Chapter 18
Fish out of Water
Molly Hooper
"This is bloody lunacy, Molly. Sherlock Holmes isn't going to be found unless he wants to be." Greg insisted as they moved through the market. Molly sighed and could feel herself blush. Guilt seemed to be piling up from all sides. It seemed as though the more she attempted to help, the more people became trapped in her web of deceit. It had started with Mycroft Holmes, then Sherlock, John and now Greg. She would make it right. She only hoped that more people were not hurt in the process.
When Molly told Greg that she intended to go after Sherlock in Afghanistan, she hadn't told him the whole story. It wasn't surprising that he thought that she was mad. He didn't know about Mycroft's report and assumed that Molly had been ready to embark on a wild goose chase. She hadn't corrected that assumption and had initially tried to convince him to let her go alone, but Greg had been stubborn and insisted that if she was going on a hopeless mission then he wasn't going to allow her to go alone. She knew that if she refused then he would just follow her and that would only make things much more complicated and difficult.
Molly adjusted her sunglasses and tightened the scarf around her head as they moved through the Afghan market. She looked around for her target. The blond woman had been the only constant in Peter Small's reports, yet she remained elusive. Molly had called in the one favor that she had. It was a big one. There were many people that were indebted to Mycroft Holmes, but she was one of the few, which he was beholden to. She had called in her favor that she had earned for her role in faking Sherlock's death. Anthea had given her a hard copy of the reports from Peter Small, Mycroft's contact for John in Afghanistan. He was currently missing, but his reports told a story and Molly was determined to follow it to the end. Sherlock's words still haunted her "I think I'm going to die." Not if she had anything to do with it, she thought viciously. She had agreed to help Sherlock as the guilt over her role in his fall and then ultimately John's reenlistment and capture over took her. She would make it right. It had become a vow, a mantra and she was not about to let anything stand in her way. Molly had hinted at information and Sherlock had quickly deduced the source of her intel. "Mycroft, of course, all other men are specialist, but his specialism is omniscience." Molly's silence was confirmation enough.
Sherlock had asked for the reports, but Anthea had given them to her with strict instructions not to pass them on to Sherlock. They held state secrets and were not to be reproduced or shared in anyway either digitally or by hard copy. Molly had made a decision then that she would not break the rules, but go around them. She would not reproduce those reports or give them to Sherlock. She would also not discuss their content in writing or over then phone. She would meet Sherlock in person and tell him what she knew, but she needed to do some research first. The blond woman was mentioned multiple times in the reports; she was the only constant amongst a sea of variables. Greg's voice pulled her out of her thoughts and back to the present.
"Meet me in Samara." He was looking at his phone with a deep frown on his face. "What the bloody hell does that mean? It's from an unknown number." Molly frowned and bit her lip in frustration. There was only one person that the text could be from, Sherlock. That meant that he knew that Greg was with her. Molly had hoped that she would be able to keep that fact a secret. She should have known better. There were no keeping secrets from Sherlock Holmes.
"He knows Greg. I didn't tell him, but he knows. I'll meet him, you stay here." She insisted. Greg opened his mouth clearly ready to argue, but Molly cut him off before he could get a word out. "No, Greg. Before you even say it, I have to do this alone. It's my fault. I have to make it right. Greg closed his mouth and grit his teeth seething. "I'll be careful." She promised leaving him looking helpless and frustrated. She knew the feeling and could sympathize, but needs must.
Molly moved like a wraith as she finally approached Sherlock in the market. Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in his haggard appearance. It was the first time that she had seen him since the fall and he was barely recognizable. His hair was dull and limp; his normally lithe frame was now emaciated. Dark circles stood out under his eyes, but the most striking change were the eyes themselves. Gone was the cold calculation and in its place was pain and heartache. John Watson had done what Molly had thought impossible capture Sherlock's heart. Her jaw dropped in shock as she glanced beside Sherlock and staring back at her was Irene Adler.
"You were dead on my slab at Bart's. Sherlock identified you. How?" Molly stammered unable to get over the shock of seeing Irene alive and sitting next to Sherlock in this market in Afghanistan. Before she could answer, Sherlock cut her off. The woman merely cocked an eyebrow at her and remained silent.
"You of all people should know that just because there was a body, doesn't qualify as airtight evidence." Sherlock snapped. Molly bit her lip knowing that Sherlock was referring to her role in faking his death. His tone then shifted from accusatory to desperate and anguished "Give it to me, Mycroft's report. Don't you see? We're running out of time. Molly, please!" Molly felt her resolve waver in the face of Sherlock's heartfelt plea.
"I-I promised Mycroft. There are state secrets." Molly stammered as Sherlock continued to stare at her hopefully.
"You have my word, nothing in that report will be disclosed. I need to find him Molly, even if he's dead. I need to bring him home." Sherlock promised sincerely. Molly sighed praying that she wouldn't regret this. Mycroft Holmes was not to be crossed.
"If your brother finds out…" Molly trailed off in a voice heavy with implication.
"He won't, it will be destroyed once I memorize the data." Sherlock assured her. Molly nodded and pulled the report from her rucksack and handed it to Sherlock.
"Thank you." Sherlock whispered in tight voice. "You need to go back to London, both of you, Mycroft has eyes everywhere." Sherlock then pulled his phone from his pock and made a call.
"Take her home." Sherlock said into his mobile. "Don't bother denying it I know you're here with her. Take her home Lestrade. You are both in over your head."