling something she couldn't hear as he paid the driver. She followed after him as he swept out of the cab, the both of them making their way up to 221B in a now awkward silence.