Chapter 2
Sherlock woke up, for a brief second wondering where he was. Then he winced and put his hand to his abdomen as he remembered. He had fallen asleep unceremoniously on Molly Hooper's couch yet again, only to awaken to freshly treated injuries and a blanket tucked in around him. He looked at the clock- 8 o clock. He groaned, realizing that he had wasted 6 full hours asleep in the pathologist's flat. He hated being injured- the healing process took so much of his energy that could have easily been used figuring out where the last few members of Moriarty's web were. He was so close now. 2 and a half years in, and he figured there were only about ten more places he needed to go. What a relief it would be to finally go back to Baker Street and regain his old life.
Well, not exactly his old life. According to Molly, there had been quite a few changes in recent years. Lestrade had recently gotten remarried to his ex wife. Sherlock gave that 2 years at best, seeing as how she was already sleeping with her yoga instructor. His best friend, John Watson, had gotten engaged to a Mary Morstan, who according to Mycroft was frustratingly perfect and had no record of criminal activity at all. She was now living at 221B Baker Street, but he didn't see why the flat couldn't be split 3 ways. As long as she liked the violin and left his skull alone, that is.
Even Molly herself had changed. She had received a promotion at work, now the lead pathologist, and was working many extra hours to make the transition. He could see the weight of new responsibility reflected in her eyes, but she didn't complain. Molly Hooper never complained. It was something he had always rather liked about her, that she never let anything compromise her. She always just did whatever needed to be done, in a timely manner and without any complaints leaving her lips.
She was different now. Not significantly so, although to Sherlock everything was important. She was quieter, but she smiled more. She didn't stutter anymore, and she seemed to have found herself a purpose. It was interesting to see her like this, he thought. Her heart was still just as soft and kind as ever, but there was a steel to her now. Molly Hooper wasn't going to be hurt or pushed around anymore. Although Sherlock knew that this would be somewhat of a nuisance for him when he finally returned to his normal life, meaning that he could no longer just flatter her into giving him spare body parts, he didn't seem to mind that much. There was something quite impressive about her quiet resilience, and and he found the idea of Molly Hooper standing up for herself quite intriguing.
She even had a boyfriend now, although it was more of an on again off again sort of deal. Sherlock had met him once, as he had come in bleeding one night when they had been curled up on the couch watching the telly. She had escorted him to the bedroom, and then went out to Thomas, as he thought the man was called, to have him leave as she was stuck taking care of her drunken cousin for the night. He wondered what Molly saw in him. He wasn't, in Sherlock's opinion, very handsome, nor did he have a high paying job, working as a lower division police officer. Even through the pain in his shoulder, Sherlock could deduce the nervous twitch of a former alcoholic, the fact that he bit his fingernails and the insecurity about his height visible in his slouch. He couldn't understand Molly's choice, nor could he stop himself from wondering about it.
He looked back at the clock- 8:26. He cursed himself for getting so distracted. Who Molly dated was her business, and it really shouldn't be bothering him so. Now he was even further behind. Molly had obviously already left for work, so he did a quick run through her shower and got dressed in some of the clothes she had stowed away for him. He pulled out some of the nicotine patches from a box of things she kept specifically for his visits, and leaned down to scratch Toby behind the ears before leaving on his mission once again.