AN: Before I am chased with torches and pitchforks, I'd like to appease you all by saying "Look how quickly I updated!" Now that that is out of the way, let me warn you that this chapter is full of angst! And it's a little dark... Sorry I know that you guys are ready for Sherlolly love, but it is on the way... I promise! Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoy! :)
*FYI: Italics= person on the other line of the phone
At the dissolution of a relationship, Sherlock Holmes knew that Molly Hooper would complete a series of ritualistic stages. The first stage: cry. The extent of her crying depended on her attachment to her partner. For example, when Samuel Jordan (her first real relationship after graduating university) suddenly broke up with her, she cried for a week straight. However when Peter Lewis (a boring accountant) broke up with her, she was perfectly fine within three hours.
The second stage, taking time off from work, was also contingent on her regard for the man. For instance, Peter Lewis was worth one day (enough time to get the smell of his dreadful cologne out of her couch), whereas Jim Moriarty- who couldn't really be considered a boyfriend- warranted a three month sabbatical. Really, no one could fault her for that.
The last stage was the only one that did not rely on sentiment. No, rather it relied on how much time it took for her to wipe the memory of the ex-boyfriend out of the flat. Sometimes it would take two days, sometimes a week. But every time, she would box up their personal items to return to them and then scrub and sanitize everything in her home. Sherlock could appreciate this step, as this was much like his deleting information from his mind palace. Although unlike his technique, Molly usually ended up smelling of disinfecting agents and acquiring blisters on her delicate hands.
Sherlock knew all this because- aside from knowing practically everything there was to know about Molly- he was always there. He was there for the break-up, because let's be honest, he was usually the cause of it. He was there for the crying, because despite what everyone believed, he did hate to see Molly cry. And he was always there for the cleaning, mostly because he would try to convince her to return to Bart's with him.
Unfortunately, this time he would not- could not- be there. Would Molly even carry out her post break-up routine? He knew she would most likely be avoiding work so that she wouldn't run into him. But was she currently ridding her flat of all traces of him? Should he expect to receive a cardboard box full of his stuff soon?
At the thought of all the memories they had created together being destroyed, an inexplicable pain struck his chest.
The serenity of the Watson home was disrupted by the sudden sound of the doorbell, followed by the high-pitched wail from the adorable (and now awake) Emily Watson.
Mary grunted as she hoisted herself up from the comforts of their sofa. "Alright husband, you deal with whoever is at the door and I'll deal with our offspring!"
John chuckled and smiled as he made his way towards the front door. That smile dropped as soon as he greeted the person on the other side.
"…Mycroft?"
"Hello John. May I come in?" Mycroft Holmes gave a tight smile and used his trusty umbrella to gesture inside. John looked over the man's shoulder to see an expensive black car idling on the street.
"Uh, sure... Come in," he said as he opened the door wider to let his –unwelcomed?- guest in.
"Love, who was at the door… Oh hello Mycroft!" Mary said as she walked into the living room holding the (now soothed) baby.
"Good morning, Mrs. Watson. It is a good thing you both are here. We need to talk… about Sherlock," Mycroft added dramatically.
The Watsons reclined onto their sofa wondering where this conversation was headed. John was the first to break the silence. "What has he done now?" The elder Holmes brother scoffed, "That's just it, he hasn't done anything! Sherlock hasn't left his flat in the past week… Not since Sunday."
Mary gasped, "That's the night we had dinner! When he told us about…" She turned to look at her husband. Surely this meant he was affected by the break up, right?
"Sherlock told you what?" Mycroft asked impatiently.
John hesitated. He knew that Holmes siblings had issues, and he was not going to betray Sherlock's confidence by revealing the status of his relationship. However, Mary did not receive that message. "Molly Hooper broke up with Sherlock!" she blurted out. 'Damn, for a former spy, I sure did break easily!' she mentally scolded herself.
Her husband seemed to have the same opinion. "Really Mary?" John stared at his wife. "Why are you sharing all this with Mycroft? Mister-caring-is-not-an-advantage… He'll be glad to know that Molly isn't a distraction anymore!"
Mycroft's usual mask of indifference changed into something else; something resembling sadness. "Well Dr. Watson, then you would be mistaken. Though it is true that I have said that in the past, I no longer feel that way. I believe Dr. Hooper has been the best thing to happen to my little brother, and I find that I am rather… upset… by this turn of events."
This time it was Mary who broke the silence. "You wanted Sherlock and Molly together?"
"Mrs. Watson, does it really surprise you that I would want anything but my brother's happiness? It is my job to watch over him. My biggest concern is what will happen now…"
If someone had told John that he and 'The British Government' would be discussing Sherlock Holmes' love life, he would have bent over laughing. And yet, here they were.
"And what are you thinking?" John asked nervously. "Danger night?" Mary's eyes enlarged, knowing the implications of what a 'danger night' entailed. Mycroft only shrugged.
"I don't know John. And that is what frightens me."
As soon as Mycroft had bid farewell, John rushed over to Baker St. Of course he had been concerned about his friend, however learning that the 'The Ice Man' was worried as well only troubled him further. Completely bypassing his former landlady, he bounded up the stairs in search of the detective. "Sherlock?" John cried out into the seemingly empty flat.
Nothing.
"Sherlock?" He called out a little more forcefully. John typically thrived in stressful situations, but knowing that his best friend could have potentially harmed himself, sent him into a panic. "Sherlock!" The doctor had made his way towards the bedroom, when he heard a groan coming from that direction. A breath of relief escaped his lips when he found the man in question in his bed- somewhat intact- hugging a pillow, wrapped in an unfamiliar quilt.
He approached the bed cautiously, while calling out again. "Sherlock? Are you alright?" The detective buried himself further into his bedding. "Does it look like I am alright?" He snapped indignantly. Though John couldn't deduce as skillfully as Sherlock, it didn't take a genius to see that clearly he wasn't alright. He chose to calm down, aware that Sherlock was most likely picking a fight to avoid discussing the problem.
"Hey, when was the last time you ate? Why don't you get out of bed, while I try to find something edible in your fridge?" John coaxed.
Sherlock turned his head to face him, giving him a clear view of the dark circles located under his red-rimmed eyes. "I can't John. It hurts too much," he said softly. John nodded sympathetically before adding, "I know mate."
He re-positioned himself on the bed in order to prop against the headboard. He brought up the (out of place) yellow floral quilt up to his chin before addressing John again. "This is what you and Mary warned me about. Isn't it? You said that I would have a hard time adjusting without her. But you didn't tell me how much it would hurt. I am physically in pain! Right here!" He yelled as he pounded his chest. "John, I miss her. So much! I miss Molly, and it hurts."
It was very rare to see Sherlock being so candid and vulnerable, and John was at a loss for words. He decided it wasn't his place to say or do anything, but be a supportive friend and listen.
Soon, without further prompting, Sherlock continued. "You know that I've been sitting here, thinking about her, wondering what she is doing. Except that I do know what she is doing… She's getting rid of me!" He paused briefly, his quickening breaths filling the silence of the room. "Right now she is at her flat boxing up my stuff to give back to me. She is deleting me from her life!"
John turned and opened his mouth to speak before being cut off. "No don't, I know what you are going to say… 'Sherlock, she won't cut you out of her life. You'll still work together'… But it won't be the same, John. It will kill me if I have to work with her, knowing that she doesn't love me anymore." He began to run his hands through his hair; it was evident to the doctor that his friend was getting worked up.
"And I tried. I tried to delete her from my mind palace, and I couldn't. That has never happened to me! I was able to erase the torture I endured while I was away hunting down Moriarty's associates, but I couldn't erase Molly. Then I tried to do what she does- you know packing up her stuff- before I found her quilt… But I can't give it back. It smells of her. What if this is the last piece of her I get?"
Tears were now running down his face; he didn't even try to hide them. John had been concerned before, but now he just felt for his friend. He was one of the few people who was aware that Sherlock Holmes did have a heart, however he was blown away by just how much of that heart belonged to the petite pathologist.
Sherlock roused himself out of bed, gently peeling back the quilt, and paced the length of the bed. "I'm an idiot… I fucked up, and now I've lost her. What do I do? John, I can't lose her!"
John tried to calm his friend- who was now hyperventilating- by encouraging him to return to bed. When that proved to be unsuccessful, he ran to the living room where he had left his medical bag. Originally he had brought it in case he found Sherlock… well one never knew what state you would find Sherlock Holmes in.
He entered the bedroom to find Sherlock hunched over- heaving- and in the middle of a full blown panic attack. John assessed his patient and determined that he needed to be sedated and get some rest. The sedative took effect quickly, and soon enough he was tucking in the drowsy detective. Before the doctor could leave the room, he heard a confession that brought a sad smile to his face.
"I messed up… I love Molly, and I fucked it all up…"
John left the door slightly open to keep an ear on him, and made his way to the living room. He sent off a quick message to Mycroft briefly- and vaguely- informing him of what he found upon his arrival. Knowing that his wife was just as upset, he decided to call her.
"John! I've been going crazy! Is he alright? Were there drugs?" Mary inquired rapidly over the phone.
"No, no drugs… But he's not okay," John answered sadly.
"What happened?"
"Christ Mary… I've never seen him like this. I had to sedate him!"
"That bad? Did he say anything to you?"
John allowed a few tears to fall. "Yeah he's really broken up about it. Kept saying, 'I've lost her' and 'It hurts'… I'm sad for him. I'm scared for him, if I'm being honest. If they don't get back together, I don't know what will happen to him!"
He could hear his wife sniffle over the phone. He was glad that he had found someone who loved his best friend as much as he did.
"Oh poor Sherlock!"
"Yeah… Listen, I'm gonna stay the night here to make sure he's okay. I don't feel comfortable leaving him by himself. And I know he would be furious if I called Mycroft. Is that okay?"
"Of course love. When he wakes up, please give him my love! Take good care of him…"
"Thanks love… Oh before I forget to tell you, Sherlock said he loved her!"
There was no way to know for certain, but he was sure he heard Mary releasing a relieved sigh.
"Well what do you know? There just might be some hope after all!"
End Notes: This was a hard chapter for me to write; it became really personal. I hope you don't think it is OOC. In my headcanon, Sherlock avoids feelings and emotions because when he does indulge, it is intense. (Just look at his feelings towards John, and by extension Mary, and what he is willing to sacrifice for them). Also I think he would be prone to panic attacks when he is overwhelmed or becomes unsure of himself. (I'm thinking of his freak-out at Baskerville). Of course these are my opinions and you don't have to agree with them. That's the beauty of fiction.
This is a Sherlolly story, so don't fret! Happiness is on the way.
Thank you to those who read and frequently review! I do read them, and often you guys help me out with your suggestions. I appreciate anything you have to offer... 'Til next time my friends! :)