Bart’s Hospital 3:06pm
Molly’s second computer in one week fried up right before her eyes but she was more concerned with the video she had just witnessed.
“Did you miss me?” reverberated through her skull in an echoing manner even though he had only said it once.
Molly was still in shock for a moment before her mind started racing in different directions. She couldn’t fathom what was happening in her world. Everything was shattering around her. She was trying to breathe but knew she was headed for a panic attack. Sherlock had gotten good at handling those when they happened but he was gone. He was gone and she was alone. She was alone and someone was coming for her. Division likely knew where she was and perhaps this was a hoax but if not… She recalled that Mycroft had avoided sharing the autopsy reports with her.
She shut the lights off in her office. Fortunately her desk faced the door so that when she was sitting at her desk she saw who was coming in the door. This meant that if she hid under her desk no one could see her since there was a panel blocking the foot space of her old wooden desk. She grabbed her backpack and placed it beside her as she crawled in the foot space. She had always felt safer as a child when she crawled under spaces, especially her dad’s desk or his workspace in the basement where he would build boats. Her thoughts were racing out of control and memories long buried came out to haunt her. She bit down on her finger almost drawing blood in an effort to keep herself from screaming out.
She remembered the two syringes in a smaller pocket in her backpack. Sherlock had intended them to help her to avoid the scenario she was in so it would not be wrong to use the sedatives now would it? Molly’s hands shook as she reached for the bag and she was able to get them. She didn’t want to be completely drugged but if she just used half a syringe maybe it would help her cope.
Her hand shook as she held the prepared needle to her skin. She took a breath and steadied herself as the tip pierced her skin. She pushed the plunger down and watched as the opaque liquid went into her body. She started to feel drowsy but it lacked a bit of the initial kick it had the first time with the full dose. She fought herself about giving in and taking the last part of the dose but she didn’t want to be a sitting duck.
She mused about how good she felt and she had only taken a fairly mild tranquilizer. Well, she thought mild as she giggled. She had forgotten how good the drugs had actually felt because she had been so angry about what had been done to her. It took a little longer than the morning had but she drifted into slumber.
Later Molly woke to someone calling her name.
“Molly are you here?” Mike Stamford called out and waited for an answer and when none was forthcoming he spoke again. “I’m really sorry Mr. Holmes but she isn’t here. I can ask round the hospital for you but why haven’t you called her cell?”
Molly was disoriented and hadn’t called out. She was also very stiff and cramped and almost panicked until she realized she was crammed under a desk. She eventually put the pieces together of where she was and realized that Mike must have been speaking with Mycroft. She needed to move. She couldn’t go to her flat and she knew she really should not do what she was about to. She wanted for one night to stay at Baker Street. She decided to hang the consequences and give into her desire. Mycroft would probably find her but he would probably do so anyway. Better for her if Mycroft found her than if Moriarty did. Ugh…Moriarty. She decided to leave that problem for a later time.
She still wore Wiggins’ hoodie and was left alone on her way to Sherlock’s former abode. She made herself keep walking and tried to think of her favorite fairy tale to block out the pain. She would have herself a nice cry once she reached Baker Street but she could not afford to lose it before she reached her destination.
When she did reach the flat she saw two unmistakable black cars parked outside. Molly’s emotional roller coaster now took her to the place of rage. How dare Mycroft Holmes show his face at Baker Street! He had just sent Sherlock to his death and now he was there to…to…well Molly could not fathom why he was there but whatever the reason was it could not be good. She got to the door and adjusted the knocker to how Sherlock liked it and slammed the door open.
She was met with four of Mycroft’s men in the foyer who stopped her from going up the stairs.
“Stop right there,” one of Mycroft’s goons told her.
“What you aren’t going to ask me who goes there?” Molly said as she flipped her hood down and screamed, “Mycroft bleeding Holmes get your pasty cake eating butt down here!” at the top of her lungs.
There was noise from upstairs as one of the men grabbed her roughly and threw her backpack on the ground. She was then violently shoved up against the wall as she was patted down. “Mycroft Holmes you son-of-a,” but she stopped when she remembered who his mother was. That meant that another word was also not allowed. She heard movements on the steps but the rough handling was cutting off her air supply a bit and things were getting fuzzy. It didn’t help that she had some kind of drug still flowing through her veins.
Suddenly she could breathe again but it only lasted for a second as she was turned around and crushed to someone’s chest. She heard voices but could not make out what they were saying because her focus was given to the someone who was consuming all the air from her lung’s and moving his lips above hers. Her air was gone and so was her consciousness.