Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy this new installment. Please do review if you can. I love hearing what you guys think.
Disclaimer: Please know that I don't own these characters. The world of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, BBC, and, of course, Sir A. C. Doyle.
Molly woke up a few hours later from the most fantastic dream. She had dreamt that her, John, and Sherlock were lying in a field cloud watching. Her hand grazed the green grass, which smelled so sweet, and picked some daisies within reach. She turned her head and saw Sherlock looking up at the sky trying to see the shapes Molly and John kept pointing out. He put his arms across his chest and exasperatedly huffed and then said 'It's just water vapor any way…Does it matter if it looks like a rabbit or a bear?' Molly looked at John and saw the crinkles around his eyes as he laughed. She laughed aloud as well and woke herself up by laughing.
'Such a good dream' she thought to herself as she kept her eyes closed. She started to stretch her arms over her head and thought about how she needed to get up to make some coffee and feed Toby.
'Toby!'
She bolted upright – instantly regretting it as all the bruises in her abdomen seized up. 'Oh!' She pulled her left arm around her waist and put her right hand to her eyes as she was quickly pulled back into the reality of her situation.
'Usually when people scream someone's name in that bed it's not their cat's' John smirked from the chair at the desk turning away from his computer and some files. Upon seeing her face though, he crossed the room to sit next to her and said 'Oh… Molls, its okay.'
"How could it be okay? How could I forget about him? He's the only one that loves me and he depends on me. And I didn't think about him at all.' She mulled out loud. 'He's probably starved to death by now.'
'It's okay. We found him yesterday when we got your clothes. Remember, when we went out yesterday. He really liked Sherlock, twisted right through his legs. His suit came back covered in white cat hair, which according to Sherlock will never come out.'
That made Molly smile a bit thinking about Toby wrapping his legs around the one man in the room she knew would hate it.
'See…its okay.' John said seeing an in. 'How about we get up and change into some fresh clothes and then get some tea?'
'Okay' Molly said softly, willing herself to do what he had suggested.
'Okay. I'll leave you to it then. All your clothes are in the duffel on the desk. I'll go put the kettle on.'
John walked out the door and Molly lay there until she heard the latch close. She meekly swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stripped off Sherlock's robe. Oh God – is this all she has been wearing the entire time. She shook her head as she stood and walked over to the desk. Luckily, there was underwear and a bra in the bag, which she quickly put on. She rummaged through the rest of the clothes and found her favorite jeans and sweatshirt. Sherlock must have packed this and figured out those were her favorite. They looked well-worn but Molly preferred to think they were well-loved. She put the jeans down on the table and put on her sweatshirt. It smelled like home and quiet and a little bit of peace.
She reached for her jeans next and accidentally knocked the file John had been looking through onto the floor. Of course, the pictures in the file fell out and scattered across the floor. Molly sunk to the ground, wincing a little as she did, and started to pick up the pictures. She started a pile and started to look at them to see if they were numbered in a certain order. Quickly, she realized what these pictures were of. This was her file. These were pictures of her. She started to tremble. Pictures of the bruises she saw last night in the mirror. Pictures of the markings she could feel on her back…on her thighs … the back of her head…things she could feel but couldn't see.
She picked up the file and started looking through it. It not only had contained the pictures but also witness statements from John and Sherlock and John's notes from the alley. As she stared at these pages…at the pictures…she was suddenly pulled forward from the grief at seeing her body so bruised and damaged and into terror as her eyes rested on one picture. It had obviously been taken at her flat and was of an arrangement of black roses. Below it was a note that was propped open saying 'I'll be seeing you – JM'
Molly screamed and scampered into the corner. She screamed again and again…each one louder than the one before. She clamped her hands to her ears and her eyes shut trying with all of her might and will to remove that image from her mind.
'I'll be seeing you.' She thought over and over again.
'No! No, you won't. No, you won't. No.' she said over and over again, bringing her knees up to her chest to shield her and putting her forehead forward until it touched them. She shook her head and continued to say 'no' as she rocked back and forth.
'Molly!' John yelled barging through the door and rushing to her side.
'Molly?' Sherlock whispered to her as he crouched beside her as well.
She continued to rock back and forth in the same manner shielding her face and muttering 'no' over and over again…not even registering John's strong arms as they wrapped around her to stop her rocking.
'John?' Sherlock said, 'John – what do we do? What happened?'
'I don't know. She was doing so well. She woke up laughing…smiling even. She was just going to get dressed and come downstairs for some tea.' He looked wildly around the room for the catalyst that had set her off – the thorn that had pricked her.
Both his and Sherlock's eyes rested on the picture at the same time and they knew. Jim Moriarty. His flowers still did the trick even though it was just a picture.
They turned back to Molly, who was still in her trance.
'Molly. You're safe. You are here with me and John. He will NOT be seeing you anytime soon. We are going to protect you, Molly. We promised you that…remember? We are going to help you.' Sherlock whispered to her.
He leaned over and grabbed her face between his palms. 'But, Molly...' .' He said as he raised her face, made eye contact with her, and raised both his eyebrows. 'Molly. You can't slip away from us, okay? Stay with us…here. Do you hear me? I understand you're scared but he is the one who should be scared Molly. Not you…him. Don't let him have that power over you. Don't just give up and crawl into a cave. Don't just give up. Come back to us and let's make it through this together. Okay? We can make it through this together.'
Molly's eyes grew wide as he spoke. So did John's. He had never seen this side of Sherlock before. His grip on her slackened as she stopped rocking back and forth - entranced now by the blue eyes that stared into hers - and he moved his hand to her back and started to smooth a circle into her shoulder.
She blinked and her eyes focused on the man speaking to her. She looked up to him like he was a harbor in the storm that was passing through her mind. Suddenly she threw herself forward and her arms around his neck. Sherlock gasped at the force but hesitantly put his arms around her back. He didn't hug a lot of people and usually those he did had a few more clothes on.
"Oh God. I am so scared. I am so afraid of him, Sherlock. I just want this to be over. I just want to be normal again. I want to be strong and safe and sound. When will this be over?'
John's heart broke as he watched this little snippet of a woman cling to Sherlock for dear life – trembling uncontrollably even with Sherlock's arms around her. He leaned forward and gathered them both into his arms. She looked up at him and grabbed his hand which was around Sherlock's back. John squeezed back trying to reassure her.
They all stayed there for a little while and slowly she stopped trembling and calmed down. John leaned back onto his heels. Then, she leaned back out of the Sherlock's arms and slumped against the wall… looking exhausted from what had just taken place.
John stood and reached his hand down to her. 'Come on, Molly. Let's get you back into bed, huh?'
She sighed, closed her eyes for a moment building up the strength to get up and gave John her hand. He pulled her up and placed her on the side of the bed. She snuggled under the covers as Sherlock gathered the file and pictures from the floor (yes! Sherlock! – John was surprised too) and John sat on the edge of the bed next to her. He pushed some hair from her face and grazed his thumb against her cheek and a few stray tears that hadn't yet dried. "Honey – we are going to let you sleep okay. You come downstairs when you're ready for that cuppa though. We are going to get this all sorted – you'll see.'
Molly nodded her head and closed her eyes, slowly drifting back to sleep…whishing she was back in the field with daisies as she heard the door click.
A/N: Poor Molly. She is going to make it through this... you'll see. I promise next time she will actually make it down the stairs and crying will be to a minimum. I just had to write this scene first... Keep an eye out this week for the next chapter.