Chapter 24

The fiancé and fiancée snuck a glance to each other, an entire conversation played out in their eyes. There was no doubt what the final answer would be, no matter where they lived. It could be a card board box for all that mattered so as long as it was near their friends. Now was not the time to have that discussion though, it was a night for laughter and fun, they would make sure of it.

Skilfully steering the conversation away from that tender subject, Molly started talking about her friends that would be coming for a visit later in the year all the way from America. It was, after all, their first time over the pond. It had to be a memorable experience, Molly would make certain of it.

"What do you think Sherlock?" Molly asked looking at him carefully reading the veiled expressions. "Have any place particular a tourist would enjoy that isn't on the Hot Spots List. She doesn't care much to visit Big Ben or the palace...but rather wants to know the 'real' England." Molly finished with a soft laugh at her friends' definition of 'real'.

Everyone bit their tongue figuratively to keep from any noise escaping their lips; it was a sight that twisted their hearts. Molly, on the other hand, bit her tongue literally to hold back a whimper. He had instinctively turned his head to whoever was speaker, however, he wasn't looking at Molly. His eyes were glazed over, settling on the wall behind her chair.

"I believe a nice stroll in the park would be enjoyable for them then some shopping. There are many to choose from. Isn't that what women like?" Sherlock questioned looking at the wall straight of front of him. Mary and Mrs. Hudson nodded to each other. Greg looked questionably at John, who just waved his hand as if to say "I'll tell you later."

"Yes Sherlock, I would suggest a lunch there too. I'm sure they'll have a splendid time here..." Mary added.

"Good." Sherlock mumbled as he began to zone out on the conversation again. It was getting dull...

Molly, I know why you held my hand. I know why you started talking. Thank you. Why did you make a sound after you questioned everyone? Did someone make a face? You must tell me. I rely on words and sounds more so than ever before.

Much to the delight of all at the dinner table, the meal and conversation soon wrapped up on a lighter note. Everyone was settled around the fireplace throwing out ideas of what to do next. It was too early for anyone to leave yet, they weren't strangers to each other. No one would have thought it strange if the three guests spontaneously decided to camp out at the flat overnight.

"I'm parched!" Sherlock announced loudly, breaking the flow of the conversation. He stood up from his chair, deftly hopped over the worn down coffee table, and headed to put on the tea. Sherlock's behaviour was all over the place tonight, no one could follow along. One minuet he was sulking and throwing a fit and the next he willingly, WILLINGLY volunteered to put on the tea. He never does that. Never!

"What's gotten into Sherlock?" everyone contemplated, giving each other confused looks that no one had an answer to.

Twenty minutes passed and Sherlock still hadn't returned, Molly left quietly to see if he needed help.

"Hey Sherlock, how's the tea coming along? Can I lend you a hand?"

"Molly." Sherlock stated plainly not breaking his concentration in whatever he was doing; she couldn't quite figure it out. "Did John send you in here to spy on me? Make sure I wouldn't drug his tea again like that one incident?"

"Actually, no. Not at all, I just came and thought you might need some help carrying all six cups to the table." She ventured slowly carefully hiding her real reason for talking with the consulting detective.

"Oh. Yes I would actually. Thank you."

She gathered to cups and set them on a tray, as she turned to get the teapot something caught her eye. It was red.

"Sherlock, what happened?" Molly demanded gently taking his scalded hands into her. He drew back instinctively, but the grip around his wrist only tightened causing him to wince. Molly didn't have the same level of attention to details like Sherlock did, but hers was still quite good. She noticed his discomfort and pressed on for more information. "It's ok Sherlock, you can tell me. Please tell me." Molly spoke softly so the others couldn't hear their conversation.

The man sighed a very sad sigh, closed his eyes, and dipped his head down. "No, I can't. Don't worry it's just a burn mark. Nothing serious," he returned barely above a whisper. "Besides, it's not fair to anyone if I do, this is my problem. I'm the one going blind. Why should I share my problem if talking about it will solve nothing? I'm the one to be reduced to nothing in only a matter of weeks. You can't help me, so why bother trouble you with information. It won't change the fact. Nothing can help me. No one can help me. This is it. Molly, I'm at the end of my line. It's time you accept it too. "Molly said nothing, but her mind was furious. She hugged him tight and kissed his cheek.

Her dear Sherlock was suffering and hid it from everyone. It made her feel bad for him. If only he would let me in, or someone in, to help him. You would feel so much better Sherlock.

"No. You're wrong Sherlock, very wrong. All wrong. You have friends. We WANT to help you. We WILL help you. You're never a bother to me. Yes, you make me angry when you steal from the morgue, but that's just trivial nonsense. Why do you think that you have no one with you? Why do you think we're all here at your flat if we didn't care for you? Did you think we would leave you to battle this alone? We can't change the inevitable, but we can be there alongside you. Support you. You told me once that I counted, that you need me. You can have me Sherlock. I've known you for such a long time, you've helped me before. All you have to do it talk to me."

He nodded.

Sherlock, look at me. Look into my eyes."

At that she look cupped his face and pointed straight at hers.

"Do you see me?"

He nodded again, taking in every detail of her features. He wanted a perfect memory of his Molly engrained in his Mind Palace.

"Remember this and put this in your Mind Palace. Never forget it. Never. You have me, John and Mary, Greg, and Mrs. Hudson. Even your brother Mycroft. That is six people who care about you so very much. Talk to us. We will listen. This is not and one-to-one battle. Promise me this Sherlock. You've always mattered to me." Molly finished and gave him another hug.

The detective stood there in Molly's embrace stunned at her words and actions, then he found his arms holding his pathologist.

"I promise Molly Hooper. Promise," he whispered in her ear, "Thank you."

Finally returning back into the room, the two of them handed tea to everyone. "Have you thought of something to occupy the time?" Sherlock asked after taking a sip savouring the rich flavour of Earl Grey. Tea. Delicious tea. Splendid tea. Delightful tea. Wonderful tea. The most amazing substance on earth. Thank goodness for tea. A heavenly delight it truly was.

"Nope!" Mary commented joyfully, "We were waiting for you two to return with the drinks, just been chatting about work at the hospital with patients and postmortems. Boring paperwork and all..."

"Ah...so how about a card game? Fancy that?" Molly looked around the room for support.

No. I have a better idea, let's play Operation. We can play in teams."

All noise ceased at that comment. Even the drone from the air seemed to stop momentarily as if to say "repeat yourself again, I didn't quite catch it right."

An unspoken "What!?" hung in the air. It wasn't so much the question that shocked everyone, it was WHO suggested it that shocked the room.

"It had to be you, who else would suggest a game like that?" wondered John. "Under ordinary circumstances, I would have played that, but now..really...? Why Sherlock? What is wrong, what won't you tell me? This isn't the typical you."

Breaking the silence Mrs. Hudson tapped on John's shoulder, "Do you still have that game, is it playable?" He shrugged and shook his head. It was ages since he'd played that game, most likely it was shredded by his flatmate taking bits and pieces of for his more creative experiments.

"Yes we do. Top shelf of the case, about midway between the encyclopaedias, under the stack of chemical journals on poisonous horticulture. By the way, there's great article on Nightshade on page 65 of the third journal from the top with the watermark over the glycerol compound photograph."

Greg laughed and nearly choked on his tea. "Only you would bother to remember trivial information like, Sherlock. A particular article on a specific page AND recall what it looks like."

"It's useful information! Nightshade can be made into several different lethal toxins for instance..." he shot back at the DI scowling.

The ladies set up the game and decided they would show the men how to play the game. It was the 'girl power' factor they claimed loudly. Soon all were comfortably settled around the board laughing and joking as if playing this one game was the most normal thing to do even despite Sherlock's condition. Laissez le bon temps roulez (Let the good times roll!)

A-N: Surprise! You didn't have to wait forever to get the next update! Enjoy and please leave a comment. Thank you so much! Thank you making it to 100 reviews on this story!