Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. Also, shout-out to lilsherlockian1975 for her amazing beta skills and putting up with me!
This is How a Heart Breaks
Chapter 3
Just a Bit Worried and Maybe a Tad Anxious
"When she was warm and tender / And you pulled her arms around you / There was nothing but her
love and affection / She was crazy for you / Now she's part of something that you've lost"
A lot had happened in the few days after that fateful phone call. The Holmes were reunited with their errant child/sister, Mycroft came clean with his part in hiding Eurus away, and Molly Hooper disappeared off the face of the Earth. Well, not necessarily the face of the Earth, but it might as well have been. He knew for a fact that everyone that had tried to contact her had come up with nothing. He wanted to call her himself. He wanted to be the one to tell her why he had done it, but he wasn't sure how she would respond.
On the one hand, she might just let him brush it all under the rug. 'But would I want to do that?' On the other hand, she might want to talk about feelings. (He found himself in the odd position of not minding.) What he did mind, was ruining this hard-built friendship between them. It was a fine line that they walked, one that he feared crossing.
He had always recognized that Molly was something important to him, even before John came into the picture, and even at his lowest point he knew that she would be there for him. He had put her through hell time and again, always thinking to himself, 'This is it. This is the last straw. She's finally going to come to her senses and push me away,' and she always surprised him by pulling him closer. She had the uncanny ability to know when he needed space, and when he needed someone's presence, but silence at the same time. She'd learned how to keep her nervous fidgeting to herself and her thoughts quiet. Well, not all of her thoughts. At some point she'd developed a keen sense of when to tell him that he'd crossed the line.
In short, he knew he needed her, but with her continued radio silence he feared that just as he had come to the realization that not only did he need her, had fallen in love with her, she had finally come to her senses and decided that she was completely done with him.
He rubbed his face with his hands and groaned, threw his legs over the side of the couch and sat up. He looked around the room he was in. He had never given much thought as to why he always felt like this was a second home to him. (Then again, the apartment she lived in before she moved here had felt like a second home as well.) Her walls were a cream color with robin's egg blue trimming. He had turned the fireplace on when he came in, and the flames danced merrily behind the grate. Gauzy white curtains covered the large windows, and though he hated them for security reasons, he had to admit that they allowed for the bright, airy feel of the room.
He had been shocked by how open and light the whole place was in comparison to her old flat. It was bigger and roomier as well, and she had been so proud to find a house for a reasonable price in the center of London.
He felt a stab of residual shame for his behavior. She had been so happy and had wanted to share that happiness with him. But he had been his usual self, and was quick to tell her that the only reason she got such a low price was due to the previous owner being convicted of murder..
She had given him a sad look of resignation and said, "I know that, Sherlock. Why can't you just be happy for me for once."
"Because, I'm a bastard," he whispered to the empty room.
He had decided on his trip back from the old burnt down manor, that he would give Molly some space. He felt that he didn't deserve to go to her home that night, even though her voice whispered through his mind palace, "Anytime you need me or my home, Sherlock. Anytime," and the memory of her handing him the key echoed with it. So he continued on to John's flat, helped with Rosie, dealt with the fallout of his family, and hoped to see or hear from Molly soon.
She never called though, and she wasn't answering any texts. It got to the point that even Mycroft was a bit worried. Sherlock even went to Mike to ask whether Molly had been in to work, only to be told that she had taken some personal days to deal with a family emergency.
(Sherlock knew well that Molly didn't have any family, so what exactly was she playing at?)
He had gone to her house to see what he could deduce, but the only thing he could find was exactly what would be expected. Her cat wasn't there, her house was immaculate, as always, her sheets and blankets were in the wash (that one hurt a bit, as he remembered their night together), and her suitcase, toiletries, and some clothes were missing. Everything pointed to her being gone on holiday.
He hadn't meant to stay there for the entire night, but when he had laid down on her couch and gone into his mind palace, surrounded by her things and her scent, he couldn't help but be lulled into a sense of peace. He also knew that as much as he wished she wouldn't notice his invasion after that harrowing phone call, she would. She was nothing if not attuned to him in ways that everyone else was not.
Now if only he could be the same with her.
A sudden ringing broke the silence of the house, and he picked up the phone to see that his brother was calling.
"What is it Mycroft? I'm rather busy at the moment."
"Yes. I'm sure you are. And now I suppose you're getting all of those cameras out of Ms. Hooper's home."
Sherlock felt a sudden pang. He hadn't even thought about the cameras. He started moving toward the kitchen in that instant. "And what of it if I am?" he asked almost petulantly, moving the coffee pot out of the way, and opening a cabinet door.
"It's nothing. I'm just surprised that you haven't been ordering me to get a team out there to sweep her flat, that's all."
"I can handle this myself," Sherlock answered petulantly. "Besides, I figured you would have had that minion of yours send out a team already."
His brother went silent. The breathing on the other end became more pronounced. "Mycroft?" His tone became gentler, "What is it? What's happened?"
Mycroft's voice was sharper this time. An edge creeped into it, one that Sherlock had grown accustomed to over the years. "It's nothing. It seems that Anthea has decided that she needs a few personal days. That's all. She just failed to give the allotted notice before taking her leave."
Alarm bells started going off in the detective's mind. What were the odds that Molly went on a holiday and Anthea shortly thereafter? He was certain that they were only brief acquaintances and had only spoken during his stunt with the fall.
But the universe was rarely so lazy and coincidences that made alarms go off were usually not coincidences at all.
~SH&MH~
"Don't you wanna go for a ride / Down to the other side?
Feels so good you could cry / Now won't you do what I told you?"
After talking to Anthea and conveying as little as she could about the situation, but still gaining the other woman's help, Molly rustled up some food for them. There wasn't much in the house, but since the kids were adamant about her staying with them, she did what she could with the little that she found.
They had a picnic of sorts in the sitting room so that Aensleigh wouldn't have to jostle her leg around too much. She laid on the couch, and Molly decided that she would sit on the floor with her back against it. Andrew sat across from them, playing with some cards that he had found.
An awkward silence fell over the room and was only broken when Molly cleared her throat. Turning to her niece, she said, "Tell me who's after you guys and why."
Fear twisted the young girl's face as she looked to her lap. Her hands were fidgeting and pulling at strings on the blanket that lightly covered her legs. She shook her head, but kept her eyes lowered. "I don't know who they are, or what they want. I just know that they killed Dad and they promised to come after me and Drew."
Dealing with Sherlock Holmes for more than twelve years had given Molly an uncanny ability to see through bullshit in a split second. It was no different with her niece. A look of incredulity crossed her face as she stared the girl down. "Seriously? That's what you're going with?"
Aensleigh gulped and continued fidgeting, not even bothering to answer.
"I'm not stupid Aensleigh. You know something, and I can't help you unless you tell me what's going on. Besides, why else did you call me here?"
Aensleigh exploded then. "I didn't know who else to turn to! I don't know what my dad was getting up to, but I know it wasn't any good. That guy. The one that was in the apartment with us? He killed my dad right in front of me! He was gonna kill me next!"
Tears were streaming down the teenager's face, and Andrew had started bawling as well. He stood and cautiously walked over to them, cuddling a mangy bear the whole time. He held it out to his sister and she burst into sobs saying, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," the whole time.
Molly had dealt with emotional situations in the past, she was a pathologist after all, but this was something much different. She had always had the professional barrier between herself and the families that she would have to tell whatever her findings were, but it had been years since she had had to deal with her own family situations.
She took a page out of how she dealt with Rosie when she was upset, and she gathered her niece and nephew to her and just held them. "It's going to be fine. You'll see. I'll get you out of here and figure this out."
Aensleigh looked up at her with hopeful eyes. "Promise?"
Headlights flashed in the window breaking off whatever Molly was going to answer with. She felt the same trepidation go down her spine that she felt when Sherlock said he was going to die. "That's not right. It's too early for her to get here. She said it would be at least nine hours, and that was seven and half hours ago," she whispered.
"Aunt Molly?" Aensleigh asked, sitting up more fully. Andrew was moving toward the window to see who was visiting, when there was a knock on the door. He stopped and looked over his shoulder.
"Get back here. Now!" Molly hissed at him. "Neither of you move. Let me handle this." Molly pushed Andrew back to his sister, and watched as he cuddled to her. She went out to the foyer and made her way quietly to the door. As she reached her hand out, the doorknob started jiggling and a gruff voice started grumbling.
"I know you little brats are in there, and I will have my money. I don't care what he thought he was going to accomplish, but he's gone now, and all I need is you two out of the way, and it will be all mine."
She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. She needed to get them out and now. She turned around quickly and grabbed the chair that still sat in the hall. She pushed it under the doorknob, hoping that it would buy them some time. Then she grabbed what looked as if they were walking sticks at one point, and rushed back in to the sitting room.
"Is there a backdoor?" she asked them frantically. They didn't answer her at first; they were staring at the window behind her. She turned around slowly, and came face to face with a blinding light in her eye. "Oh. Bloody hell."
Andrew whimpered, and Molly drew her spine up. She may not have known them for long, but she was determined to keep them safe. She quickly turned back around and pulled Andrew away from his sister. "You're going to have to walk, okay?" she asked as calmly as she could.
He nodded his head and she said, "Good. That's good." Then she handed a walking stick to Aensleigh, grabbed her arm, and pulled her up from the couch.
"Back door, Aensleigh. Where is it?" The younger girl drew in a sharp breath, but managed to tell her aunt where the door was. They went as fast as they could into the hallway and through it to the kitchen. There was a small mud-room that Molly had noticed when she was cooking dinner, but hadn't given it much thought.
Her phone rang just as she was leaning Aensleigh against the wall. Grabbing it from her pocket, she saw it was Anthea. "I'm kind of busy here!" She answered harshly.
"So, I see," came Anthea's calm reply. "Where exactly are you in the house?"
"Back door. Mud-room."
"Okay. Stay there. We'll have you out in no time."
"WE?" But the only answer she received was the click of the line.
~SH&MH~
"Cause I didn't mean to be mean/ When I said all the things I said to you
But maybe the worst is the best I can do / With you"
"What do you mean they are taking in new charges? Don't they have enough going on without taking in someone else's children?" Sherlock paced back and forth in front of Mycroft's desk, running his hands agitatedly through his hair.
Mycroft sat behind his desk, leaning back in his seat with his foot propped up (not a position that he would normally be found in). He watched his brother with an air of disinterest, though he was no happier about the situation than Sherlock. However, Mycroft understood that it was out of his hands. The request came from higher up, and no matter what his brother might think, Mycroft did answer to someone else. Besides, their parents had been quick to say yes.
"You will just have to deal with it, Sherlock. They are grown adults. They can make their own decisions."
Sherlock groaned into his hands. "How did this happen? I thought they were retired from all this."
Mycroft gave him a disgruntled look. "One is never truly retired from this work. You know that. Besides, it's not as if taking on children is actual field work. They'll be fine."
"Where are their parents, what happened to them?"
Mycroft sat up in his seat, foot dropping to the floor. "What is this really about, Sherlock. You don't care one way or another if our parents take in a pair of children off the street. So do tell me what's going on."
Sherlock slumped down into the chair across from his brother. "I just… I don't know," he said on a sigh. "I'm worried they're taking too much on. What with Eurus – and all."
Mycroft's eyebrows raised in disbelief. There was more, he knew there was, but he also knew that he was lucky to get this much out of his youngest sibling. He gave a non-committal reply and waited, staring at Sherlock.
After a few minutes of silence, Sherlock broke. "Fine. It's not just about Eurus. Molly Hooper has disappeared and nobody seems to know where she is." There was pain and fear in his eyes when he looked to Mycroft, making the older man wince. The last time he had seen Sherlock this distraught was when he first lost Victor Trevor, just before he started repressing his memories.
"Yes, I figured it was something like that." Sherlock's face contorted into one of hope, but Mycroft held up a hand. "I have no more information than you do. Ever since Sherrinford and Eurus, it seems that everything has gone upside down. I don't even know where my PA is right now."
The detective couldn't hold in his frustration and started pacing the length of the office again. "It makes no sense, Mycroft. None. First Molly goes missing, then Anthea, and now our parents want to take in two random children. And you don't think anything is strange about this?"
"I think you are trying to make too much out of this. These things are not interconnected. Stamford said that your pathologist went on a holiday. She just needed a break, Sherlock. I'm sure she's fine. As for Anthea – well, I'm certain it was something of a similar nature, and our parents are feeling their age. They have wanted grandchildren for a while now. It's clear that none of their children are going to give them that, so let them help where they can."
Sherlock groaned, but acquiesced nonetheless. "Fine. Fine. What are their names? I may need the information in case I ever make it out there for one of Mummy's Sunday dinners."
Mycroft looked at him incredulously for a moment, but seeing that his brother was perfectly serious, he answered, "They go by Leigh and Drew Elmesworth. Do try to be kind, if you ever run across them. Mummy has said that they have had a bad time of it lately. Apparently the girl has broken her leg somehow."
"Yes, yes. Fine. I'll be the picture of kindness," he grabbed his Belstaff and moved toward the door. He paused in front of it, hand hovering just over the knob. "You will tell me, won't you, if you hear of anything concerning Molly."
Mycroft leaned back in his chair, folded his hands over his stomach, and studied the other man. He realized that Sherlock was genuinely scared that Eurus had somehow done something to the small pathologist anyway, and simply covering his anxiety by showing a surprising worry for the larger picture.
Sherlock looked over his shoulder at his brother, waiting for some sort of confirmation. It was his eyes that had the older man murmuring almost gently, "You'll be the first to know if I hear anything." The detective nodded once, turned the doorknob, and was gone.
Mycroft let out a breath he was unaware he was holding and said to the quiet room, "Wherever you are, Molly Hooper, you need to get home safely. And soon."
A/N: More questions than answers, I know. I'd say I'm sorry, but I do love building suspense. :)
Tell me your thoughts in a review. I love to hear them.
Reviews and faves are love!
~Jeni
