Chapter Five:

Sherlock, Molly is out of surgery. - JW.

Where are you? - JW.

Honestly, Sherlock, have a heart and come see her. - JW.

That was the problem, Sherlock thought to himself. He did have a heart, and it scared him something awful. The moment he was out of the hospital, the only thing he could think of was hiding away in 221b for the rest of the day. Somewhere deep inside, he knew that was childish, but he didn't care. It was going to be too difficult to conceal what was happening inside of him; the evidence would be written all over his face. And though John wasn't incredibly observant, he knew he wasn't an idiot. John would see, Mary would see, everyone would see.

"This is why sentiment needs to be deleted from my mind palace. It makes it way from my head to my heart." Sherlock said to himself as he stared at the ceiling.

It had been his intent to come home, change into his pajamas and sneak away inside his mind palace. Of course he would be safe there. He had to be; it was the only safe place for him now. However, as he placed his palms together and let himself get lost in his mind, something startling happened.

Molly was in his mind palace.

This wasn't completely abnormal, as she had been here before. She had helped him when Mary had shot him in the chest. Molly had helped him stay alive, and for that he was grateful. However, he never expected to see her appear in his mind palace again. At this moment though, Molly was everywhere. As he walked through his mind palace, he would find her in the oddest places. She would sometimes be leaning against a wall, just looking blankly into the distance. Sometimes, their eyes would meet and that soft smile of hers would appear. Other times, as Sherlock would flee to the darkest corners of his mind palace, she would be there. Toby even appeared a few times.

"What in the world is that cat doing here?" Sherlock muttered to himself, as he saw Molly sitting in one of his many libraries, petting the feline. "This is getting to be ridiculous."

As Sherlock exited the library and made his way into the hallway, he jumped at the sight of Molly standing before him. Every Molly he had previously encountered looked exactly the same. This one, however, was different. She looked like she did moments after the car accident – blood and all. It was frightening. Not as frightening though, as the fact that she was addressing him.

"Sherlock Holmes, you cannot avoid me forever."

"On the contrary," Sherlock said, trying to move around her. However, Molly moved with him, blocking his path. The determination and focus in her eyes made him shiver slightly. This version of Molly was not the woman who stuttered and blushed around him. She was brave, and the funny thing was, he liked her bravery.

"My appearance makes you cringe, doesn't it?" She asked.

He shook his head. "No, it just...startled me, that's all."

She laughed loudly and shook her head. "You can't fool me; not here anyway. You can't even look at me."

Molly was right; he couldn't look at her. But it wasn't because of the blood on her face, the messy hair and the obvious pain in her eyes. It was because the sight of her reminded him of the simple fact that he, Sherlock Holmes, couldn't keep her safe.

"Oh, Sherlock," She whispered taking a step toward him. "I am safe. I am so safe. If you would just go and see me, you could see for yourself."

He flicked his gaze to her and frowned. "You are not safe. Look at you! You're a bloody mess!"

One of her signature smiles began to form on her face. "Yes, I am a bloody mess. Pun absolutely intended. However, I am safe in my hospital bed, waiting for you to come see me. Please Sherlock, even if you care nothing about me, just come for the fact that it is, in regular people terms, polite."

The buzzing of his phone on the coffee table stirred him from his mind palace, before he was able to respond to Molly's comment. Grunting from frustration, he looked to see who it was. John's name flashed on the screen. Sherlock stared at the phone for a few moments, contemplating whether he should answer. Answer, and he gets a lecture about human ethics. Don't answer, and he gets a longer lecture about human ethics.

He sighed and slid his finger across the screen. "What?"

"Come here. Now."

"I am not a dog, John," Sherlock said calmly.

"No, no you're not. You're a child! Molly Hooper is laying here in a hospital bed, after nearly dying, and you're at home, in your pajamas!"

Sherlock smirked at his surprisingly accurate deduction. "Well done John, well done. Maybe that blog has helped you use your brain to a greater potential."

John groaned into the phone, obviously frustrated with Sherlock's response. "You are impossible. Even if you find every moment boring and dull, you still need to come to the hospital and see Molly. You need to."

Before Sherlock could stop himself, he let his heart dictate his speech. "Making sure Molly is okay is never boring." He cringed as the words escaped his lips and silence fell on the other line. It felt like hours before John responded to his comment.

"Mary was right," He whispered softly before clearing his throat. "If I don't see you here in fifteen minutes, I'll tell the doctors you're never allowed to see her."

With that, John Watson hung up the phone. His words had triggered something in Sherlock, and within minutes, he was changed and out the door, headed to see his pathologist.

He found John and Mary in her room, talking softly and looking at Molly. Instead of making his presence known, Sherlock decided to stand in the doorway and assess the situation. Molly was lying (practically lifeless, he noted) on the hospital bed, with various wires sticking out of her. Several bags hung on the metal stand beside her bed, and noted their contents. Fluids to keep her hydrated, medication for pain, and one for possible infection. His eyes darted over to her face, looking for signs of the woman he knew.

Sherlock found none.

"10 minutes, 57 seconds."

John turned to see Sherlock walk swiftly into the room and stand on the other side of Molly's bed. "I beg your pardon?"

"That's how quickly it took me to get here."

He rolled his eyes. "Only you would keep time."

"Of course I would, considering I only had fifteen minutes before my access to this room was denied. Naturally though, I would have found a way in." Sherlock said smirking slightly.

Mary interrupted their little banter. "Now that you're here..." She turned to John before continuing. "We will leave you alone with her."

A sudden surge of panic ran through his heart. He had not anticipated this response on either Mary's or John's part. Why would they think he wanted to be alone with Molly? They were all...friends, and friends were supposed to stay with one another during times of struggle. Or, at least, that's what he had been told. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but found that nothing came out. It was very rare that he was lost for words, and as Mary and John left the room, he wished that this moment was not one of them.

For a moment, he didn't move from his standing position. But as the minutes ticked by, he decided it would be good to sit down. He hadn't realized how tired he was, and as he settled into the chair, he let out a sigh of relief. The longer he sat there, looking over at Molly's still frame, the more he realized this is where he should be. This is where he wanted to be. The thought startled him, and he sat up straighter, attempting to look less...comfortable, watching over his pathologist.

"I'm so sorry, Molly," He whispered to her, dropping his guard once again. "I...I was supposed to keep you safe, but I put you in danger. If only I had..."

And as Sherlock's voice drifted off, he found himself at a loss for words again. He scrambled to fill the silence, but found his attempts at conversation were useless. Instead, he decided to do the only thing he could think to do. The only thing he wanted to do.

For the second time in a 24 hour period, he held Molly Hooper's hand.