Chapter 5

Despite Sherlock's outburst, Molly kept her promise and came back to the hospital. She saw him briefly before he entered surgery, as an operation was necessary to stabilize the spine.

The following weeks were particularly difficult. Sherlock was under heavy medication which was making him sleep most of the day. During his few hours of consciousness, he retreated into silence. His initial anger seemed to have given way to resignation and the doctors added anti-depressors to the painkillers.

Molly guessed that he was probably terribly bored. She took a few books from her bookcase, mainly about medico-legal analysis, and decided to read to him. But he didn't seem to be paying any attention, his eyes remaining fixed on the television. The only think he could do with his broken arm was to hold the remote control and he was browsing absently through the channels. She noticed that he seemed to have a taste for the worst kind of trash TV, even if he never spoke a word.

It was getting particularly painful to visit him. Before, Molly would always be excited at the idea of spending some time with Sherlock. But now she sometimes had to force herself to find the motivation. She was still on her leave from Bart's, but soon she would have to go back to work. And his future was worrying her more and more each day. He wasn't making any progresses. By this time he should have been able to eat normally. But he was refusing all food and still had to be fed through an IV.

^/^

One of these afternoons, Molly was waiting by the coffee machine while the nurse was checking on Sherlock. She killed time flipping through some magazines, but they were all full of articles about the "fake detective". The tabloids never seemed to have enough. Every day was bringing new revelations from an alleged university friend or even an ex-lover. They all depicted Sherlock as a pathological liar, a cocaine addict and even a potential criminal. She knew all of it was false, well maybe not the drug part, but the general public would swallow it all without distinction.

Soon, she was joined by Mycroft. He took a copy of "The Sun" from the table.

"Those articles are disgusting", said Molly. "Why don't you… do something? I'm sure you have some power over the press. How can you let them say those horrors?"

"It's not what Sherlock would want. It was part of the plan…"

"What plan? Can't you see there's no plan anymore?", she exclaimed.

She surprised herself by her insolence. But after meeting with Mycroft everyday he seemed less intimidating. Actually it looked like he had aged 10 years within two weeks.

"I'm worried too, Molly. Honestly worried", he said. "My brother went through many ordeals in his life. And he always made it through. But this time it seems that… he's not fighting."

"I know", she whispered.

He looked at her with his piercing gaze. "I know you've already done a lot, and you have to go back to your life. But I ask you to try one last time."

^/^

When she went back to Sherlock's room, the TV was playing in the background and one of those stupid shows was on again. Molly put on her usual smile and tried to act as normal as possible. She had bought a new book especially for him. This one was about criminology so she hoped that it would interest him more. She had hesitated with a thriller, but she couldn't picture Sherlock as someone who enjoyed reading fiction.

"Hello Sherlock, How are you today?"

No answer came, which didn't surprise her. She was now used to those one-sided conversations.

"I saw Mrs Hudson this morning", she continued. "I came to say hello but John was out. She misses you a lot. She was complaining about what to do with all your stuff, you know how she hates the mess. She was thinking about giving your science equipment to a school. Also she asked me if I wanted to take something as a memory. I didn't know what to answer. Is there something you would like to get back? Mycroft said he would take all your papers."

She took the book out of her bag. "Alright, so I brought you this book. It's a brand new study of an American criminologist about serial killers, I thought it might interested you."

Molly started to read it out loud. The description of the murders was a bit gruesome, but with her profession there was not much that could disturb her. Unfortunately, there was no change in Sherlock's passive attitude. He was staring at a nonexistent point on the wall, his eyes empty of all expression. She felt a wave of discouragement coming over her, but she wasn't one to give up so easily. Maybe being too nice wasn't the good strategy.

"Sherlock are you listening to me?" she asked with a hint of irritation.

He took the remote control and raised the volume to cover her voice. This time it was a clear provocation.

"Sherlock please…", she said with a sigh. As he continued to ignore her, she grabbed the remote control from his hands and turned down the television. This time, he finally looked at her.

"Aren't going to leave me alone?", he spatted back. "You don't have to feel obliged to keep me company. I'm doing fine by myself thank you."

"I don't think you're doing fine."

"Well, maybe I would be doing better without your insipid conversation."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that", she said calmly.

He seemed to be thinking for a moment and his expression changed.

"You're right, I am sorry. I realise I never thanked you for what you did. I know I asked you a lot so… thank you Molly Hooper. But you're losing your time here."

"I told you I wouldn't let you down. If there's anything you need, anything I can do for you… just tell me!"

"There's nothing you can do for me. Nobody can. Now leave, please."

There was no more aggressiveness in his tone, but he was clearly dismissing her. It broke her heart, but she one couldn't help him against his own will.

"Good bye Sherlock. You can call me if you want."

"I don't have a phone", he said drily.

"Oh yes… of course…", she stuttered. How could she always be so stupid? "Well I mean… You can… ask Mycroft you know."

There was an awkward silence and she could feel she was starting to blush. She rushed toward the door but he suddenly called her.

"Molly wait! Actually, there is something you can do for me."

She turned around and felt a bit a hope coming back. "Yes, tell me!"

With a sign of the head he indicated her to come closer. She came to sat next to his bedside.

"I need that drug", he said gravely.

"Well, I'll talk to the doctor. But you know what your brother said about morphine, that it might not be a good idea to increase the dose because of your prior…"

"I'm not talking about morphine", he interrupted.

"Oh. What… are you talking about then?"

"I need the drug you used on that day, to slow down my heart. Except this time I will need a larger dose. One that will make my heart stop for good."

His words started to make sense in Molly's mind and her eyes grew in horror.

"I… Sherlock I… I'm not sure to understand."

"You understand me perfectly. You always do."

"I can't do that!", she protested.

"You said you I could ask anything."

"But Sherlock…"

"It will be quick, I'll just fall asleep. I'll leave a letter if you want, I'll discharge you of all responsibility. Nobody could sue you anyway since officially I'm already dead."

"Sherlock this is crazy! You don't seriously consider…"

"This is my only way out!"

His voice was still controlled, but she could feel his despair. Without hesitating, she took his hand.

"No no… I mean, I imagine… No I cannot imagine the way you're feeling right now. But it will get better. You will get better, and your brother is working on dismantling Moriarty's network. We'll clean your name and you'll be able to come back. And if you're in pain, we'll find something to make you feel better."

"It's not the pain. I can take the pain. It's…"

He closed his eyes, obviously trying to hold back some tears.

"Even if I clear my name, I'll never get my old life back, I'll never get my job back. I'm going to spend my life in a wheelchair and all I will get is pity looks and people whispering behind my back poor Sherlock. All my life I'll depend on somebody. Today it's to make phone call, but there will always be something. And I don't want that life. I don't want that…" He couldn't finish his sentence and broke into sobs.

Molly stayed almost paralyzed for a moment. There was something terrible about seeing someone so strong breaking down. Instinctively, she sat on his bed and took him in her arms. He didn't protest.

"Shhh", she murmured. "You can cry, it's ok to cry".

They stayed like this for a long moment, maybe an hour, maybe more. Molly holding Sherlock, his head resting against her chest. Sometimes he seemed to be calming down, but then the sobs were back even more violently. It was hard to watch but in a way she felt almost relieved. It was better than silence. She was gently running her fingers through his hair, in a soothing pattern. She even placed a soft kiss on his temple. There was something almost motherly in her attitude and he looked, indeed, like a lost child.

When his breathing seemed to be more regular, she started to whisper words of comfort in his ear.

"I want you to trust me one more time. Your arms are going to heal and it will make a huge difference. Then you're to going to start the physical therapy. I'll be honest, I don't know if you'll walk again, but you can still make some big progresses. And you're wrong about something. I don't see why you wouldn't get your job back, because all you need for that is your brain. And from what I know it's still working perfectly. I'm sure you already deduced everything about your nurses."

She heard him snort.

"You're not alone in this. I was at your funeral at the other day, there were a lot of people. People who believe in you. And don't tell me you don't care, because you jumped from a building to save them. Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, John…"

"I don't want John to see me like that…."

"Do you really think that it would change something for him? He misses you so much. Just imagine the day when he's going to learn you're alive. You can't deprive him of the joy of giving you a good punch in the face."

He raised his face and looked back at her.

"John wouldn't punch a disabled man. He has values."

Molly grinned. "I like it when you're sarcastic. It's a good sign."

"You won't tell anyone?"

"No… it will be our secret. We'll never talk about it again."

There was a knock and a nurse half opened the door. Molly was still seated on the bed and Sherlock looked away as his eyes were still red. The nurse gave them an awkward look and stepped back, but no wonder she would return shortly.

"I don't like that one", said Sherlock. "Maybe I should tell her that her husband is having an affair?"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. I think I have to go for now", said Molly. "I'll be back tomorrow. And really if you need something for the pain, I can talk to your doctor."

"I'm fine."

"Have a good night and promise me you won't think about this again."

"Good night Molly".

She was only half reassured, but he looked better. Tomorrow would be another day. She picked up her things and prepared herself to leave.

"Molly…", he called again.

"Yes?"

"If you insist on reading to me… forget criminology. I would like a book about bees."