Chapter 20

Author's Note-Hi guys, just so you know, I'm changing something! Emilia Clarke is no longer my preferred Sherry. I'd rather Jenna Coleman (Clara Oswald in Doctor Who) to be my Sherry...Also! Tom is Elijah Wood! Anyway, I'm going to stay overnight somewhere else...

I woke up on a not-so-comfortable bed, in an unfamiliar room. The first thing I noticed was the handcuffs. I was cuffed to the bed. Wonderful. I saw loads of flower bouquets, and fruit baskets. A box of chocolates too. And then came the pain. I tried to lift my head up an inch, and I had this sharp pain fingering from the unreachable center of my head. I winced in pain. I heard some sounds from the side of the bed, and I realized I wasn't alone. "Sherrinford?" I croaked. And then I remembered.

Sherrinford calling out for me. Me slipping and falling into the cold water. Me being drifted away. The splash of Sherrinford diving into the water after me. Him calling out my name. Me trying to get to him. Me hitting my head against a rock. And his body floating past me.

I didn't know why I thought it was him. Maybe it's because he's always there for me. Maybe it's because I knew he was going to stay to make sure I was okay. Maybe it's because I knew he would be worried sick. Maybe it's because I wanted him to not be floating in the ocean somewhere because of me.

"Sherrinford. Where..." I heard sobbing. Molly was seated next to the bed, in a chair. She was crying. "Molly?" She lifted her head up at her name.

She was obviously tired. She had red-rimmed eyes, blotchy from crying a lot. She looked disheveled. She was wearing her white doctor's coat, with her hair pulled into a simple ponytail. But her eyes. Her eyes were filled with grief, sadness, emptiness, despair, anger, depression.

"Sherry. You're awake." She said, her tone surprisingly flat. She looked like she would murder you with her glare.

"Molly...is he-"

She ignored my question by flipping her file open, very loudly and pointedly. "Your baby is fine, surprisingly. You only suffered a mild concussion, and you've been out for a few days, but that's normal. Anyway, you'll be out in a few days." Her voice was shaky, as if she was trying to compose herself.

"Molly."

"Sherlock, John, Mary, someone named Tom came to visit. They brought all of those." She gestured to the flowers.

"Mol-"

"Mary told me to call her when you wake up. I better go and-"

"Molly. Where is Sherrinford?" I said, exasperated. She bowed her head down. "Molly? Please, just tell me."

"We were unsure of what to do, what with Moriarty there and you running out. But then Moriarty started to scream for his driver to go after you, but the driver was protesting. Sherrinford and I got a cab, and we rushed after you, well, your general direction. We kept looking for you. Then Sherrinford told me that you said that you'd love to go to the Clevedon Pier with the baby, to see everything." I smiled at that.

Sherrinford asked me where would I take the baby to, when it's born. I started spewing the normal stuff, like the London Eye, watch the sunset at some beach, and then I mentioned looking for a nice pier to go to, somewhere that had cotton candy and wind slapping at your face. I told him about Mum taking me to Clevedon Pier when I was six. It was my birthday, and I was obsessed with cotton candy. She whisked me there, not telling Dad, Sherlock and Mycroft where we went. She said it was girl's day out. I was ecstatic about it, knowing that there was a cotton candy stall at the end of the rainbow journey. We went there, me bouncing excitedly, and Mum literally beaming, happy to see me so delighted. We found the cotton candy stall easily enough. The man who sold them was a nice man, with a sweet grin, as sweet as his cotton candy. He engaged small talk with Mum, and I remembered thinking that him and Mum looked like best friends that had millions of things to want to catch up about, even when they were strangers. I wandered about and saw the most beautiful sunset ever, well, in my opinion. I remembered hoping to watch the same beautiful sunset here, with my future husband, and my daughter Amethyst (yes, I know, all figured out, I was six!) and eating the cotton candy. And if someone told me that everything would change in a matter of nine years, I would've shook my head, stubborn, lost in my little girl dream.

"We thought you'd go there, but the cabbie was being an arse," Molly bit her lip, as if saying the word 'arse' was terrible. "And we were kicked out from the cab. Fortunately, a cab came along, 10 minutes later! We sped to the pier as fast as we could, breaking every law in driving. When we arrived, we gave the cabbie the fare and some tip money. We saw you struggling with this guy, and when we were halfway towards you, you were already on the ledge, that guy defeated. And then you fell, which reminded me of Sherlock falling those two years ago. Sherrinford, of course, being the stubborn hero he was, dived in. I couldn't swim, so I stood there, watching everything. Then I called the police, afraid. And...And." She burst into a fresh batch of sobbing mess, indicating that the terrible was coming. "I saw you hitting your head against that huge jagged rock, and Sherrinford, he...I'm not sure what happened, but he stopped swimming suddenly, and I saw that the water around him was red, and he just...he couldn't get to you. And then he just...drifted away, and he was going further and further from the shore, and..." She collapsed into a hiccupping mess.

"I'm so sorry." My tears welled up and spilled freely down my face. I was crying, a big ball of snotty, ugly wet mess. I've said the word 'mess' 3 times bow, and that word rang true. We both were a mess. I was a mess. I was the one who got kidnapped by Jim Moriarty. I was the one who agreed to be his crime partner. I was the one who plotted against my brother. I was the one who was close to Sherrinford. I was the one who came back to Jim after two years. I was the one who got pregnant, although it was Jim's fault, not that I'm pointing fingers. I was the one who ran out of the bookstore. I was the one who was about to commit suicide.

I am to be blamed for my brother's death.

"It's all my fault. If I hadn't fallen in love with bloody Jim, he wouldn't have come back to London. And it's my fault for-"

"Sherry, stop. Don't be so hard on yourself. You were kidnapped, and it wasn't your fault." She tried to console me.

"I was the one who didn't fight back."

"You attempting suicide was not right, but you were desperate. I get it." She doesn't get it. She's always so chirpy even when her boyfriend was a fucking psychopath.

"Sherrinford told me that he would take care of the baby. And...And stupid me, I had to go to the bloody PIER to fucking die! Why couldn't I just hung myself!" I should've killed myself in an easier, less hassle way.

"Sherry! Don't! I know you're depressed, and confused, and totally baffled, and just angry at the world. I know you're probably shouting at the universe for giving you a crappy life, but think about it. Everything happens for a reason."

"Bullshit." I muttered.

"You've had many rough bumps in your 20 years of living, but there is always a smooth pathway in life."

"Yeah, the smooth pathway was called Sherrinford Holmes, and now he's lying dead in the bottom of the bloody English Channel or something!" I snapped. She visibly flinched at my outburst. "There's the harsh truth! He's the only good thing that's happened in my life, and now? He's gone, washed up somewhere, or dead!"

"Sherry..." Molly said my name softly, like it was breaking her heart to hear me like this. It probably was, but what can I do, it's all my fault that he's most likely dead somewhere.

I pulled the white hospital-issued blankets away and started to tug at the IV tubes connected to myself. "You two are so alike." Molly said.

"Yeah?" I asked, a little surprised. Sherrinford and I were close, really, but that pretty much it. He's calmer, I'm recklessly diving into the deep unknown waters (that was a bad joke on my own wounded self).

"You both can't stay in a hospital for long." Molly gave me a small smile.

"It's a Holmes thing." I remember Sherlock and I getting injured and having cuts and bruises. We were five, I think. We were in a hospital because I sprained my ankle. We couldn't stay even for a few hours. We sneaked out of the hospital, but Mycroft caught us. So, yes, I suppose it is a Holmes thing.

As I pulled on my jeans, I noticed that Molly was only looking at me. "You're not gonna stop me?" I asked, surprised. The first ever person to not stop me from sneaking out.

"You'd probably knock me out, or something." She shrugged.

I stared at her, my expression stricken. "I would never hurt the love of Sherrinford's life!" I mentally slapped myself for saying that.

"What?!" She stared at me, her eyes wide.

"I...uh...um..." I have never been this speechless in my life. Or having any trouble speaking! I decided to confess. "Sherrinford loved you, you know? When he talks about you, his eyes were bright with happiness and joy."

"He's talked about me?" I nodded.

"Anyway, he told me that once did something horribly wrong to you, and he knew he was going to be reminded of it every day, just by seeing your face. But he said he was fine with it, as long as he never had to leave your side ever again." Molly's tears threatened to spill. I went over to her and enveloped her into a hug. "He loved you so much, that all he could talk about was you. And when he talks about you, he says your name like it was something precious. Like he was in awe."

"But I'm just regular Molly. Molly the shy girl who's been so soft-spoken." Molly sniffed.

"Not to him, you're not. He spoke of you like he was witnessing something beautiful. Like he was seeing a beautiful sunset."

"Why would he? I'm just that plain girl who works in a morgue, and the occasional living patients."

"Have you been listening? He loved you so much that he would die for you!" Shit. Fuck. Word vomit. Word overflowing. Loss of better vocabulary. Loss of the sensitivity that was crucial. But Molly was strong. She wouldn't crack in this case.

"He loved you too." Molly said quietly, so quiet I didn't quite get her the first time. "He loved you so much that he actually died for you."

"Molly, I didn't mean that. My brain goes blabbing and boom! I've insulted people."

She didn't seem to hear me, as she grabbed her things and left me alone with my thoughts.