Chapter 14

I wanted you to know I love the way you laugh
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away
I keep your photograph; I know it serves me well
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain
(Both amy lee and seether)
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right when you're gone away

You've gone away...
You don't feel me here...
Anymore...
(Amy lee)
The worst is over now and we can breathe again
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain
(Both)
'Cause I'm broken when I'm open
And I don't feel like I am strong enough- seether

After Molly had settled, Sherlock tried again to get up from the chair and this time did not startle his pathologist.(he gave up on NOT thinking of her in those terms) He knew he needed more data, caffeine, nicotine and help. He busied himself by starting a kettle for him and John. While it was heating up, he sat at the counter and opened the government's (no Mycroft's) file on Molly Hooper.

Molly had hinted at it but to see it in black and white. The long list of injuries, the nasty public divorce from her family, the trial and then the fallout of all of the abuse... Sherlock found his hand rubbing over his heart. As if that action could ease the pain he actually felt for her. The psychotic break at 13, the 2 attempted suicides at 14 and the slew of facilities that tried to help her heal. In all of the reports he saw only two things that were constants in Molly's life. Her uncanny gift for music and her insatiable curiosity were what had driven her recovery. So what had happened? The case definitely was stressful but had it been enough to trigger this ….shutdown?

Sherlock thought about it and replayed the night in his palace to figure it out. Molly had seemed fine, triumphant even, when she had told that monster off. She was fine till she got out of NSY. Then as they got to the curb it was as if she just broke. John had been in front of them cause he was walking beside Molly(he brushed off the sentiment that had him there at her elbow.) She had been looking around and then just stopped. Her expression had been one of terror or as if she had seen a ghost. Then she called his name and fainted. Sherlock did not notice anything or one out of the ordinary paying attention to them(once again brushed off the sentiment behind that too- deal with it later) so what had she seen?

He opened his eyes and grabbed the file again, this time opening up to the last page. Maybe Molly had seen a ghost. Her horrible family had been released from prison four days ago.

A while later John got back to the flat, Molly was curled up in the chair gently rocking herself. Following the smell of smoke he found Sherlock making coffee and smoking. Sherlock just handed over the file for him to read. He said not a word because he wanted John's opinion to be untainted by his own observations and deductions.

After John took the file from him, Sherlock rushed his words out so to not give John a chance to talk. "Cigrunbebackshortlywatchoverherineedsomeair." and he shot out of the flat, his coat billowing be hind him. His scarf left forgotten on the rack.

Thirty minutes he was back. Tesco bags in hand. John was surprised he had actually went and done shopping. After putting the supplies away he set up a fan at the kitchen window. He seemed even more manic than usual to John. Like he had absorbed Molly's energy as well as his own.

Once he had smoked another cigarette(John would chastise him later but not now) Sherlock walked back to were John was and just silently sat down. John's attention darted between both his friends. They were both in so much pain he wanted to weep for both of them. He closed his eyes because the tears would not be stopped. That both of them had been touched by betrayal at such young ages saddened him.

Wiping at his silent tears he opened his eyes to see Sherlock just watching him.

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but closed it quickly. Running his hands through his hair, he gave a huff and tried again.

"John …. I am so out of my depth here. I read her file and I felt physically sick. I clenched my hand so tightly I drew blood. That her FAMILY could do that and allow that to happen to her …. it makes me want break things." Sherlock shook his head as if the drive away those thoughts but John saw how his hands shook as he lit up another cigarette. " I am truly furious for the second time in my life, I want to hurt everyone who has done this to her(John agreed wholeheartedly on that). I want to help her like you helped me. I just don't know how to proceed..Hell! I am not even sure as to why I want to do any of this in the first place!"

John had just started to smile and answer that burning question when they both noticed Molly. She was looking up at directly at them.

It had first been the sound of his voice, then the smells of coffee and cigarettes that roused her. Her mind processed the sounds and the smells and she slowly untangled herself from the chair and walked toward them. She grabbed Sherlock's coffee and his cigarettes and made her way back to the chair. Once she finished the coffee she lit up a cigarette and stared once again out to a point only she could see.

The boys were heartened (though Sherlock would never admit it) to see her respond to her own needs. Maybe they would be able to keep her out of an institution after all. Once she finished her smoke but before she folded back into herself, Sherlock walked up to her and held out his hand.

"Molly" - nothing after a deep breath he bent down so he could meet her eyes. Once she locked onto him he tired again.

Molly for her part only heard the tone of his voice. The words made no real impressions over the chaos inside her head, but to the part of her that was Dr. Molly Hooper, she fought. Fought to focus her strength on breaking away from the pain that had shut her away again from the real world. Sherlock had kept his hand out stretched and she just looked at him. Her real voice was telling her trust him and willed herself to just move and to take his hand.

Sherlock talked to Molly in low tones while showing her the flat. Molly for her part just walked behind him like a living zombie. That done she walked back to the chair and folded herself back into it. She had no clear thoughts but the fireplace was warm and the sights, smells and sounds of the flat soothed her. Before the guys knew it she had drifted off to sleep...too bad her rest didn't last long. The monsters wouldn't let it.

In the middle of explaining what he thought had happen to cause this break, he was cute short by Molly exploding out of the chair as if thrown from it. She was crying, holding out her hands begging with a ghost to let her be and to leave her alone. Her head snapped back at a remembered blow then she bowed over from a punch to her midsection from her past.

At the sight of the petite woman reliving her torment something in both Sherlock and John snapped. Both of them stood up to help her, but Sherlock's long strides at him to her first. Afraid of startling her out of her nightmare he stood in front of her repeatedly calling out her name. Just trying to reach her.

Molly's eyes flew open again but she was only vaguely aware of where she was. The monsters of her past had her. She could heard a voice telling her to come back to them(them?), that she was safe but she would never be safe. She wasn't whole and she would never be whole again. Her mind kept flashing back to the letters she received. Her poor excuse of a family had been released. Mike had once told her he would see her again. What he didn't realize was that for her … he never left. None of them had.

-blink-

Every time she wore something sexy. It always ended up with her feeling dirty like when he had used her. Same with make up she never felt good about it either "whore of Babylon" her mother used to called her before scrubbing the make up and a layer of skin off.

-blink-

The few boyfriends that she had manage to have; never truly understood why after sex, she would rush to the shower. They all put it down to OCD and let it go. Truth was the shower hid the sounds of retching and sobs that would rack her after the act.

-blink-

she had few friends because who would want to be near such a "freakish little pig like you."

As soon as the thought of friends faces started to flash across her mind.

A petite blonde with large eyes and warm smile.

A kind face with glasses and a hearty laugh.

A determined face with a cocky grin and salt and pepper hair.

A warm animated face with dark blonde hair and an aura of caring.

The last face that flashed before her eyes was of a dark curly haired bloke. He had quicksilver eyes and an even quicker mind. He had such cheekbones that Paris models would kill each other for.

These flashes bought back feelings of warmth acceptance and friendship. She wasn't alone in the world not truly. She looked between the two faces before her. She had that look on her face was the one she had when she was trying to puzzle something out. Sherlock took that as a good sign. Still talking softly he held out his hand. Molly made no move at first, so Sherlock stood there waiting for her to settle her internal struggle.

Molly kept looking at Sherlock's eyes, then his outstretched hand. Words came back to her "do you trust me?" straightening up she tentatively placed her hand back into his.

He walked her back to the chair and sat back down at the same time with her. Never letting go of her hand. He just kept talking to her about well nothing in particular because he wasn't sure what he should be talking about. He just knew that his voice calmed her.

After a while she finally dosed back off to sleep. Sure she would sleep peacefully for a while. Sherlock went back to talk to John.

If the situation hadn't been so sad, John would have smiled at the "obvious" confusion on his friends face. As it was he handed another cup of tea to his friend and both sat quietly watching their pathologist sleep.

John knew that Sherlock was still so new at sentiment or at last admitting that he was capable of it, that he needed some time to process it. He would have to realize on his own that Molly Hooper had become important to him like the rest of his friends maybe even more so.

So while Sherlock thought, John remembered "the fall" as he called it . He tried to imagine what Molly had to go through alone. While he, Greg and Mrs. Hudson had been made-safe- by their actions. Molly had opened herself up to be the sole target of Moriarty's men if her part in the charade had ever been found out.

Plus she had to carry the burden if knowing that Sherlock was alive and watching her friends go through the process of grieving unable to stop their pain. She had never given anything away. Everyone ,well all most everyone, had underestimated her. Now John understood how she had been able to do it. She had her love for Sherlock plus she had the strength of living through this. She did what was necessary to protect her friends(her chosen family?)She had not even hesitated. None of them deserved her. No one(well all most no one) had seen her true worth till now.

"you are quite right John." Sherlock's quite voice shocked the doctor into looking up.

"did I say all of that out loud?"

"all I heard was 'none of us deserve her.' You are so correct. She risked everything and all I have ever done for her is to hurt. At least you and Greg have been kind to her. I have all ways been awful but she still did not hesitate to help. She still doesn't hesitate. When I hit her and did this.." he threw up his bandaged hand as if it offended him. "she put aside her fear and her pain to help me."

John understood why Molly would risk everything but Sherlock ,well he didn't see it. Not yet at least and John wasn't going to be the one to clue him in.