"Miss Hooper, I'm afraid there's been a rather worrying development in your treatment options…" The concerned, young looking doctor shuffled nervously from foot to foot: he had obviously been entrusted to deliver some particularly bad news. Unfortunately for the young man, Molly Hooper was in no mood to be pussy footed around, being a doctor herself she knew exactly the feelings that this lowly intern was having, this did not entirely mean that she was sympathetic to his predicament.
Narrowing her eyes the frail woman looked far more dominating than she ought to, opening her petite mouth a quiet but deadly statement escaped her chapped lips;
"Just tell me what the hell is wrong and go and fret about some other poor wretch, I don't require your pathetic attempts at pity, I am also a doctor: and I want you to tell me the truth."
"We believe you have retrograde amnesia, you seem to be able to remember things from long ago, and your cognitive functions of movement and speech seem to be remarkably intact. In short Miss Hooper, your outward functions are returning as normal, however your memory is not really progressing how we would have hoped at this point in time. Tell me, have you met anyone you know from say the past 6 years?"
"Of course, some of the nurses have been here far longer than that, only yesterday I met Nurse Caldwell when she came into my room!"
"Hmm, you see Molly, if I can call you that…Nurse Abigail Caldwell doesn't work here anymore, she transferred over two years ago, the woman you spoke to is her sister Zoe. With your permission, we'd like to run some more tests to try and stimulate any memories you have of other people, for now Miss Hooper, don't try to shut anyone out of your life, they may be vital to your recovery."
Without another word the young man flounced out of the room, sterile shoes squeaking on the laminate floor, not for the first time molly felt a prick of fear far down in her soul, how could she forget six years of her life?
Watching the nurses shuffle past busily tapping their pagers and making notes on clipboards, Sherlock felt a sense of hopelessness. Unable to continue trying to apprehend Molly's would be murder due to his complete lack of concentration and caught between trying to win the pathologist over or tell her what an arse he truly was. Sighing under his breath he watched the young doctor leave Molly's room, deducing his instant dislike for the pathologist and his philandering ways, he also seemed to think that stealing sleeping tablets from the hospital store would go unnoticed. Sherlock made a mental note to inform John of this clear breach of conduct.
Entering the pathologist's room he was surprised to find her sitting up in her bed, clearly struggling from the effort judging by the sheen of sweat coating her pretty face.
"Molly?"
The young woman continued to stare into space, her eyes fixed on the blank, white wall opposite her. Slowly her lips formed words:
"What if I can't remember? What if I never know who any of you really are, you could be telling me anything for all I know."
Sherlock Holmes tried to deduce the young, distraught woman before him and failed miserably, she had always had the ability to see his true nature that underneath his brash attitude was a solid beating heart. That was when he realised that he could never lie to Molly about whom he really was, it was also the moment he realised that he didn't want to.