Chapter Five

Sherlock was in between sleep, a much needed sleep. He hadn't slept in three days, a case. An uninteresting case but one that had required a lot of leg work and sleepless nights. He could hear movement in the living room. He forced his eyes open and willed his legs to move. He felt ill. Throwing on his dressing gown, he found his way to the door.

A man was pacing in his living room.
"John?"
The man whirled round, his hand over his mouth in mock surprise. Sherlock moved towards him.
"What is it?"
"I..." John faltered and placed a hand on Sherlock's arm, "Sherlock, she's..."
Sherlock tensed, there weren't many 'she's' in either of their lives and the ones they had were cared for.
"She? She who John?" Sherlock tried to keep his voice calm while his heart was racing.
"Molly." John almost choked on the word, immediately Sherlock's heart ceased to beat, or at least it felt that way. He drew in a breath and out both his hands on his friend's shoulders.
"John, what about Molly?"
John looked directly into his friend's eyes and let a tear fall from his own.
"She's in a coma Sherlock."
Sherlock stumbled backwards into the fireplace.
"How?"
"She was found, on the south bank of the Thames, suffering from exposure and a blow to the head. She had a note attached to her."
Sherlock turned slowly, one eyebrow raised.
"A note?"
"It said 'Don't play with toys you don't intend to keep.' It was addressed to you."
John's voice was low and strained.
"What have you done Sherlock?"
Sherlock closed his eyes. What had he done? When had he last seen her? He couldn't even remember. Curse the woman, she'd been nothing but trouble since he'd met her. He opened his eyes, no, maybe not all the time. He flashed back to that night and his chest tightened. He went to the door.
"Where the hell are you going Sherlock?" John was almost shouting. He couldn't deal with this, not now.
"I'm going to get dressed."
"What about Molly? Sherlock? Sherlock?"
John's voice followed him up the stairs but he ignored it, all he could hear was Molly's breathless voice saying his name as he...he slammed open the door and ran to the window. Air, he needed air...

He breathed in. Who could possibly know about him and Molly? Why would anyone even care? He shut the window. He needed to see her. He dressed quickly and left, briefly noting John had gone and Mrs. Hudson was nowhere to be seen. He headed to Scotland Yard first and went in search of Lestrade. He found him pacing in his office.
"You!" Greg shouted, almost running to him, before Sherlock could confirm it was indeed him, a fist came flying into his face and he was flung to the floor.

"I don't know how you're involved in this Sherlock but I know you are and it's not fair on her, she could die Sherlock!"
He could see a million tiny lights in front of his eyes and he couldn't really register was being said to him, stumbling he got to his feet and tried to stop the blood pouring from his nose.
"Where is she?" he growled.

He waited until visiting hours were over and the wards were clear of nurses. He slid out of his hiding place and trod lightly to the bed he knew she was lying in. he approached her slowly, not sure how he was going to react. It had been so long since he'd seen her and the last time, he was hardly chivalrous. He stopped just short of her bed, he could see her blond hair falling over her shoulder, the soft rise and falloff her chest and in spite of himself he smiled. Watching her sleep was always soothing. Until he saw the machines. A thousand beeps filled the air as they monitored her breathing, her heartbeat. He stared at them in confusion and fear. Then he looked at her. Her beautiful face was swollen and scarred, her eyes closed shut in a painful slumber. He took her hand and wound her unresponsive fingers through his own.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered, pulling her fingers to his lips and gently kissing them, "I'm so, so sorry."

Tears fell freely on to Molly's hand and Sherlock fell to his knees by her bed.

John Watson stood open mouthed at the entrance to the intensive Care ward. He felt sick, tired and overwhelmed. He had never seen Sherlock Holmes cry and now he had, he didn't like it, he didn't like it at all.

Sorry for the length of time between updates! Thank you for all the follows, favourites and reviews! Very much appreciated.

- Elizabeth