Thanks to Renaissancebooklover108 for commenting they were really great. I hope y'all are liking this story. R&R please. Makes my day when you do... This story is also on archive of our own under the same username but don't read ahead. Could be dangerous. How many you can guess the name of the song at the end of this chapter.
Molly dreams and dreams and dreams. All dreams ending the same way. She is dying in Sherlock's arms. He is crying and before she gets to say "I love you" the dream ends, and she assumes she is dead. Each time she wakes up her face is tear stained and she is gasping for breath. Mum is always there, which is surprising because she was never there when Molly was a child. Always at the hospital. Saving someone's life. Until that day she wasn't saving someone, she killed them. It was a difficult procedure involving ten to fourteen hours in the operating room. Maggie lost grip of a utensil and made an incision that killed the patient. She was never the same after that. Her hands would always shake, and alcohol became her new best friend. Molly lost contact with her mum when she went to med school. Now she was in her room, brushing away her nightmares.
Sherlock would make an occasional appearance and ask how she was doing, or would rather tell her how she is doing. She dare not lie to Sherlock, he knew everything. He knew about Molly's nightmares even though he never brought them up. He didn't know the particulars other than the fact he was in them and they were sad. He never wanted to see Molly like this ever again. He needed to find who did this to Molly and why. Of course Moriarty had something to do with it based on the message he left her on her back.
Molly knew something was written on her back but she didn't know what. She knew that it made Sherlock uncomfortable and uneasy. He didn't want to tell her and she didn't want to know because she feared the worst. She knew it was meant to hurt Sherlock, but what she didn't know was why her. She didn't mean anything to him. That's what she thought anyway.
One night a couple of days before she was to be released from the hospital Sherlock appeared at her window. She had just awoken from another one of her dreams and she was crying and breathing hard. He stared at her for a couple of seconds, then did something so uncharacteristically like Sherlock. He walked over lifted her gingerly off the bed and set her on his lap. He held her close and she cried for a long time. He just held her and brushed her hair out of her face and shh'd her as a parent would shh a child.
When she was finally calmed down enough so that her sobs turned into hiccups he asked her a question.
"Molly? What do you remember from that day?"
Molly shook her head, "I don't really remember a lot. Just that I was going to see... uhm... I was going to see... you, and I was locking up my flat when if felt someone hit me with something... and then... someone caught me as I fell... and... I don't remember anything. I'm sorry Sherlock."
She twisted her face into his shirt and tried to suppress quiet sobs. "It's o.k Molly. It is fine. I will not be mad at you for not remembering anything. Just know that if or when you do you can come and talk to me."
"Sherlock?"
"Yes, Molly?"
"What is written on my back?" The question was barely a whisper but he heard her as if she had shouted it at the top of her lungs.
"Molly..."
"Tell me Sherlock"
"I.O.U." He whispered into her hair. She tensed up at the words. She knew those letters were going to scar. She had that godforsaken phrase on her back for the rest of her life. She couldn't believe it. She didn't want to believe it.
Sherlock wrapped his arms around her tighter and began to sing in a soft baritone, " Golden slumber kiss your eyes, Smiles await you when you rise. Sleep, pretty baby, Do not cry, And I'll sing you a lullaby. Care you know not, Therefore sleep, While I o'er you watch do keep. Sleep, pretty darling, Do not cry, And I will sing a lullaby." And as the sleeping Molly Hooper rested against his shoulders Sherlock was content.