There's Something About Molly

Chapter 46

221 B Baker Street 5:14pm

“Oi, get your buggerin’ hands off ‘er me!” Wiggins voice was heard throughout the flats of 221. “I have a right ta be ‘ere as the younger Mr. ‘Olmes’ protégé!”

The occupants of the upstairs flat looked at each other grimly. Lestrade and John managed to grab Sherlock before he had a chance to race down to interrogate one of the people who had last seen Molly alive. With Sherlock restrained Mycroft made his way out to the landing.

As soon as he opened the door a gray tabby streaked in and went straight to Sherlock’s empty room. Sherlock stopped struggling against his friends’ hands in shock at seeing Toby. If Toby were alive there had to be hope that his Molly could be also.

Mycroft made his way back in with a Billy Wiggins decked out in one of Sherlock’s beloved coats.

“Why are you wearing one of my coats?” Sherlock snapped.

“Shezza! You’re back. Molly gave it to me. Looks like Molly did it. She’s an amazing woman she is,” Billy’s exuberance in the situation did not fit the somber mood of the room.

“Did what exactly Billy?” Sherlock asked as he straightened himself out having been released from his friends grasp now that they knew he wasn’t going to run off.

“She told me that you were going to your death-“

“Your death?” John interjected.

“You knew that and that’s not what’s important at the moment.” Sherlock turned back to focus on Billy, “Continue.”

John refused to be deterred, “You said mission.”

“And less than five minutes ago I said that the mission would end in death and I wanted to continue in that path. We can go back to this discussion later and you can berate me all you want but right now the focus needs to be Molly!” Sherlock was yelling by the end of the speech.

John closed his eyes, “You are right of course, I’m sorry.”

Once all was settled again Wiggins continued his report. “The missus was awake when I went for my shift to watch for her and she threatened me with a cricket bat if I refused to cooperate. She said you were going to die unless I helped her.”

“She was awake and lucid?” Sherlock questioned.


“You underestimated her tolerance, she was on heavier doses of narcotics than you realize Sherlock,” Mary informed the detective.

Sherlock turned to face Mary, “Be that as it may it still has been years.” Sherlock turned once again to Wiggins, “What did she do?”

“She left. Didn’ tell me where she was headin’ though.”

Sherlock let out a breath of air, “She could be alive.”

Mycroft hated that he had to be the one to tell Sherlock the next bit of information. “Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked at Mycroft and knew the tone of voice he used. The last time he had heard it was when they had put Redbeard down. It was the voice of pity.

“No.” Sherlock stated in a dead calm voice.

Mycroft observed his younger brother and could only see him as a young boy with tear-streaked chubby cheeks and a mop of dark curls. “We need to go to the safe house now.”

“Not without Molly. If she’s out there I need to find her,” Sherlock winced at the desperation in his own voice.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft said again in the placating manner.

“NO!” Sherlock said louder causing Mrs. Hudson to jump while the other members looked on in sadness knowing that Mycroft was holding information out on them.

“Brother you can let me speak or not but either way it will not change the facts.” Mycroft said in an uncommonly gentle manner that took some of the members at the gathering by surprise due to the sincerity.

“Wiggins do you know where Molly is now?” Sherlock chose to ignore his brother and ran his hand through his curls as he started to pace.

“Well, I don’ rightly know.” Billy dutifully answered.

“Was she at the her flat when it exploded?” Sherlock was now in a rage and everyone had moved so he could pace and wave his arms in his common fashion.

“It is possible but the last time I saw her was before ten or summat aroun’ there.”

“So you are aware of the explosion?”

“Of course, my job is to be aware of the flat in’it?”

“Then why don’t you know where she is?” Sherlock delivered the last sentence by yelling in Billy’s face. “What is the point of you?”

“Sherlock,” this time his best friend was the one to call his name, “Let’s go ahead and get in the car. We can regroup and figure-“

“Don’t ask me to give up on her John,” Sherlock said with tears now coming down his face. “Don’t you dare. She never gave up on me. Don’t ask me to give up on her. Not until we know for sure.”

Mary also had tears running down her face and had her hand covering her mouth as she tried to muffle any sound of sobbing.

“Sherlock,” Lestrade started, “we’re not giving up. We just need to regroup if we are going to be of any help.”

“What help are the lot of you?” Sherlock yelled and kicked over a kitchen chair. “You want to leave her behind. You want to save your hides in a safe house. I jumped off a roof for you and Molly helped and now you want to leave her behind. Fine go! I don’t need anyone. I don’t need any of you. I just need Molly.”

Sherlock brought his hands up to his face to wipe off the tears that were coming down in torrents.

“Tom returned Doctor Hooper to her flat around noon.” Mycroft informed the gathering. “I am sorry.”

“You were supposed to protect her for me!” Sherlock raged at his brother.

“I know-“

“No you don’t know because you don’t care! And you don’t want me to care either! And your right! Are you happy you are right? Poor sad stupid Sherlock forgot that caring wasn’t an advantage. All lives end, all hearts break, was that how it goes? Congratulations Mycroft. Just like always you are the smartest of the three Holmes brothers.” Sherlock took off to his room and slammed the door.

Molly’s flat 12:25pm

Molly shut the door and locked it behind her. She leaned up against it and took a shuddering breath. Her thoughts swirled around her head each one clamoring for her attention. She eventually made it to the restroom where she relieved herself for the umpteenth time that day because of all the water she had been drinking to flush her system.

She checked out her clock to make note of the time. It was half past noon. She wondered if Sherlock was still in the country since he had not disclosed the time he would be leaving. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She looked frightful and wondered what Lady Smallwood had thought of the view she had presented. She looked more like one of the members of the homeless network. Her eyes looked too big for her face and had dark circles underneath. Her hair was a jagged mess and now only reached to her chin. She could see love bites on her neck. She looked like a pathetic mess.

She looked for something heavy to throw at the mirror. Finding nothing in her bathroom she tore out of her room in a pique of anger in order to search for something to toss at it. She saw her doorstop that was shaped as a cat and made of brass. She picked it up and made her way back to the hated mirror. It shattered upon the impact of the brass figure in a gratifying spectacle.

It felt good to break something and Molly wanted to replicate the feeling. She made her way to the kitchen and opened her cupboards. She picked up a stack of plates and put them on the counter where they would be easy to reach and threw them one by one at the wall where they smashed into shards. She then went for the smaller plates. By the time she made it to the bowls she was crying. She got to her favorite tea set and paused for a moment but remembered that she was leaving and couldn’t take it with her anyway, besides she had already lost what was most important to her in the world.

As she hurled each piece of the tea set that her family had given her she yelled out her pain at God. “You’ve taken everything from me!”

“My mom.”


“My dad.”


“My other dad.”


On the list went until finally she reached Sherlock. She discovered as she looked at the china and glass-covered floor in front of her that she had run out of things to throw. So reached for her hand and grabbed the rings from her hand and threw them.

They hit the wall and bounced off before hitting the floor. Molly instantly regretted it but fell to her knees as she let sobs and wails rip from her body until she was hoarse and her head felt like it would split open. She eventually crawled on her knees to grab up her discarded rings and she held them to her chest as she rocked back and forth. She felt the glass and other materials cut into her jean clad legs. Her hands endured some cuts from retrieving her wedding rings from the broken glass. Most of the cuts were superficial. She wanted to lay down right where she was and never get up. She thought of the people who had helped her in the past and decided to fight. She couldn’t think straight at the moment but she needed to leave her flat.

Where she had moments before been sluggish she now moved with manic energy grabbing what she valued most in the flat she had resided in for the past number of years, at least the things that she hadn’t smashed and could travel easily enough. She went to grab her cherry jumper but noticed a hole in it, which confused the heck out of her. She would ask Mary to see about Toby when she warned her of the email she had received from Magnussen. She also took some time to bandage up her injured hands.

She couldn’t go out the front door as it was being watched and it would bring Tom or someone else of Mycroft’s out. In the years that Sherlock had been absent she knew there were blind spots in the CCTV system in the back of her building. She would have to jump and time it perfectly, but if she did it right even if they saw her they would only assume her to be a random hoodlum.

She decided to go to Bart’s until she calmed down. She was able to get into her office without anyone seeing her. She was also able to use the computer as her laptop was fried and she had abandoned her iPhone in the favor of the ability to move around without being tracked. She sat at her desk and waited for it to load. She decided to check her email before searching for different payment methods for travel. She wanted to find a way to travel fairly undetected out of England.

There were a number of emails and she was touched when one from Meena that said ‘I miss you’ popped up. She let sentiment get the best of her and opened the email. As soon as she opened the email a video started playing that had music and cats before changing to a scene where a very familiar man dressed in a Westwood suit looked at the camera and asked ‘Did you miss me?’

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