Chapter 25

"What was it with Sherlock tonight? You spent quite a lot of time with him. Did you find anything to, you know, help him for later on," Greg questioned Molly as they shared a cabbie ride back to their respective places.

Molly took a breath and spoke softly, "He's fighting it. Thinks we are going to abandon him because he labels himself as Useless. Poor thing. I don't think he has come to terms with it yet. I think that is why he acted so erratic tonight. Specifically playing a hand-eye coordination game and willingly serve tea. You really couldn't see it, but his hands were burned. He is proving he isn't some hopeless invalid in the idea we would still talk to him." Molly paused and look at Greg directly, "Did you look into his eyes tonight during the game?"

"I did and so did everyone else."

"The gleam in his eyes are gone. It is as if he doesn't now want to see any more out of those wonderfully-attentive-to-detail eyes. They are dull and void of all emotion." Molly bit back a sniffle.

"Our laughter and humour tonight was genuine, but it only masks the concern we have for him. Why would he call himself an invalid!?" Greg's voice rose the more he connected Molly's words with Sherlock's behaviour, "He certainly is not one. I don't like the thought of him trying to prove his worth to us at all. You don't prove yourself to your friends; they take you as you are and make you a better person! His burns aren't serious, right?"

"Not serious, but painful. Like any burn is so."

It was painful to the consulting detective surely, but also painful for everyone who befriended the man, Greg thought.

Nothing could be done for him, no medicine of any sort could delay the progression. Questioning "why him?"would satisfy nothing, thus not worth the trouble of grief over it. Could I ever look at him the same again? What would his life be filled with? I never expected Sherlock to be stuck behind a desk pounding away at the computer. He'd call it tedious and pawn it off to someone else whilst he probably revise his dangerous experiments. Surely there would be something that would give him interest. I can't bear the thought of him returning to drugs again, especially since that latest contact with those horrid substances was not long after his "resurrection". He sought after solving cases because "the thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through the veins" sensation of feeling euphoria over the alternative. I fear his three-patch method won't hold him for very long after that time...

Suppose he works in matters for the blind? I don't know, teach for a school for the blind? I mean there are loads of things he is able to do without needing eyesight. Learn to read ad type in Braille. I'm sure there are sources for him, beside I'm betting his elder brother could get top-rate everything for him. The best of the best, would that make a difference in his brilliant mind? I can only hope it will sustain him long enough until something else comes up.

Greg hung his head dejectedly and sighed again.

Molly gave him a weak smile, "it's a tough time now. It probably won't get any easier as things progress, but we'll pull through this, help each other most of all we will help him learn a new way of living. We need to help John and Mary right now. Finding a place to live once their married is a priority, in a manner of speaking Sherlock is fading fast, the To Be Watsons need themselves established."

Molly finished her thought and just stared out the window. Something unexpected happened that caught her completely off guard. Her eyes were moist with tears and streamed down her face She didn't even know she was crying till Greg pointed it out with concern clearly etched in his face. Why was she crying?

"Suppose it is my subconscious taking over me," Molly reasoned trying to reassure herself nothing was the matter.

"I was only looking out the window and noticing all the vibrant array of colours decorating the city..."

The light bounced off the pavement or the reflection of car lights on the glass of the shops it drives by, a pleasing sight it was.

The stars are shinning,as if they know tonight was so full if mixed emotions, to tease me. 'Hey! Look at me they call out twinkling. You can see me, but some no longer can see in the dark. Pity unto them. This is what they are missing. The glorious and marvellous creations God made, but we're nothing to him now.' Words alone would hardly even come close to describing our dazzling magnificence. "You only miss the sun when it starts to snow." (qtd. "Let Her Go" Passenger)

A terrible feeling over powered her, this is everything Sherlock has thought of she realised. She understood better now his behaviour this night then. He was not only proving to others, but more importantly to himself, to gauge how much of his ability he had left and hide the truth of it.

Why hide Sherlock? Don't push me away after all we've been through. You promised.

The five criminals were rather antsy about the whole ordeal. It was supposed to be a smooth process, but something went wrong. No one knew exactly what happened, yet their blunder landed them front row seats with an audience of NSY officers. Their Spider Lord was nowhere to be found, probably gone into planning another devious scheme whatever that may be so. If they ever made it alive out of this building they wouldn't survive the wrath of their Spider Lord.

Obviously the markings had some significance because for some bizarre reason the NSY decided to research the markings of the criminals. It was such a broad topic so much effort was expended for a little to no useful return. There really wasn't much anyone could work with since no new leads were discovered.

Was this The Ultimate Catch-22?

The case need to be solved before anything terrible could further come from the Spider Lord and wreak havoc across England, but at the same time Sherlock's mental outlook need to be cared for. He is useful. If Sherlock could solve the case it would build his confidence, but at what price? His hourglass is nearly dry, only a small mound remains. If he solved this, it very well may be his last ever, then what would come of him? Spiralling down some madness maybe? Time was the prime factor, it played the hero and the villain. Be kind to Sherlock-go slowly, yet it will hurt the Case. Time, if you be quick, you hurt the case and you shredd the hope of the one who could solve it.

A-N: something must be in the air. I have had time to write! I never do! Well, here again is another chapter. Enjoy and please leave a thought. I'm sorry I can't respond to those without an account, but thank you in advance.