Molly shakily put the phone down.
It was the right thing to do.
Wasn't it?
Of course. Of course it was.
She breathed out softly and leaned against the wall of her bedroom, closing her eyes.
That phone call had unsettled her.
Molly felt something against her ankles and looked down to see Toby rubbing his sides against her.
Right. Breakfast.
After feeding the cat, she made herself a cup of tea and got ready for work.
When is the plane leaving?
Will he be careful?
Will he be safe?
She shook her head and walked out the door.
"I mean, what would have happened had I gone?" She muttered to herself. A passer-by looked at her, startled, for a moment thinking she was talking to him.
Molly, oblivious, kept walking.
Had she shown up, he probably would have refused to go. He would have been annoyed. She had seen it in the hospital yesterday...
Sherlock was angry with her.
Molly pulled her hat down lower over her ears.
Angry with her, for crying out loud! With what right? She should be the one to be angry!
Boxes. Think of the boxes...Doctor Paten's story had really helped her realise she needed to stop wasting her life waiting for the impossible. She had to live as much as she could so she would not have any regrets.
...But what if he really needed her help?
No, she would have helped Sherlock and followed him everywhere, to the ends of the earth, had he really needed her. But he didn't. Their encounter in Manchester helped her understand that now.
He didn't want her. He didn't need her.
He didn't.
"I don't think I can cope without you..."
Molly put her head in her hands.
Lies! They were just lies, she told herself, over and over again. Lies to make her stay and keep his little world unchanged. Lies, because he always lied, he always used her.
When she came to Manchester, she really believed she had done with Sherlock...Then he had come to her hospital, and she thought she coped really well, but she couldn't deny that something had changed between them.
Something was...Broken.
She pulled her coat close to her as she made her way to the hospital. The morning chill felt like it was seeping into her very soul.
She had done the right thing.
Hadn't she?
Of course.
Of course she had.
.
.
Ten minutes after take-off, John was already asleep.
He might have said it was Sherlock's fault for playing the violin for so long, but his flatmate still thought it rather unbecoming.
"Tell me, Sherlock, have you ever been to Paris?" Doctor Paten asked, looking up from his book.
The consulting detective nodded.
He had hoped the conversation would end there, but Molly's mentor didn't desist.
"I am very fond of that city, it's where I met my wife."
Sherlock nodded again and fixed his eyes on the book in his hands.
"We're divorced, now. We always said it was a mutual decision, but I think it's really my fault."
Sherlock didn't respond.
"I worked too much and neglected her, you see... But I've been making an effort. I've been going to see her regularly now. Hope springs eternal, and all that."
The consulting detective looked at the doctor for a moment, scanning his face.
Was he really not related to Molly? Really?
"Let me tell you a story, Young chap."
35,000 feet.
520 miles per hour...
"It's an old favourite of mine... I even told it to Molly, before she left for Manchester."
Sherlock closed the book.
"It seems I don't have much choice."
Doctor Paten smiled.
"One day, a middle-aged man died in an accident. A spirit greets him and leads him on his journey to the afterlife.
Along the way, the two ghosts look upon a great valley, full of boxes.
'What are these?' the man asks.
'These are the boxes containing all the moments you could have lived, the experiences that had been offered to you. As you did not accept them, they remain here, unopened, in this valley.'
The man's curiosity was peaked, and he begged to look into the boxes.
'It is a bad idea to do so, you would regret it...' the spirit cautioned, but the man did not heed the warning and implored the ghost to let him see the contents.
Finally, the spirit conceded. 'You may open only three, but remember: you cannot take any with you.'
Delighted, the man ran into the valley and opened the first box.
It was a trip across Europe. Just after university, some friends had planned to travel around the various European states by car. No planning ahead, simply going with the flow. The man had always talked about it with them enthusiastically, but when the time came, he didn't go, saying it was immature and risky.
In the box he saw what would have happened if he had gone:
He would have had his camera stolen in Naples, terrible diarrhoea in Finland because of some weird fish speciality he wouldn't be able to pronounce, and he would have slept in the car for two nights in a row because they didn't find a hotel room in France...
He would also have run out of money on the last week and earned cash by playing the guitar and singing with his friends, he would have learned to scuba dive and been brought close to tears by seeing a sea turtle up close, swimming gracefully alongside him. He would have become a more relaxed employer later in life, and he would not have grown apart from those cherished friends...
Frowning slightly, he opened the second box.
Inside, he saw himself with an old dog, and he remembered when he was a child, and his family had gotten a puppy for Christmas. As the boy didn't take care of the animal and neglected it, the parents had given it up for adoption to a more caring family. In the box he could see that if he had been a caring owner, his dog would have been his closest companion. He saw that he would not have felt so alone in high school, and the animal would have defended him against that nasty kid...He would also have made friends with a cheerful boy who went running with his Dobermann in the park...Finally, he could see the dog dying, and witnessed himself weeping, a wiser, kinder young man.
Remorseful, he opened the third box:
In that he saw that time he stood up a girl because his friends had teased him about it. He would have fallen in love with her. The man never married, because he always thought he hadn't met the right woman yet, but he had. He simply stood her up.
'It is time to move on.' The spirit called.
'Please, let me keep them.' The man cried, anguished, on his knees.
'I am sorry...'
' This one, then. Just this one...' he begged, clutching one of the boxes to his chest. "Just this one.'
The spirit could not grant his wish, because his life was done, and the two spirits left the boxes behind and walked to the afterlife together."
Doctor Paten leaned back, satisfied of having told his tale.
Sherlock glared at him slightly.
"Sentimental tripe." He shook his head.
"Maybe." Paten nodded. "But it makes me want to make sure I leave as few boxes behind as I can."
The elderly doctor looked into Sherlock's eyes.
"That's why I am seeing my ex wife as often as I can. I saw to win her back, and I'm taking it.." He grinned "...And I'm winning."
He leaned in closer.
"People often say we don't know what we have untill it's lost. They seldom remember that sometimes, if we look hard enough, we might find it again.
Only Death is final, Sherlock. Everything else is up to us."
He winked at the consulting detective, who turned his eyes away to look silently out of the window.
"I'll leave you alone now. Thank you for indulging a silly old man."
Sherlock eyes flicked for a moment to the doctor before returning to the window. He nodded.
They spent the rest of the flight in silence.
.
.
"I'm sorry, Miss, but there is no room, all the seats have been booked..."
"Fine!" Molly cried out in exasperation "When is the first available flight, then?"
The lady typed on the computer.
"There is one flight at nine, you would land at ten thirty, so..."
"I'll take it."
.
Author's note:
THE NEXT CHAPTER CONTINUES WITH THE CASE, I PROMISE! LOTS OF CASE COMING UP!
Although I really wanted to carry on with the case in this chapter, I must admit...It kind of ran away with me! I actually had a VERY different thing planned for Molly, but it just couldn't seem to end up on the screen. Go figure. I do hope I didn't bore you with this chapter, I just couldn't seem to control it!
I had seriously thought of continuing untill I got you to the next bit of info in the case, but the chapter was becoming a bit too long so...Sorry! I will try to have the next chapter out this week if not tomorrow. Sorry Mrspencil!
A small note on the boxes story: it is loosely based on a newspaper article I was once told about, many years ago, by a brilliant teacher.
I really hope you didn't get bored! Please let me know what you think...
Thanks for reading!
Feral