Then
Chapter Two: A secret
(Warning- This chapter has swearing)
Molly hated secrets.
She hated the way they stuck in people's ears like toffee, and slowly contaminated every mouth, blackening relationships with rotting lies, and nibbling at our brains like rats. She'd never had many secrets to tell. She'd never had many friends to tell them to.
But things change.
Now Molly has the biggest secret of her life.
So she took some time off work. Two weeks in fact.
The day after her diagnosis, she rang Barts hospital and mumbled into the mouthpiece about flu. It sounded believable. Her voice was raspy and quiet.
"Oh no! You poor thing! I've heard the flu is going around, and of course you take as much time off as you need. Come back as soon as you're feeling better, would you like me to let Sherlock know?"
No. Sherlock shouldn't know. Neither should Mary. Or John. Or her family. They didn't deserve the burden.
She couldn't tell them about the cancer.
Couldn't.
Couldn't.
Wouldn't.
She wondered if they'd believe she had flu.
"Yes please."
"Okay then. Get well soon!"
She dropped the phone on the floor, and stared at the ceiling. She felt nothing.
People called her. She ignored them, instead resorting to texting, claiming to have 'lost-her-voice' which wasn't a complete lie. Her entire body ached. She was so tired.
Mary texted her almost every day, constantly bugging her about health and eating well. John called all the time, and sent texts about mouldy toenails under his bed. Sherlock sent her nothing.
Every day lasted for centuries. She stared into blank spaces for five days, memorising every scratch, every crack, every pattern in the floral wallpaper.
She wondered if this was how Sherlock felt. Noticing every single digit, every single pattern. Never being able to drag himself out from the hole, never being able to stop, to turn it off.
She decided she never wanted to live like that.
One day passed.
And then another
And then more days
Everything hurt
Everything was stupid
Everything was tired
There was nothing.
And then she snapped.
Her eyes slammed open. Her dry throat caught fire. Anger bubbled inside her. The world was so petty and stupid, so small and ignorant, so unfair.
So unfair.
So fucking unfair.
She wasn't underwater anymore.
She could hope, she could scream, she could fight.
She could loose, she could win, she could see.
And she screamed.
Her face buried into the pathetic grip of a pillow, she screamed until her throat caught fire, until her stomach ached and twisted, until her head pounded like drums and the vertebra crackled in agony. The hollow feeling was gone. Now she was alive. Now she could see how fucking wrong her fate was. Now she could feel.
The world kept spinning, the clock kept moving, the TV laughed. Molly set fire to the living room, to the kitchen, to the bedroom. She clawed at her scalp pulling hair out and drawing blood under her fingernails. She bit into her hands and screamed in fury. She let everything go.
And no one knew.
"Have you heard from Molly?"
"Nope."
"Bit weird. She normally answers my texts. I think I'll pop around see if she's okay. Want to come?"
"No."
"Okay I'll rephrase that. Sherlock get up, we're going to Molly's. I'll let John know."
Sherlock didn't move. Mary grabbed his arm and tried to pull him from the microscope.
"Come on Sherlock. We're going."
"Nope."
She yanked at his arm harder and he fell off the stool as she threw his coat at him, and yanked him out by his wrist.
"Yep. We are." She snapped.
"Get off me! I am this close to finding the dog thief in London," He signalled with his fingers, "and you want to visit a woman who you can visit at any point in your life to risk the life of an innocent animal!?" Mary swivelled around and scowled at him.
"A) I know the 'dog thief' is dead because you told me so three days ago, and B) Since when did you care about other lives? Besides, I know how much you love seeing Molly after that Christmas party!" She winked at him and closed the door behind them. Sherlock glared.
"Shut up Mary. I was drunk. And I don't remember telling you he was dead?"
"You didn't. I deduced it. And you confirmed it!" She laughed and they left Baker Street, listening to Mrs Hudson complain about Sherlock's experiments again. Mary rolled her eyes as she hailed a cab.
"You know you really should buy a mini-fridge. It'd be much better for poor Mrs Hudson." She scolded as they got in.
"Nah. More fun this way." He replied, smirking. Mary hit him on the arm and told the cabbie Mollys address. Soon they were flying through London in a blur of traffic lights and raincoats.
Seven arguments over radio stations, and one million eye rolls later, they arrived at Molly's house. Mary thanked the driver, paid him, and pulled Sherlock from the car.
"Well, I've visited Molly's now, so I'll be off." Sherlock announced, turning around. Mary held him by his sleeve, and rang the doorbell.
"Shut up Sherlock, you can speak to the poor woman for only 5 minutes can't you?" He didn't reply.
They stood for a while. No one came out. Mary frowned.
"See! She's not in. Let's go." Sherlock announced turning on his heels. Mary held him in place and hit the doorbell again. This time rustling could be heard from the other side.
"You okay Molls? We just came to see how you are. I've heard the flu is going around." Mary said loudly, poking her head around to the window.
Finally the door opened. Sherlock swallowed. Mary blinked.
"Oh hey! Sorry, I must look a bit of a state." She mumbled smiling.
She stood in the doorway with hair up at every angled, marks from bed sheets over her cheeks, a puffy red nose and a tired smile. But she was smiling She looked normal. She looked like silly old Molly. Mary grinned at her ear to ear. She sniffed and returned the expression.
"Wow. You look bad. Not going to lie." Mary commented as she ushered her back into the warm and yanked Sherlock in too, shutting the door behind them. She shook of her red coat, hanging it on a hook. Sherlock stood awkwardly. Molly turned her back to them and shuffled through to the living room in her pink bunny slippers. They followed.
"Again, sorry about the mess. This is the worst flu I've had in forever." She said. Mary frowned. The room was a sea of tissues and empty packets of ready-made meals. In the corner, the TV glared and mumbled sad stories, the cream carpet had yellowed slightly, coated in the sticky rubbish, and thick blankets flooded the sofa. The room had a sort of stuffy, sticky smell, and the air felt like toffee. Molly's house had never been this disgusting. Mary bit her lip.
"Have, uhm, you been to the doctors?" She asked looking awkward. Molly swirled around looking vacant.
"It's just, your house is normally impeccably clean, this must be pretty bad flu." She added quickly. Molly shrugged.
"Don't think I need to now. I seem to be getting better. All I've got to recover from now is this hellish cold." She stated, pointing to her puffy nose. Mary nodded sympathetically. Sherlock hadn't said a word. He looked out of place. Like he didn't quite belong somehow. Like he knew something.
"Hi Sherlock." Molly mumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear glancing down. He nodded to her stiffly. Mary giggled and elbowed Molly.
"Maybe I should leave you two love-birds to it! I'll go make tea." She glanced up with wide eyes, and a crimson blush on her cheeks. Mary watched. Somehow, in some way, something was wrong. She shook it off. Molly is fine. Don't be silly Mary.
"We're not- I mean- Me and Sherlock-" Mary laughed as she stuttered, and went to the kitchen. Sherlock rolled his eyes, but didn't move. Molly flopped down on the sofa, fiddling with the rubber buttons on the TV remote. Sherlock stayed standing. The silence was sticky. Sherlock cleared his throat.
"So, how's… James…?" He tried. Molly sighed.
"It's Jack Sherlock. And he's fine. We're going to see my Mum this weekend. Hopefully they've forgotten Tom by now. " She said. He couldn't see her face, but her voice was quieter. Something was off. She loved seeing family. Maybe she'd had a fight with her Mother. Yes. That was it. Just a petty argument.
He didn't ask.
He doesn't know why.
Maybe he just didn't want to know.
Instead, he nodded, and finally pulled his coat off, draping it over the back of a chair opposite Molly which he sat down in. She smiled. A plastic expression.
"Any interesting cases?" She asked, knowing how much he loved to talk about his work. He visibly lit up.
"Oh yes."
They spent the next three hours listening to Sherlock rattle on about a million deductions he's made from some poor sods laptop, who the dog thief stalking around London was, and drinking tea. Molly sat cross legged on her purple sofa with her bare feet tucked under her legs, and laughed at the right points, made morbid jokes and sniffled. Mary watching her like a hawk, and Sherlock pushing doubts to the back of his mind.
Molly sometimes smiled and watched them with the same expression a mother wears. Fondness, and comfort. In a way, they were her family. And while she had to fake a few smiles and a few laughs, it was worth it. It was worth it if she'd never have to see their expressions droop or their happy bubbles burst. She wanted them to be normal with her. Even if she was anything but.
Eventually their topic moved to Moriarty."
"Any trails on the 'Miss Me' tape Sherlock?" Mary asked. Molly choked on her tea.
"You okay?" Mary said, patting her on the back. Molly nodded, brushing her aside. Mary frowned slightly and turned back to Sherlock. He tensed. Mary smiled and patted his arm.
"Don't worry. You'll get there." She assured him.
"Right Molly?"
Molly nodded, hiding behind her mug, gripping it like her life depended on it.
"You sure you're okay?"
"Don't worry, I'm okay."
Molly stood on her step in her purple fluffy dressing gown. Mary hugged her skinny friend. Sherlock tapped his foot, about to explode with boredom.
"Get well soon okay? It's a nightmare dealing with both of them!" Mary stage whispered. Molly giggled. Sherlock glared.
"For gods sakes! Do you really need to hug her for that long!? Let's go!" He snapped, and jumped into the cab. Mary laughed, and purposefully walked at a snails speed to the cab, waving at Molly. Molly smiled and waved them off as they disappeared around the corner.
She closed her eyes.
She was okay.
Turning around, she went back inside, locking the door behind her. Her face deflated, her insides sinking like dead balloon. Her head rested against the cold wood of the door as she listened to the cold silence of the house.
"Hello Molly."
She gasped, swirling around.
"Did you miss me?"
Thankyou to Yami, catsgotmytongue, and InMollysWildestDreams for reviewing! And please let me know what you think so far. I feel like I'm either adding too much description, or not enough. Love to know what you think J(Feel free to PM me any story ideas)