A huge thanks to all of you who reviewed or subscribed to this fic ! Sorry if the next chapters are still a bit angsty… this is not a happy time for Sherlock and Molly but I promise it will get better.

Happy Easter and I hope you enjoy this chapter !

^/^

Sherlock is flying, or falling maybe. Is it actually so different ? He can feel the sharp air against his skin. The speed sensation is exhilarating. But it won't last long. He can see the pavement getting closer and closer and soon he's going to crash. It's a matter of seconds now, but it doesn't scare him. Actually he's curious. There's a loud cracking noise, probably his bones. He can see people gathering around him, looking worried. They are trying to talk to him but he cannot hear them. Their voices are more and more instant and their faces are fading. Everything is turning black. Is that it ? Then death is clearly overrated.

For once his mind is strangely peaceful, finally empty. But soon he is disturbed by an annoying sound. A beep that comes back regularly, like the beating of a heart. His heart. There's also a bright light which forces him to open his eyes. Everything looks white now. How disappointing, even the afterlife is a cliché.

He can see the shapes more clearly. He's in a bed. And the sound comes from a cardiac monitor. Hospital room. So it was all a dream, interesting.

How long has he been here ? And why ?

Private room, the door is locked with an electronic system. Military hospital, Mycroft. Normally he would be able to make those deductions in a nanosecond. But his mind is terribly slow. Drugs, probably pain killers. Also he's under assisted breathing so it must be pretty bad.

He starts examining at the damage. His right arm is broken, and so seems his left wrist. He won't be playing violin in a long time. His back hurts. Actually it hurts like hell, he needs more of those drugs, quickly.

At least his legs have been spared. He cannot feel any pain there. Actually, he cannot feel anything. Not good. With his right hand he manages to move the sheet so that he can see his feet. Then he tries to move his toes but nothing happens.

Suddenly he remembers. Bart's roof, Moriarty, the snipers. And his fall. It wasn't a dream. Except he didn't crash on the pavement, it wasn't the plan. He was suppose to fall in the bags, and then escape with Molly. So where is she, and why on earth can't he move his legs ?

He feels a wave of panic rushing over him. His breathing is accelerating and the beeping sound is getting faster and faster. It's driving him crazy. He grabs the electrode on his chest and rips it off. Then he does the same with the oxygen mask. The door swings open. Nurses, telling him to calm down.

"I can't move my legs, I can't move my legs !"

"Sir, you need to stay quiet. We're going to look after that."

"Where's Molly ? Where's John ? I want to talk to my brother, he cannot keep me in here. I am clean !"

"You brother will come to see you later, you need to rest for the moment."

" Who are you ? You're working for him ? Moriarty ? No Richard Brook ? I invented him… I invented him…"

"Sir we're going to give you something to calm you down."

"Don't touch me ! I invented him !"

Despite his protests he can feel the syringe entering his arm, and his mind is suddenly empty again.

^/^

The black car comes to pick up Molly in the beginning of the afternoon. She has been waiting all morning, but she's always dependent on Mycroft's good will since she doesn't even know where the hospital is located. Their last conversation is still haunting her. "He says he cannot feel is legs…"

Mycroft greets her in the lounge reserved for the families. He is as stoic as ever but he looks tired.

"When did he wake up ?", inquires Molly.

"Around 5 AM this morning"

"What about his legs ? Does he have any sensation at all ? It could be only temporary, sometimes it can happen after a coma. But… there was the fall so we cannot exclude a more serious problem."

"I know. We have some world class specialists here, he's in good hands".

"Good", nods Molly. "How is he… taking it ?"

"He had to be sedated… he was having a bit of a tantrum."

"Oh god…"

"He's calmer now. But he refuses to take the CT Scan. It will happen whether he wants it or not, but it would be easier for everybody if he agreed to cooperate. We've lost enough time already. Molly, you need to talk to him."

"What makes you think he would listen to me ?"

"Because he came to you when he needed help, not to me. And the doctors said he asked for you."

"I'll try. But don't you think we should contact John ? I'm sure he would be a great help."

"No. If Sherlock chose to keep John out of the plan, then he had his reasons. As I said before, secrecy is essential Miss Hooper."

"I'll do my best."

^/^

She enters the room with a bit of apprehension. It's still hard to see him in that state but she tries to keep her voice cheerful.

"Hello Sherlock, how are you feeling ?"

"Like someone who fell from a roof".

His voice is weak but it's comforting to see he hasn't lost his dry sense of humour. She goes to sit next to his bedside.

"Sherlock… I'm sorry it didn't work, I should have been more careful."

"It did work."

She looks surprised, so he continues. "Moriarty is dead. And everybody believes that I am too. It was the plan. It did work. Now I need to find the rest of his agents."

She takes his hand. "First you need to recover. That's the plan for now."

"I don't want to stay here. I was supposed to stay at your flat. Take me out of here."

"You know I can't do that Sherlock. You need a full medical support."

"You're a doctor."

Molly sights. She is starting to wonder whether he's playing with her or if he's being completely delusional.

"Not the kind that can help you. You're gravely injured and it's essential you take this scan. The doctors cannot treat you if they don't know what is wrong with your legs. They need to collect data, just like you do on your cases. I understand it is scary, but it's normal to be afraid…"

"I'm not afraid", he exclaims. "They are. My brother and his so called specialists. With their embarrassed smiles and evasive explanations. None of them has the courage to tell me the truth. But you can. So tell me, what are the options?"

She knows they're not playing anymore now. In her career she had to give a lot of sad news to families and friends. But never to the patient himself. Her patients are always dead so generally she just goes for a sober "he didn't suffer". Even if she knows it's a lie. But she cannot lie to Sherlock, it would be an insult to his intelligence. So she takes a deep breath and tries to be as precise as possible.

"It could be a consequence of the brain trauma. Your brain is not giving the correct information to the nervous system, which explains why you cannot feel or move your legs. It's a temporary dysfunction which should fade in a few days or weeks. You may need a bit of rehabilitation as well."

"Or ?"

"Or… it's a spinal cord injury."

"Go on."

"It's difficult to give a prognostic… It depends of the exact location of the injury and whether it's complete or incomplete which we won't know before several months. You could make a partial recovery and even be able to walk with clutches but it could also… stay this way."

He remains still for a moment, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Then he looks at her and simply says "Thank you".

"Sherlock… I really hope this is the first option. But whatever the scan tells us, I promise that I'll stay with you."

"How long does it take ? The scan ?"

"It's quick. We can get the results in about an hour."

"I'll take it, at one condition."

"Which one ?"

"You will tell me the results."

^/^

She doesn't even need to speak. He knows instantly as she enters the room. Molly is probably the easiest person to read. So he spares her the ordeal to break the news.

"Spinal cord ?"

She nods. "The shock is located on the T12 vertebra , it's the lower thoracic region. But the injury can still evolve, it will take 4 to 6 weeks before the doctors can make a clearer diagnostic."

He closes his eyes, taking in the information. He suspected it from the beginning, but must admit he still had hopes.

"Sherlock…", she tries.

"Shut up !"

"I know this is hard but…"

"I said SHUT UP !", he screams, reopening his eyes.

She looks hurt and he feels somehow guilty but he can't think about it right now. There's too much anger in him and it needs to get out. He hates himself for having been so stupid. Now the plan is ruined, his life is ruined.

"Just leave please. I want to be alone." This time it's almost a whisper.

"I understand", she says sadly. "What I said before, it's true… I won't leave you."

He looks away. He can hear Molly leaving and the sound of the door closing behind her. He's alone, in this hospital that looks like a prison. And he needs to escape.

He has a place for that, his mind palace. He built it many years ago, when he needed to bury some painful memories. Now he uses it when he needs to clear his thoughts. Every room has a purpose. Some are for data storage, other ones for meditation. There's even a tiny place for sentiment, that he carefully avoids. But today everything is blurry. He's lost, like in a maze and all he can see are closed doors. He's running in a never-ending corridor, funny for someone who will probably never run again. Everything is black now. And Molly was right, he's afraid. In the echo, he can hear the mocking laugh of Jim Moriarty. Falling is just like flying, except there's a more permanent destination.

He tried to fly, but he broke his wings.