2. Today I spoke to someone who understands

Molly is looking at the new bodies. She's wondering where she'll start when someone walks in. She turns around and is surprised to see John. Alone.

"Hello," she says and asks: "What are you doing here?"

John smiles. "Hey Molly. Sherlock told me you know about zombies. Even if he still thinks they can't be real."

Molly stares at John. "What?"

"Would you like to have coffee?" John asks. Then he frowns. "Of course, somewhere where we won't be overheard, because talking about zombies usually makes people look at you weird."

"What do you know about zombies?" Molly asks. She has taken a step towards John, trying to read something in his face.

"Well, I used to kill them."

Molly closes his eyes for a moment. "My office. No one will bother us there." She smiles a little. "I do have an office because some people think I shouldn't spend all my time in here. That I should have a place to eat and drink, even if I don't normally use it."

She and John get themselves coffee and sandwiches and Molly guides John to her office.

"So, your days in the army were a bit different. Did you by any chance know one Amber Davies?" Molly asks, watching John intently, and she can tell the moment John enters his memories.

For a while it's quiet and Molly takes a bite of her sandwich. Then John opens his mouth. "Yes. She had been there for a few weeks before I was taken there. Amber was good at what she did. She died in an attack, I think. Why?"

Molly was nodding. "She was eaten by ten zombies." She stares at her coffee when she continues: "She was my sister."

John stares at Molly. Openly stares. "I'm sorry," he says and reaches to touch her hand. "I really am."

Molly smiles a sad smile. "It's been couple of years. She had told me what you were against, even if in the beginning I didn't really want to believe her." She drinks her coffee and sets the mug on the table to look at John. "It's actually nice to finally have someone to talk to about this."

John squeezes her hand. "Any time."

Sherlock is making food when John comes home.

"Who are you and what have you done to Sherlock?" John asks, walking into the kitchen. He sits at the table and smells the air. "What are you making?"

"Haha. Old joke. You really should stop being so surprised every time I make food," Sherlock says, turning to look at John. He's obviously reading John to know what happened with Molly, but John doesn't mind. "I'm making spaghetti and minced meat. Also, I made a cheesecake for dessert. So, how was your chat?"

John rolls his eyes. "You wouldn't believe me, anyway. Quite revealing. I didn't know Molly had a sister."

Humming, Sherlock turns back to food and tests the spaghetti. "Actually, she has two, the other one being dead."

"Oh. Well, I found out about the dead one. Used to serve with her, I did. I remember her death, too," John says and closes his eyes for a while. "I'm starving, will it be ready any time soon?"

"Quite."

"Good. Bring me a plate, will you?" John asks, getting up and walking to the sofa. He turns the television on, knowing Sherlock will just tell him to get his own food. Which is why he stares at Sherlock, puts his plate down and tests his temperature when he actually does bring him food.

Sherlock huffs. "Really now."

"Did you hit your head or something?"

"I'm merely trying to bribe you into telling me more about zombies," Sherlock answers, sitting next to John.

John sighs, relieved. "Don't do that. It's scary. Just ask me if you want to know something, okay?"

Sherlock shrugs. "Tell me, then. How did Molly's sister die?"

"I'm not sure if I should. You should ask her." John takes the plate and starts to eat his food. "Delicious," he says and turns to watch the television.

"Okay then. Tell me how you first found out about zombies really existing."

John sighs but puts his plate down. "I was patching a civilian when I got a letter. I thought it was a joke, at first. It was signed by MH, which I have later found out means your brother and-"

"...you were serious when you wondered how my brother had let that book into book stores?" Sherlock asks, staring at John.

"Well, yes, certainly. Though I wouldn't put it past him that he had told someone to write the book," John answers, wonder evident in his voice. He smiles a little. "You know, you really should talk with him about this, too. He is the one who gave me the permission to tell you anything."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Anyway, the letter told that I was asked to join the group leaving for Afghanistan to fight off zombies. I didn't believe it until I was just taken away and saw them for myself. It was like that for most of us," John says. He turns to face Sherlock. "He was quite surprised when we met, you know. Not the first moment, but after he had checked my background."

"I'm surprised he let me stay with you. Or you with me."

"So am I."