Chapter 2
Molly woke late that afternoon to the sounds of people moving and chatting on her corridor. She had been placed, temporarily, in the FBI recruit accommodation "until a more suitable residence could be prepared for you, Doctor, we kinda had very short notice on this one." So said the Assistant Director of the FBI in Quantico, extremely courteously, as he greeted her in his office. He had suggested that she get some sleep and they'd meet up later for a proper debriefing. She'd been happy to comply. The marines had escorted her to the small room and handed her a key.
"There's a landline inside, Ma'am. Please just call this number when you wake up" one of them said, and handed her the AD's card. Feeling a little on automatic pilot, she'd smiled and nodded and closed the door behind them. Turning around in the small room, she opened her case, pulled out Sherlock's rugby shirt and stripping to her underwear, she picked it up and held it to her face. She could pick up a faint scent of his cologne, and him, and she pulled it on and climbing into the bed, she pulled the covers over her head and cried out all the stress and grief of the last hours. Then she had cleaned herself up and fell back into the bed into an exhausted sleep.
By 18:00 Molly found herself back in the AD's office. He reintroduced himself as AD Mark McBride, and Molly was struck by how kind and considerate he was. He told her he was aware of who she was and why she was their 'guest'. He was sympathetic and practical. He told her he estimated that she would be with them for a number of months, that she should not attempt to leave the compound but that it was 'like a small town here' and she could get everything she needed onsite. He handed her a boxed package with a mobile phone, credit cards in the name of 'Dr Mary Smith' "courtesy of the British Government" and she was not to worry about credit, "according to a certain Mycroft Holmes" and he winked then at her.
Molly smiled back at him. She'd taken to him and was grateful for his straightforwardness. He told her, apologetically, that the phone could only make outward calls to within a three mile radius, but she could receive calls 'from anywhere'. There were also keys to a jeep, and security clearance cards, again in the name of 'Dr Mary Smith'. He also advised her her that he wanted her to undergo a complete medical check, including x-rays on her wrist, as they couldn't risk having the London ones sent over to them. Then he asked her if she had questions or anything she'd like to say and she nodded.
"Thank you so much and yes, there are some things. I am a trained forensic pathologist and I know you train your agents here, and that you have a 'body farm'; so I'd love to give some tutorials, if possible, for my duration here. I have plenty of experience training interns at home. It would keep me busy and I can be of some use to you."
"I was hoping you would say that, Doctor Smith," he smiled at her, "we'd be delighted to have you on board. And yes, everyone will assume you are not 'Mary Smith' but they won't ask questions here. If anyone does, you come to me immediately." She assured him that she would and then she said determinedly,
"I would also like to do self defence classes Mr McBride, if that's ok with you, as many as possible and as often as possible, even with this cast, please, and also, I would like to build up my fitness levels. I think it would be good for me and anyway I...," she faltered slightly and kept going, "I promised someone special that I would, and I mean to keep that promise".
The Assistant Director laughed at that and replied, "God knows Doctor, you are in the right place for that, I'd be happy to oblige. There's just one thing though. You must call me Mark."
He'd left it at that, telling her his wife would be in contact later in the week to arrange to invite her to dinner, and then he personally drove her to her new residence. It was a lovely spacious two bedroomed house 'spousal quarters,' he'd explained, with it's own back garden. Her stuff had already been packed and delivered by the time they'd arrived. She found her case sitting on the hallway floor. She picked it up and carried it into the bedroom. She explored the house then and was grateful to find the fridge fully stacked. Molly took a deep breath and looking around her, vowed to make the most of her time here. She plugged in the phone, determined to keep it charged, and wondered when she would hear from Sherlock.
Six weeks later she still had not heard one word from him or anybody else.
Molly had stuck to her word and settled into a routine. She rose early in the morning, and went for a run, in all weathers, building up her durability and distance. Then she taught the trainee agents for two hours every day. After teaching class she went to the lab to prepare for her classes and autopsy demonstrations for the next day. Every afternoon she attended self defence classes and participated as much as she could with her temporary impediment. She was determined to learn how to defend herself and to get fit. She also found the exercise to be a great outlet for her emotional distress too. Because by the time the first week was over she was very angry indeed. Angry at her predicament and the open ended nature of it, and as the days went by without any word from Sherlock, or anybody else from home, she moved from hurt and incredulous to livid.
As the long days turned into weeks, she learned to stop checking her phone, because every time there was no message, no missed calls, no word from London, or Sherlock, the hurt would wash over her heart in waves. She became subdued and introverted, particularly when she wasn't teaching. She was polite and friendly with all around her, but her smile never quite made it to her eyes. She lost a lot of weight over the weeks, that she couldn't afford to lose. She realised she'd have to eat properly to manage her training regime, because her energy levels flagged, so she forced herself to. She also dined with some of the teaching staff, or the McBrides, at least once a week, knowing that if she didn't, they'd be concerned.
She was just going through the motions though, and frequently, at night she would bury her head under the covers and choke back the sobs, overwhelmed at the scale of her abandonment. The month of February came and went, and as the weeks went by she got fitter and more furious. Then one evening, in mid March, her phone rang, just as she was about to go out to meet Sheila, Mark's wife, for an late run. Thinking it was Sheila cancelling, she answered without checking the number,
"Hello?"
"Hello Molly."
It was Sherlock, finally, and although her heart jumped in her chest, she said nothing at all. "Molly? Are you there?" and when she did answer, she was cold and remote.
"Am I here? Yes Sherlock, I've been here for quite some time now, as it happens." There was silence for a second.
"I know Molly, I'm sorry. I couldn't risk it before now. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Actually, I'm on my way out to meet someone, so I'd better go. I don't want to be late."
"Molly, wait...please..." and the silence went on so long, he thought she'd gone, and then she said, in that brittle, detached voice he hated,
"Oh, I did wait, I waited and waited, for so many weeks, for even one word from you. Anyway, thank you for calling." He gritted his teeth and tried again.
"Alright Molly. I know you're angry. I can't say I blame you. I will call you back tomorrow though, and every day I can from now on. I'm sorry, so sorry about all of this." She relented a little bit then, and asked him quietly,
"You will? You'll call again tomorrow?"
"Yes Molly. I promise." He paused and asked her softly, "will you talk to me then, my darling?" Tears filled her eyes and she choked back a sob.
"Probably," and he laughed ruefully.
"I'll live in hope then, and Molly?"
"Yes Sherlock?" and he closed his eyes, and exhaled in relief because she'd finally spoken his name.
"To say that I've missed you would be quite the understatement." She sat down on the side of the bed, tears running unchecked down her face.
"Oh Sherlock! I've missed you too. So very much." He smiled and softly said,
"Don't cry Molly."
"I'm not!"
"Molly.." he chided gently, and she laughed through her tears.
"Oh alright, I am a little. I...it's just so good to finally hear your voice"
"And yours, my darling girl." he rasped, and added quietly, "I've been so worried."
"No! no, you mustn't worry Sherlock. I'm fine really, and I'll be so much better now that we've spoken. I'm training really hard you know."
"So I've heard." He replied, and she laughed.
"Oh have you now?" and Sherlock smiled down the phone.
"Of course! Mycroft gives me daily updates. I've insisted on that, at the very least." She exhaled deeply, relief pouring out of her, knowing that she was wrong about being left all alone.
"That's good to know. I've been feeling a little abandoned." He was quiet for a second.
"They're looking after you, the Americans?"
"Oh they really are Sherlock. They've been terribly kind, and guess what?"
"I never guess Molly," he said quickly, and she giggled, and the sound of it delighted him.
"Yes you do!"
"Molly! The very idea..." He laughed with her. "You're getting your cast taken off tomorrow."
"Yes! finally. I'm so pleased."
"Your wrist will be weak and thin Molly, you know that, right? Please don't get a shock. You'll build it back up very quickly."
"I know," she said softly, "I wont be shocked, honestly. That's nothing towards what I've been through lately." He sucked in a breath.
"I know my darling, I promise I'll make it up to you."
"Sherlock, I wasn't..."
"I know you weren't, Molly, but I will make it right. Emm, Aoife has been working on the refurbishment of Baker Street, and on our lab. It's already taking shape. I hope you'll love it. I think you will."
"She has?! Oh Sherlock! That's wonderful. I'd sort of assumed that was all on hold. I'm so glad it's not!" He smiled down the phone.
"Far from it. She has a whole team of Irish builders working for her, hanging on her every word, you know what she's like." Molly laughed at the mental image. Then he murmured softly to her,
"I meant every word I said to you in Ireland Molly. You do know that, don't you?"
"Yes, Sherlock, I do know. I wear your ring every day and night. It never comes off my hand. I'm so sorry I was a cow earlier."
"Forget it Molly, it's perfectly understandable. I imagine I'd be more then a little peeved at you too. I am sorry to have left it so long. I will explain further later on. OK?"
"OK." She paused then and asked him, softly and lovingly. "Sherlock?"
"Hmm?"
"How have you been?" He sighed and then laughed ruefully.
"According to John and Mycroft?"
"No. According to Sherlock Holmes." And he smiled at her determination to press him for the truth.
"Let's just say I'm a lot better now too, having heard your voice."
"Are you sleeping?"
"Enough."
"Sherlock..."
"Well It's just so damned hard without you Molly." he said back tersely. "I got very used to having you in my bed, you know." His voice cracked a little, "It's hardest at night, alone with my thoughts, and wanting you with me so badly." Molly swallowed tears back furiously, and sighed.
"Tell me about it... I physically ache for you Sherlock." She paused and smiled wistfully. "yes, especially at night, I long to have you in my arms again."
"And I you."
The doorbell rang and she sighed. "Sheila's here Sherlock. It's late there now anyway. Will you go and try to sleep? Listen to me now. I love you Sherlock Holmes, and I'm fine now that you've called, so try, for me, please?"
"Alright Molly, and Molly?"
"Yes?"
"I love you too, and for the record, right now, I couldn't be more proud of you."
Sherlock said goodbye then and hung up the phone. Molly sat for another minute and held a hand over her smiling mouth, breathing deeply. Then she ran to the door and beamed at Sheila, and her smile lit up her eyes for the first time since she arrived on American soil. Sheila grinned and pulled her into a hug.
"It's about time girl!" Molly laughed loudly.
"Better late then never Sheila!" Molly ran her first ten kilometres that evening.