I just want to thank everyone who favored or followed this story. And I want to thank Lola Cola 7 the uplifting reviews!
Sherlock quietly walked down the hallway, following Mary to what he assumed was Molly's room. Whenever Mary stopped to check out another patients charts he would slip in the doorway of another room or pretend to be busy with other nurses, asking them for directions to a room. He thought that she had no idea, until she turned around just outside of room 221.
"Sherlock Holmes, what the hell do you think your doing?" She planted her feet and put her hands on her hips. Sherlock took a minute to respond, "Well, Molly is my pathologist. I need her at full capacity. If you don't mind I would like to check in on her every so often just to see if she is... o.k." He glanced down at the end of his sentence to the note in his pocket. Mary's eyebrows rose, but she didn't say anything, just showed him into the room. Sherlock stopped in his tracks. A woman who looked like an older version of Molly sat sunken in by the bed. Her skin was wrinkled from smoke, judging by the smell, and her hair was a light shade of grey. Otherwise every thing was precisely Molly.
Sherlock entered the room and the older version of Molly looked up. Her eyes were the same brown, doe-like eyes that Molly's was. She squinted and as she stood up to greet him she wavered a little onto her left foot then back onto her right. She reached for the chair. She was clearly inebriated. Sherlock just let out a sigh. He didn't deal with drunk people. She slowly walked over to shake his hand.
"The names Maggie. Maggie Joule-Hooper. Molly is my daughter and I have no bloody idea who you are, so you must be Sherlock. Judging by the coat and the "adorable black curls" as Molly describes them. You look tired, probably haven't slept in at least twenty-four, no twenty-six, hours. You are a past drug addict and your eating habits are atrocious. You are an unfeeling man, which means either you think my Molly is going to wake up soon, or you care for her. Highly unlikely, is the latter. Have I missed anything, Dear?"
Now, Sherlock was never speechless, but this woman was a surprise. He had never been deduced by anyone, other than Mycroft. He blinked a couple of times, then stated, "Ms. Hooper, it is a pleasure to meet you. Though I do have to tell you I do not appreciate being thoroughly deduced in front of..." He looked behind him but didn't see Mary anywhere. That was odd, a moment ago she was standing there.
Maggie went and sat down in her old spot next to the bed, sashaying her hips back and forth. She was more confident than Molly. He went over to the window and went into his mind palace. He needed to place his newly acquired information into Molly's room. When he entered the foyer he saw another pair of shoes at the entrance. A small brown pair that Molly always wore. That was peculiar. He entered the rest of the rooms to find small things that Molly wore or had. In his study he found a pair of glasses sitting on top of a romance novel. In his kitchen he found a cup of tea with lipstick that she wore on it. She was taking over his mind.
He was taken back into the real world when Maggie Hooper made an abrupt move from the bed. Sherlock went towards her until he heard, "Mummy, is that you?" Sherlock stopped in his tracks. Molly was alive. His Molly was alive.