A/N: Hi all! I know that this is a really short one, but I couldn't think of a way to make it longer without spoiling it so...
Update: Forgot that I was going to add a trigger warning for brief mentions of car accidents and child deaths - sorry!
Putting away the last body, Molly looked around, checking that no one was there to see her, before allowing her professional composure to slip for a moment.
An horrific traffic accident earlier that day had left her with five post mortems to conduct during her afternoon shift, two of which had been young children. Always the professional, Molly had remained calm whilst working, distancing herself from the victims, particularly the children, but now that her shift was over, a wave of nausea flooded over her at what she had been forced to deal with.
Packing her things up, she headed home to Baker Street and found it empty, a note left on the kitchen table informing her that Sherlock was out on a case with John and that he wouldn't be needing dinner.
"Redbeard!" Molly called out, seeking some companionship, and wondering where the dog was, as he usually gave her an enthusiastic greeting when she returned home from work. Suddenly, she remembered that he was staying at the vets for a couple of days; after swallowing a sock, a key and God knows what else, they had decided that the best course would be to have it all removed in case it caused any internal damage.
Feeling rather alone, Molly curled up on the sofa, hoping that her fiance wouldn't be too long. The usually unnoticeable ticking of the clock seemed to grow louder and inescapable, as the seconds turned into minutes, which in turn became hours. The two young children began to fill her mind, their innocent faces drifting through her thoughts.
Molly couldn't remember falling asleep, but she woke suddenly, startled to find that it was dark. Consulting her watch, she realised that it was almost ten o' clock. Then her thoughts turned to Sherlock.
"Why isn't he back yet? He should've been home ages ago," a voice in her head taunted. "I'm sure nothing has happened, but what if something has?"
Unbidden, images of Sherlock lying injured somewhere in a pool of his own blood entered her head, refusing to leave. After trying to shake away the morbid thoughts, Molly headed to bed, wrapping the duvet around her and burying her head in the pillow, falling into a restless sleep, tossing and turning.
"It's ok Molly, I'm right here," murmured Sherlock tenderly as he slipped into the bed beside her, curling around her protectively from behind, having returned at last.
Although Molly didn't wake, the tension seemed to leave her body as he lay next to her, as if even whilst sleeping she could sense that he was safely with her.
