Sherlock -- Hurt [4/?]
Thank, you for the favourite/followers and kudos.
Chapter 4
The hardest thing for Molly to do was to leave everything behind her like that, but she couldn't do anything other than to leave, even if only for a couple of days. She needed time away from Sherlock Holmes, her feelings for him were almost disabling her and she hadn’t realised it until recently. He filled her thoughts, her dreams, lately she had caught herself day dreaming. And for what? Nothing, because the man haunting her dreams and thoughts didn't even see her as a woman, he saw her as just some useful person, and for her own sake she could not allow it any longer.
Maybe she could go to her mother's for a few days… her mother would be happy to see her, she always asked her to come and visit. She had refused each and every time on the pretext she had too much work, which was not entirely wrong, but if she was honest with herself it was because she hoped that she would see Sherlock swing through the door of the morgue during the day, she would be performing an autopsy and he would ask questions… he would stand close to her and she'd be able to smell him.
Poor girl why for bloody cry sake do you keep hoping? All you do is torturing yourself.
Maybe there she will find some peace and forget about Sherlock, her job, London. Not that she didn't love her job, she did. It'd always brought her great satisfaction, but lately he had become more and more difficult for her to find the sense of accomplishment in her job. It felt more like he was doing her job not because she wanted to it to help other find some peace not, she did it because she'd do anything for a dark-haired tall man with piercing blue eyes. All her life was set around him.
She had to live for her, do things for her and not for him. Molly decide firmly. She headed for her bedroom and fished for her rather small suitcase. She had never been the type of person who felt to need to travel all over the world. She didn't mind to so from time to time, but she also loved to stay in England. Now she was leaving her flat for a few days and she was happy to do so.
***
"Any news from Molly, yet?" John Watson asked his friend.
"No." Sherlock answered, dryly.
"And… that doesn't bother you?"
"No, why would the fact that Molly Hopper doesn't answer my texts, bother me?"
"Oh, I don't know… simply because it is unusual for her."
"Is it?" Sherlock wondered.
"Don't do that."
"Do what, John?" He asked surprised.
"Pretend like you don't care. You know I'm right. Molly always answers your texts within two minutes, and now she hasn't respond to any of your messages, has she?"
Sherlock Holmes fished in his pocket to retrieve his phone to check if Molly had responded to his text messages, but she hadn't. His left eyebrow lifted. John was right; it was odd that the pathologist hadn't text him back yet.
His friend was looking at him and he noticed a slight change in the man's face.
"Sherlock, what's the matter?"
"You are right, there is something going on. I've send about twenty-five texts to Molly and she hadn't answer any single one of them, and let's say that I haven't been delicate in my the last few ones… if she would have read those she would have marched over here and slap me on the cheek."
He scrolled the conversation on his smartphone until he found the ones he needed and showed them to John.
"You would have definitely earned a slap for those. Maybe she would not have come over here for it…" he was stopped from saying more as Sherlock showed him one he had send her through Watsapp…
When he read to text message, his mouth fell open in shock, after a moment he manages to say: "You didn't!
"Of course, I did, you see that I did send her that text. I wanted to make her react, but she didn't." He said, suddenly starting to realize that something was wrong.
"I think it's time for her us to go to her flat." John declared.
Sherlock nodded following John through the door of the morgue as he did so he dialed a phone number and put the phone to his ear.
"Mycroft?"
***
Molly wondered where she was. She'd fallen asleep on the train on her way to her mother's, apparently. It took a few moments to accustom to her surroundings and for a moment, she panicked thinking she'd passed the station where she needed to stop at to get to her mothers. Thank goodness, the train hadn't arrived yet.
Someone approached her at that moment. "Are you alright madam?"
"I'm fine thank you, I guess I must have fallen asleep soon after, the train departed."
"May I?" The man asked Molly with a smile.
Smiling back, she answered affirmatively.
"You're on holiday?"
"No really, I'm going to visit my mother. It's been a while."
"I see." He responded.
"And you? Are you having some vacation time?" She asked suddenly, curious.
"No, unfortunately not, I'm going to work, I'm a journalist."
"Oh, that must be an interesting job!" Molly said excitingly.
"It has its moments, but it can also be pretty boring."
"What's the most exciting thing you've ever written an article about?"
"Murder cases."
At his answer Molly couldn't help but sighed heavily and said, "another one."
The man sitting next to her lifted his eyebrows at her words. "Excuse me?"
Molly blushed has she realized the words to thought she had kept for herself had actually been said, out lout.
"I'm sorry, it's just that, I have a friend and his fascinated by murder cases, it sees them as puzzles to solve."
"It's a bit of the same for me, except I let someone else solve the puzzle and then I write about it. I wonder what it is that pushes someone so far that he or she becomes a killer."
"I try to provide answers to the families…" Molly said after a moment.
"How so?"
"I'm a pathologist. I work at Bart's morgue." She explained, expected that the man sitting next to her would stand up and sit somewhere else. He didn't.
"My name is James Bowen by the way." He said extending his hand to her.
"Molly Hooper. Dr. Molly Hooper." She responded taking his hand in hers.
"Nice to meet you, Molly Hooper!"
"Likewise." The pathologist said with a smile.
A few moments later, Molly noticed that James looked at her intently. "Is there something wrong?" She inquired, suddenly feeling nervous under his stare.
"Oh no, no, sorry. It's just… since you told me your name… it sounds familiar and I cannot pin point why, that's all."
"You've probably have written my names in your articles before, if you're interested by murder cases. I sometimes assist Sherlock Holmes from time to time…"
"Oh my… you know Sherlock Holmes???"
Why had she said that? Why had she mentioned Sherlock's name? the entire purpose of this voyage to see her mother was to forget Sherlock Holmes so, why had she mentioned him for cry sake? Molly girl you like to torture yourself mentally. She couldn't pretend she hadn't said she knew the Detective so, she confirmed it.
With a heavy sighed she said, "Yes, I know him." But that's all I'm willing to say about him."
"How does he work?" James asked.
"I'm not going to say one more word." Molly insisted.
"Ok, sorry, I didn't want to offend you. It's just that its fascinating to see how his mind words and the way the man solves crimes is somewhat unusual."
"That it is." The words had left her before she realized it. Molly could help smiling has he mind pictured him working on a something interesting.
The visit to her mother might be more interesting than she first thought it would be. James seemed to be a nice guy and who knows maybe something could come out of this… she suddenly felt a bit stupid and desperate. Hopefully, she wouldn't become one of those women ready be a man no matter what he looked like as long as it was a man.
***
Sherlock accompanied by John were seated in a taxi heading for Molly Hooper's flat. When John knocked on the door, both of them expected to hear her voice telling them to wait just a minute before coming to open the door, but nothing came. They waited a few more moments, John knocked again… they waited still nothing.
"Maybe we should enter." John suggested. "She could have fallen and be unconscious, lying on her bathroom floor"
"If that's the case that could explain why she doesn't answer the door." Sherlock said, pensively. After a couple of seconds, he made his decision. John watched as he saw his friend grab for something in his pockets…
The clock of Molly's flat was picked after a few instants, Sherlock entered followed by John who closed the door behind him.
Nothing seemed out of place, the flat was small and tidy. Sherlock looked around the kitchen while John looked the other rooms. There was no trace of Molly Hooper.
"She's not here."
"I got that. She left for a few days."
"What, you do you… never mind."
"Toby's not here…"
"Toby?"
"Her cat. My guess is she left it with her best friend. That's the most logical explanation. There hasn't been any grocery shopping for a couple days judging from what's in the cupboards…" He pointed out. Sherlock was about to continue when John call his name.
"Mmhm, what is John?"
"I found this envelope in the drawer… it's… it's addressed to you."
Sherlock Holmes looked surprised when he recognized Molly's handwriting. He opened the envelope and unfolded the sheet of paper and started to read the words Molly had written.
Dear Sherlock,
I guess, the time has come for me to tell you how I really feel about you. I suspect that you know it already, but that you willingly chose not to act on it. First of all, you have to know that I admire you and respect you. You have such an amazing mind, I'm privileged to know you, but I can't go on like this anymore.
Caring for you is not an important thing, I get that. I know that you like to have your mind focused on the case when one comes along. I love helping you and being able to anticipate your needs on a case, I love working with you, Sherlock, but I can't take the way you treat me anymore or other people for that matter. I don't want to change you, I just want to make you understand that caring about someone isn't a disease, or a virus that you get sick of. No, love and care enrich your personality as well as your life… I know it, because even though I spend my days with cadavers in the morgue, with victims of crimes, accidents or whatever it is that has ended they lives they talk to me. Not verbally of course, but at the end of the day, I am their voice when I am able to put their relatives at ease by providing them with an answer to their questions. I know what you're thinking: no one can really give them all the answers, but still, I can tell them if their loved one suffered or not when they passed away. That's what I do, Sherlock, my job is as important for me as it is for you, except that I have feelings that I can't suppress. I'm not a machine, I want to love and live. Sure, loving someone can hurt, but it's better to be hurt by loving someone who doesn't love you back than not to love at all, believe me…
We have one life and it's short, we both know that but I want to enjoy it as much as possible, and I'd like you to stay in it but I will not let myself be treated like a puppet or being discarded by you whenever you don’t need me anymore. Your violin is handled with more respect than the people in your life and by people, I mean, John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, you don't even bother to remember his first name, and me.
You're missing a great deal in your life, Sherlock. Life is so full of wonderful things and you won't ever know about them because you won't let yourself be sentimental. I love you, and will miss you so very much, but I'm done.
I've decide to move on.
Yours sincerely, Molly.
John looked at him as he read the paper in his hands and he noticed some very slight changes in his face, his jaw tightening almost unperceptively. His long fingers grasping the sheet of paper more firmly. He was certain, Sherlock himself wasn't aware of this changes in his posture, but they were there, whatever that letter contained, the detective didn't like it.
"Sherlock are you alright?" John asked.
No response came, all he got was disdain, his friend let the paper fall of his hands landing on the floor; He watched as Sherlock left the flat without a word.
What the… "Sherlock wait!" He called after him as he picked up the letter Molly had written to the him. He ran after him. His friend was hailing a taxi.
"What's going on?"
"Go ahead, read Molly's letter."
John Watson did as he was told, and couldn't help a small smirk that appeared on his lips.
"What are you smirking about?" Sherlock asked aggravated.
"She finally did it. Molly finally told you what she had in her heart, you finally know you are insensitive and hurtful a lot of times."
"It's not my fault that people can handle my way of being. I can't reshape myself to please others. It's not my fault that great minds can't be understood."
"No, it's not your fault, but as your as such a great mind as you say, you could be a little bit more considerate of others and definitely the ones who care about you. And as far as I'm concern the girl has been right to tell you all that she did. And she's also right about the fact that you miss a lot in your life."
"No, I'm not." He huffed as with that, John knew their conversation was over.
When the taxi stopped the claimed into it in silence.
So, Molly is up to visit her mother, she met a journalist on the way, will they stay simply an acquittanced or will there be a development in their relationship? Did Molly's letter not affect him? How will he react if Molly stays away longer than a few days?
Thank, you for the favourite/followers and kudos.
Chapter 4
The hardest thing for Molly to do was to leave everything behind her like that, but she couldn't do anything other than to leave, even if only for a couple of days. She needed time away from Sherlock Holmes, her feelings for him were almost disabling her and she hadn’t realised it until recently. He filled her thoughts, her dreams, lately she had caught herself day dreaming. And for what? Nothing, because the man haunting her dreams and thoughts didn't even see her as a woman, he saw her as just some useful person, and for her own sake she could not allow it any longer.
Maybe she could go to her mother's for a few days… her mother would be happy to see her, she always asked her to come and visit. She had refused each and every time on the pretext she had too much work, which was not entirely wrong, but if she was honest with herself it was because she hoped that she would see Sherlock swing through the door of the morgue during the day, she would be performing an autopsy and he would ask questions… he would stand close to her and she'd be able to smell him.
Poor girl why for bloody cry sake do you keep hoping? All you do is torturing yourself.
Maybe there she will find some peace and forget about Sherlock, her job, London. Not that she didn't love her job, she did. It'd always brought her great satisfaction, but lately he had become more and more difficult for her to find the sense of accomplishment in her job. It felt more like he was doing her job not because she wanted to it to help other find some peace not, she did it because she'd do anything for a dark-haired tall man with piercing blue eyes. All her life was set around him.
She had to live for her, do things for her and not for him. Molly decide firmly. She headed for her bedroom and fished for her rather small suitcase. She had never been the type of person who felt to need to travel all over the world. She didn't mind to so from time to time, but she also loved to stay in England. Now she was leaving her flat for a few days and she was happy to do so.
***
"Any news from Molly, yet?" John Watson asked his friend.
"No." Sherlock answered, dryly.
"And… that doesn't bother you?"
"No, why would the fact that Molly Hopper doesn't answer my texts, bother me?"
"Oh, I don't know… simply because it is unusual for her."
"Is it?" Sherlock wondered.
"Don't do that."
"Do what, John?" He asked surprised.
"Pretend like you don't care. You know I'm right. Molly always answers your texts within two minutes, and now she hasn't respond to any of your messages, has she?"
Sherlock Holmes fished in his pocket to retrieve his phone to check if Molly had responded to his text messages, but she hadn't. His left eyebrow lifted. John was right; it was odd that the pathologist hadn't text him back yet.
His friend was looking at him and he noticed a slight change in the man's face.
"Sherlock, what's the matter?"
"You are right, there is something going on. I've send about twenty-five texts to Molly and she hadn't answer any single one of them, and let's say that I haven't been delicate in my the last few ones… if she would have read those she would have marched over here and slap me on the cheek."
He scrolled the conversation on his smartphone until he found the ones he needed and showed them to John.
"You would have definitely earned a slap for those. Maybe she would not have come over here for it…" he was stopped from saying more as Sherlock showed him one he had send her through Watsapp…
When he read to text message, his mouth fell open in shock, after a moment he manages to say: "You didn't!
"Of course, I did, you see that I did send her that text. I wanted to make her react, but she didn't." He said, suddenly starting to realize that something was wrong.
"I think it's time for her us to go to her flat." John declared.
Sherlock nodded following John through the door of the morgue as he did so he dialed a phone number and put the phone to his ear.
"Mycroft?"
***
Molly wondered where she was. She'd fallen asleep on the train on her way to her mother's, apparently. It took a few moments to accustom to her surroundings and for a moment, she panicked thinking she'd passed the station where she needed to stop at to get to her mothers. Thank goodness, the train hadn't arrived yet.
Someone approached her at that moment. "Are you alright madam?"
"I'm fine thank you, I guess I must have fallen asleep soon after, the train departed."
"May I?" The man asked Molly with a smile.
Smiling back, she answered affirmatively.
"You're on holiday?"
"No really, I'm going to visit my mother. It's been a while."
"I see." He responded.
"And you? Are you having some vacation time?" She asked suddenly, curious.
"No, unfortunately not, I'm going to work, I'm a journalist."
"Oh, that must be an interesting job!" Molly said excitingly.
"It has its moments, but it can also be pretty boring."
"What's the most exciting thing you've ever written an article about?"
"Murder cases."
At his answer Molly couldn't help but sighed heavily and said, "another one."
The man sitting next to her lifted his eyebrows at her words. "Excuse me?"
Molly blushed has she realized the words to thought she had kept for herself had actually been said, out lout.
"I'm sorry, it's just that, I have a friend and his fascinated by murder cases, it sees them as puzzles to solve."
"It's a bit of the same for me, except I let someone else solve the puzzle and then I write about it. I wonder what it is that pushes someone so far that he or she becomes a killer."
"I try to provide answers to the families…" Molly said after a moment.
"How so?"
"I'm a pathologist. I work at Bart's morgue." She explained, expected that the man sitting next to her would stand up and sit somewhere else. He didn't.
"My name is James Bowen by the way." He said extending his hand to her.
"Molly Hooper. Dr. Molly Hooper." She responded taking his hand in hers.
"Nice to meet you, Molly Hooper!"
"Likewise." The pathologist said with a smile.
A few moments later, Molly noticed that James looked at her intently. "Is there something wrong?" She inquired, suddenly feeling nervous under his stare.
"Oh no, no, sorry. It's just… since you told me your name… it sounds familiar and I cannot pin point why, that's all."
"You've probably have written my names in your articles before, if you're interested by murder cases. I sometimes assist Sherlock Holmes from time to time…"
"Oh my… you know Sherlock Holmes???"
Why had she said that? Why had she mentioned Sherlock's name? the entire purpose of this voyage to see her mother was to forget Sherlock Holmes so, why had she mentioned him for cry sake? Molly girl you like to torture yourself mentally. She couldn't pretend she hadn't said she knew the Detective so, she confirmed it.
With a heavy sighed she said, "Yes, I know him." But that's all I'm willing to say about him."
"How does he work?" James asked.
"I'm not going to say one more word." Molly insisted.
"Ok, sorry, I didn't want to offend you. It's just that its fascinating to see how his mind words and the way the man solves crimes is somewhat unusual."
"That it is." The words had left her before she realized it. Molly could help smiling has he mind pictured him working on a something interesting.
The visit to her mother might be more interesting than she first thought it would be. James seemed to be a nice guy and who knows maybe something could come out of this… she suddenly felt a bit stupid and desperate. Hopefully, she wouldn't become one of those women ready be a man no matter what he looked like as long as it was a man.
***
Sherlock accompanied by John were seated in a taxi heading for Molly Hooper's flat. When John knocked on the door, both of them expected to hear her voice telling them to wait just a minute before coming to open the door, but nothing came. They waited a few more moments, John knocked again… they waited still nothing.
"Maybe we should enter." John suggested. "She could have fallen and be unconscious, lying on her bathroom floor"
"If that's the case that could explain why she doesn't answer the door." Sherlock said, pensively. After a couple of seconds, he made his decision. John watched as he saw his friend grab for something in his pockets…
The clock of Molly's flat was picked after a few instants, Sherlock entered followed by John who closed the door behind him.
Nothing seemed out of place, the flat was small and tidy. Sherlock looked around the kitchen while John looked the other rooms. There was no trace of Molly Hooper.
"She's not here."
"I got that. She left for a few days."
"What, you do you… never mind."
"Toby's not here…"
"Toby?"
"Her cat. My guess is she left it with her best friend. That's the most logical explanation. There hasn't been any grocery shopping for a couple days judging from what's in the cupboards…" He pointed out. Sherlock was about to continue when John call his name.
"Mmhm, what is John?"
"I found this envelope in the drawer… it's… it's addressed to you."
Sherlock Holmes looked surprised when he recognized Molly's handwriting. He opened the envelope and unfolded the sheet of paper and started to read the words Molly had written.
Dear Sherlock,
I guess, the time has come for me to tell you how I really feel about you. I suspect that you know it already, but that you willingly chose not to act on it. First of all, you have to know that I admire you and respect you. You have such an amazing mind, I'm privileged to know you, but I can't go on like this anymore.
Caring for you is not an important thing, I get that. I know that you like to have your mind focused on the case when one comes along. I love helping you and being able to anticipate your needs on a case, I love working with you, Sherlock, but I can't take the way you treat me anymore or other people for that matter. I don't want to change you, I just want to make you understand that caring about someone isn't a disease, or a virus that you get sick of. No, love and care enrich your personality as well as your life… I know it, because even though I spend my days with cadavers in the morgue, with victims of crimes, accidents or whatever it is that has ended they lives they talk to me. Not verbally of course, but at the end of the day, I am their voice when I am able to put their relatives at ease by providing them with an answer to their questions. I know what you're thinking: no one can really give them all the answers, but still, I can tell them if their loved one suffered or not when they passed away. That's what I do, Sherlock, my job is as important for me as it is for you, except that I have feelings that I can't suppress. I'm not a machine, I want to love and live. Sure, loving someone can hurt, but it's better to be hurt by loving someone who doesn't love you back than not to love at all, believe me…
We have one life and it's short, we both know that but I want to enjoy it as much as possible, and I'd like you to stay in it but I will not let myself be treated like a puppet or being discarded by you whenever you don’t need me anymore. Your violin is handled with more respect than the people in your life and by people, I mean, John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, you don't even bother to remember his first name, and me.
You're missing a great deal in your life, Sherlock. Life is so full of wonderful things and you won't ever know about them because you won't let yourself be sentimental. I love you, and will miss you so very much, but I'm done.
I've decide to move on.
Yours sincerely, Molly.
John looked at him as he read the paper in his hands and he noticed some very slight changes in his face, his jaw tightening almost unperceptively. His long fingers grasping the sheet of paper more firmly. He was certain, Sherlock himself wasn't aware of this changes in his posture, but they were there, whatever that letter contained, the detective didn't like it.
"Sherlock are you alright?" John asked.
No response came, all he got was disdain, his friend let the paper fall of his hands landing on the floor; He watched as Sherlock left the flat without a word.
What the… "Sherlock wait!" He called after him as he picked up the letter Molly had written to the him. He ran after him. His friend was hailing a taxi.
"What's going on?"
"Go ahead, read Molly's letter."
John Watson did as he was told, and couldn't help a small smirk that appeared on his lips.
"What are you smirking about?" Sherlock asked aggravated.
"She finally did it. Molly finally told you what she had in her heart, you finally know you are insensitive and hurtful a lot of times."
"It's not my fault that people can handle my way of being. I can't reshape myself to please others. It's not my fault that great minds can't be understood."
"No, it's not your fault, but as your as such a great mind as you say, you could be a little bit more considerate of others and definitely the ones who care about you. And as far as I'm concern the girl has been right to tell you all that she did. And she's also right about the fact that you miss a lot in your life."
"No, I'm not." He huffed as with that, John knew their conversation was over.
When the taxi stopped the claimed into it in silence.
So, Molly is up to visit her mother, she met a journalist on the way, will they stay simply an acquittanced or will there be a development in their relationship? Did Molly's letter not affect him? How will he react if Molly stays away longer than a few days?
Or you can read it here
or here
Chapter 4
The hardest thing for Molly to do was to leave everything behind her like that, but she couldn't do anything other than to leave, even if only for a couple of days. She needed time away from Sherlock Holmes, her feelings for him were almost disabling her and she hadn’t realised it until recently. He filled her thoughts, her dreams, lately she had caught herself day dreaming. And for what? Nothing, because the man haunting her dreams and thoughts didn't even see her as a woman, he saw her as just some useful person, and for her own sake she could not allow it any longer.
Maybe she could go to her mother's for a few days… her mother would be happy to see her, she always asked her to come and visit. She had refused each and every time on the pretext she had too much work, which was not entirely wrong, but if she was honest with herself it was because she hoped that she would see Sherlock swing through the door of the morgue during the day, she would be performing an autopsy and he would ask questions… he would stand close to her and she'd be able to smell him.
Poor girl why for bloody cry sake do you keep hoping? All you do is torturing yourself.
Maybe there she will find some peace and forget about Sherlock, her job, London. Not that she didn't love her job, she did. It'd always brought her great satisfaction, but lately he had become more and more difficult for her to find the sense of accomplishment in her job. It felt more like he was doing her job not because she wanted to it to help other find some peace not, she did it because she'd do anything for a dark-haired tall man with piercing blue eyes. All her life was set around him.
She had to live for her, do things for her and not for him. Molly decide firmly. She headed for her bedroom and fished for her rather small suitcase. She had never been the type of person who felt to need to travel all over the world. She didn't mind to so from time to time, but she also loved to stay in England. Now she was leaving her flat for a few days and she was happy to do so.
***
"Any news from Molly, yet?" John Watson asked his friend.
"No." Sherlock answered, dryly.
"And… that doesn't bother you?"
"No, why would the fact that Molly Hopper doesn't answer my texts, bother me?"
"Oh, I don't know… simply because it is unusual for her."
"Is it?" Sherlock wondered.
"Don't do that."
"Do what, John?" He asked surprised.
"Pretend like you don't care. You know I'm right. Molly always answers your texts within two minutes, and now she hasn't respond to any of your messages, has she?"
Sherlock Holmes fished in his pocket to retrieve his phone to check if Molly had responded to his text messages, but she hadn't. His left eyebrow lifted. John was right; it was odd that the pathologist hadn't text him back yet.
His friend was looking at him and he noticed a slight change in the man's face.
"Sherlock, what's the matter?"
"You are right, there is something going on. I've send about twenty-five texts to Molly and she hadn't answer any single one of them, and let's say that I haven't been delicate in my the last few ones… if she would have read those she would have marched over here and slap me on the cheek."
He scrolled the conversation on his smartphone until he found the ones he needed and showed them to John.
"You would have definitely earned a slap for those. Maybe she would not have come over here for it…" he was stopped from saying more as Sherlock showed him one he had send her through Watsapp…
When he read to text message, his mouth fell open in shock, after a moment he manages to say: "You didn't!
"Of course, I did, you see that I did send her that text. I wanted to make her react, but she didn't." He said, suddenly starting to realize that something was wrong.
"I think it's time for her us to go to her flat." John declared.
Sherlock nodded following John through the door of the morgue as he did so he dialed a phone number and put the phone to his ear.
"Mycroft?"
***
Molly wondered where she was. She'd fallen asleep on the train on her way to her mother's, apparently. It took a few moments to accustom to her surroundings and for a moment, she panicked thinking she'd passed the station where she needed to stop at to get to her mothers. Thank goodness, the train hadn't arrived yet.
Someone approached her at that moment. "Are you alright madam?"
"I'm fine thank you, I guess I must have fallen asleep soon after, the train departed."
"May I?" The man asked Molly with a smile.
Smiling back, she answered affirmatively.
"You're on holiday?"
"No really, I'm going to visit my mother. It's been a while."
"I see." He responded.
"And you? Are you having some vacation time?" She asked suddenly, curious.
"No, unfortunately not, I'm going to work, I'm a journalist."
"Oh, that must be an interesting job!" Molly said excitingly.
"It has its moments, but it can also be pretty boring."
"What's the most exciting thing you've ever written an article about?"
"Murder cases."
At his answer Molly couldn't help but sighed heavily and said, "another one."
The man sitting next to her lifted his eyebrows at her words. "Excuse me?"
Molly blushed has she realized the words to thought she had kept for herself had actually been said, out lout.
"I'm sorry, it's just that, I have a friend and his fascinated by murder cases, it sees them as puzzles to solve."
"It's a bit of the same for me, except I let someone else solve the puzzle and then I write about it. I wonder what it is that pushes someone so far that he or she becomes a killer."
"I try to provide answers to the families…" Molly said after a moment.
"How so?"
"I'm a pathologist. I work at Bart's morgue." She explained, expected that the man sitting next to her would stand up and sit somewhere else. He didn't.
"My name is James Bowen by the way." He said extending his hand to her.
"Molly Hooper. Dr. Molly Hooper." She responded taking his hand in hers.
"Nice to meet you, Molly Hooper!"
"Likewise." The pathologist said with a smile.
A few moments later, Molly noticed that James looked at her intently. "Is there something wrong?" She inquired, suddenly feeling nervous under his stare.
"Oh no, no, sorry. It's just… since you told me your name… it sounds familiar and I cannot pin point why, that's all."
"You've probably have written my names in your articles before, if you're interested by murder cases. I sometimes assist Sherlock Holmes from time to time…"
"Oh my… you know Sherlock Holmes???"
Why had she said that? Why had she mentioned Sherlock's name? the entire purpose of this voyage to see her mother was to forget Sherlock Holmes so, why had she mentioned him for cry sake? Molly girl you like to torture yourself mentally. She couldn't pretend she hadn't said she knew the Detective so, she confirmed it.
With a heavy sighed she said, "Yes, I know him." But that's all I'm willing to say about him."
"How does he work?" James asked.
"I'm not going to say one more word." Molly insisted.
"Ok, sorry, I didn't want to offend you. It's just that its fascinating to see how his mind words and the way the man solves crimes is somewhat unusual."
"That it is." The words had left her before she realized it. Molly could help smiling has he mind pictured him working on a something interesting.
The visit to her mother might be more interesting than she first thought it would be. James seemed to be a nice guy and who knows maybe something could come out of this… she suddenly felt a bit stupid and desperate. Hopefully, she wouldn't become one of those women ready be a man no matter what he looked like as long as it was a man.
***
Sherlock accompanied by John were seated in a taxi heading for Molly Hooper's flat. When John knocked on the door, both of them expected to hear her voice telling them to wait just a minute before coming to open the door, but nothing came. They waited a few more moments, John knocked again… they waited still nothing.
"Maybe we should enter." John suggested. "She could have fallen and be unconscious, lying on her bathroom floor"
"If that's the case that could explain why she doesn't answer the door." Sherlock said, pensively. After a couple of seconds, he made his decision. John watched as he saw his friend grab for something in his pockets…
The clock of Molly's flat was picked after a few instants, Sherlock entered followed by John who closed the door behind him.
Nothing seemed out of place, the flat was small and tidy. Sherlock looked around the kitchen while John looked the other rooms. There was no trace of Molly Hooper.
"She's not here."
"I got that. She left for a few days."
"What, you do you… never mind."
"Toby's not here…"
"Toby?"
"Her cat. My guess is she left it with her best friend. That's the most logical explanation. There hasn't been any grocery shopping for a couple days judging from what's in the cupboards…" He pointed out. Sherlock was about to continue when John call his name.
"Mmhm, what is John?"
"I found this envelope in the drawer… it's… it's addressed to you."
Sherlock Holmes looked surprised when he recognized Molly's handwriting. He opened the envelope and unfolded the sheet of paper and started to read the words Molly had written.
Dear Sherlock,
I guess, the time has come for me to tell you how I really feel about you. I suspect that you know it already, but that you willingly chose not to act on it. First of all, you have to know that I admire you and respect you. You have such an amazing mind, I'm privileged to know you, but I can't go on like this anymore.
Caring for you is not an important thing, I get that. I know that you like to have your mind focused on the case when one comes along. I love helping you and being able to anticipate your needs on a case, I love working with you, Sherlock, but I can't take the way you treat me anymore or other people for that matter. I don't want to change you, I just want to make you understand that caring about someone isn't a disease, or a virus that you get sick of. No, love and care enrich your personality as well as your life… I know it, because even though I spend my days with cadavers in the morgue, with victims of crimes, accidents or whatever it is that has ended they lives they talk to me. Not verbally of course, but at the end of the day, I am their voice when I am able to put their relatives at ease by providing them with an answer to their questions. I know what you're thinking: no one can really give them all the answers, but still, I can tell them if their loved one suffered or not when they passed away. That's what I do, Sherlock, my job is as important for me as it is for you, except that I have feelings that I can't suppress. I'm not a machine, I want to love and live. Sure, loving someone can hurt, but it's better to be hurt by loving someone who doesn't love you back than not to love at all, believe me…
We have one life and it's short, we both know that but I want to enjoy it as much as possible, and I'd like you to stay in it but I will not let myself be treated like a puppet or being discarded by you whenever you don’t need me anymore. Your violin is handled with more respect than the people in your life and by people, I mean, John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, you don't even bother to remember his first name, and me.
You're missing a great deal in your life, Sherlock. Life is so full of wonderful things and you won't ever know about them because you won't let yourself be sentimental. I love you, and will miss you so very much, but I'm done.
I've decide to move on.
Yours sincerely, Molly.
John looked at him as he read the paper in his hands and he noticed some very slight changes in his face, his jaw tightening almost unperceptively. His long fingers grasping the sheet of paper more firmly. He was certain, Sherlock himself wasn't aware of this changes in his posture, but they were there, whatever that letter contained, the detective didn't like it.
"Sherlock are you alright?" John asked.
No response came, all he got was disdain, his friend let the paper fall of his hands landing on the floor; He watched as Sherlock left the flat without a word.
What the… "Sherlock wait!" He called after him as he picked up the letter Molly had written to the him. He ran after him. His friend was hailing a taxi.
"What's going on?"
"Go ahead, read Molly's letter."
John Watson did as he was told, and couldn't help a small smirk that appeared on his lips.
"What are you smirking about?" Sherlock asked aggravated.
"She finally did it. Molly finally told you what she had in her heart, you finally know you are insensitive and hurtful a lot of times."
"It's not my fault that people can handle my way of being. I can't reshape myself to please others. It's not my fault that great minds can't be understood."
"No, it's not your fault, but as your as such a great mind as you say, you could be a little bit more considerate of others and definitely the ones who care about you. And as far as I'm concern the girl has been right to tell you all that she did. And she's also right about the fact that you miss a lot in your life."
"No, I'm not." He huffed as with that, John knew their conversation was over.
When the taxi stopped the claimed into it in silence.
So, Molly is up to visit her mother, she met a journalist on the way, will they stay simply an acquittanced or will there be a development in their relationship? Did Molly's letter not affect him? How will he react if Molly stays away longer than a few days?
Thank, you for the favourite/followers and kudos.
Chapter 4
The hardest thing for Molly to do was to leave everything behind her like that, but she couldn't do anything other than to leave, even if only for a couple of days. She needed time away from Sherlock Holmes, her feelings for him were almost disabling her and she hadn’t realised it until recently. He filled her thoughts, her dreams, lately she had caught herself day dreaming. And for what? Nothing, because the man haunting her dreams and thoughts didn't even see her as a woman, he saw her as just some useful person, and for her own sake she could not allow it any longer.
Maybe she could go to her mother's for a few days… her mother would be happy to see her, she always asked her to come and visit. She had refused each and every time on the pretext she had too much work, which was not entirely wrong, but if she was honest with herself it was because she hoped that she would see Sherlock swing through the door of the morgue during the day, she would be performing an autopsy and he would ask questions… he would stand close to her and she'd be able to smell him.
Poor girl why for bloody cry sake do you keep hoping? All you do is torturing yourself.
Maybe there she will find some peace and forget about Sherlock, her job, London. Not that she didn't love her job, she did. It'd always brought her great satisfaction, but lately he had become more and more difficult for her to find the sense of accomplishment in her job. It felt more like he was doing her job not because she wanted to it to help other find some peace not, she did it because she'd do anything for a dark-haired tall man with piercing blue eyes. All her life was set around him.
She had to live for her, do things for her and not for him. Molly decide firmly. She headed for her bedroom and fished for her rather small suitcase. She had never been the type of person who felt to need to travel all over the world. She didn't mind to so from time to time, but she also loved to stay in England. Now she was leaving her flat for a few days and she was happy to do so.
***
"Any news from Molly, yet?" John Watson asked his friend.
"No." Sherlock answered, dryly.
"And… that doesn't bother you?"
"No, why would the fact that Molly Hopper doesn't answer my texts, bother me?"
"Oh, I don't know… simply because it is unusual for her."
"Is it?" Sherlock wondered.
"Don't do that."
"Do what, John?" He asked surprised.
"Pretend like you don't care. You know I'm right. Molly always answers your texts within two minutes, and now she hasn't respond to any of your messages, has she?"
Sherlock Holmes fished in his pocket to retrieve his phone to check if Molly had responded to his text messages, but she hadn't. His left eyebrow lifted. John was right; it was odd that the pathologist hadn't text him back yet.
His friend was looking at him and he noticed a slight change in the man's face.
"Sherlock, what's the matter?"
"You are right, there is something going on. I've send about twenty-five texts to Molly and she hadn't answer any single one of them, and let's say that I haven't been delicate in my the last few ones… if she would have read those she would have marched over here and slap me on the cheek."
He scrolled the conversation on his smartphone until he found the ones he needed and showed them to John.
"You would have definitely earned a slap for those. Maybe she would not have come over here for it…" he was stopped from saying more as Sherlock showed him one he had send her through Watsapp…
When he read to text message, his mouth fell open in shock, after a moment he manages to say: "You didn't!
"Of course, I did, you see that I did send her that text. I wanted to make her react, but she didn't." He said, suddenly starting to realize that something was wrong.
"I think it's time for her us to go to her flat." John declared.
Sherlock nodded following John through the door of the morgue as he did so he dialed a phone number and put the phone to his ear.
"Mycroft?"
***
Molly wondered where she was. She'd fallen asleep on the train on her way to her mother's, apparently. It took a few moments to accustom to her surroundings and for a moment, she panicked thinking she'd passed the station where she needed to stop at to get to her mothers. Thank goodness, the train hadn't arrived yet.
Someone approached her at that moment. "Are you alright madam?"
"I'm fine thank you, I guess I must have fallen asleep soon after, the train departed."
"May I?" The man asked Molly with a smile.
Smiling back, she answered affirmatively.
"You're on holiday?"
"No really, I'm going to visit my mother. It's been a while."
"I see." He responded.
"And you? Are you having some vacation time?" She asked suddenly, curious.
"No, unfortunately not, I'm going to work, I'm a journalist."
"Oh, that must be an interesting job!" Molly said excitingly.
"It has its moments, but it can also be pretty boring."
"What's the most exciting thing you've ever written an article about?"
"Murder cases."
At his answer Molly couldn't help but sighed heavily and said, "another one."
The man sitting next to her lifted his eyebrows at her words. "Excuse me?"
Molly blushed has she realized the words to thought she had kept for herself had actually been said, out lout.
"I'm sorry, it's just that, I have a friend and his fascinated by murder cases, it sees them as puzzles to solve."
"It's a bit of the same for me, except I let someone else solve the puzzle and then I write about it. I wonder what it is that pushes someone so far that he or she becomes a killer."
"I try to provide answers to the families…" Molly said after a moment.
"How so?"
"I'm a pathologist. I work at Bart's morgue." She explained, expected that the man sitting next to her would stand up and sit somewhere else. He didn't.
"My name is James Bowen by the way." He said extending his hand to her.
"Molly Hooper. Dr. Molly Hooper." She responded taking his hand in hers.
"Nice to meet you, Molly Hooper!"
"Likewise." The pathologist said with a smile.
A few moments later, Molly noticed that James looked at her intently. "Is there something wrong?" She inquired, suddenly feeling nervous under his stare.
"Oh no, no, sorry. It's just… since you told me your name… it sounds familiar and I cannot pin point why, that's all."
"You've probably have written my names in your articles before, if you're interested by murder cases. I sometimes assist Sherlock Holmes from time to time…"
"Oh my… you know Sherlock Holmes???"
Why had she said that? Why had she mentioned Sherlock's name? the entire purpose of this voyage to see her mother was to forget Sherlock Holmes so, why had she mentioned him for cry sake? Molly girl you like to torture yourself mentally. She couldn't pretend she hadn't said she knew the Detective so, she confirmed it.
With a heavy sighed she said, "Yes, I know him." But that's all I'm willing to say about him."
"How does he work?" James asked.
"I'm not going to say one more word." Molly insisted.
"Ok, sorry, I didn't want to offend you. It's just that its fascinating to see how his mind words and the way the man solves crimes is somewhat unusual."
"That it is." The words had left her before she realized it. Molly could help smiling has he mind pictured him working on a something interesting.
The visit to her mother might be more interesting than she first thought it would be. James seemed to be a nice guy and who knows maybe something could come out of this… she suddenly felt a bit stupid and desperate. Hopefully, she wouldn't become one of those women ready be a man no matter what he looked like as long as it was a man.
***
Sherlock accompanied by John were seated in a taxi heading for Molly Hooper's flat. When John knocked on the door, both of them expected to hear her voice telling them to wait just a minute before coming to open the door, but nothing came. They waited a few more moments, John knocked again… they waited still nothing.
"Maybe we should enter." John suggested. "She could have fallen and be unconscious, lying on her bathroom floor"
"If that's the case that could explain why she doesn't answer the door." Sherlock said, pensively. After a couple of seconds, he made his decision. John watched as he saw his friend grab for something in his pockets…
The clock of Molly's flat was picked after a few instants, Sherlock entered followed by John who closed the door behind him.
Nothing seemed out of place, the flat was small and tidy. Sherlock looked around the kitchen while John looked the other rooms. There was no trace of Molly Hooper.
"She's not here."
"I got that. She left for a few days."
"What, you do you… never mind."
"Toby's not here…"
"Toby?"
"Her cat. My guess is she left it with her best friend. That's the most logical explanation. There hasn't been any grocery shopping for a couple days judging from what's in the cupboards…" He pointed out. Sherlock was about to continue when John call his name.
"Mmhm, what is John?"
"I found this envelope in the drawer… it's… it's addressed to you."
Sherlock Holmes looked surprised when he recognized Molly's handwriting. He opened the envelope and unfolded the sheet of paper and started to read the words Molly had written.
Dear Sherlock,
I guess, the time has come for me to tell you how I really feel about you. I suspect that you know it already, but that you willingly chose not to act on it. First of all, you have to know that I admire you and respect you. You have such an amazing mind, I'm privileged to know you, but I can't go on like this anymore.
Caring for you is not an important thing, I get that. I know that you like to have your mind focused on the case when one comes along. I love helping you and being able to anticipate your needs on a case, I love working with you, Sherlock, but I can't take the way you treat me anymore or other people for that matter. I don't want to change you, I just want to make you understand that caring about someone isn't a disease, or a virus that you get sick of. No, love and care enrich your personality as well as your life… I know it, because even though I spend my days with cadavers in the morgue, with victims of crimes, accidents or whatever it is that has ended they lives they talk to me. Not verbally of course, but at the end of the day, I am their voice when I am able to put their relatives at ease by providing them with an answer to their questions. I know what you're thinking: no one can really give them all the answers, but still, I can tell them if their loved one suffered or not when they passed away. That's what I do, Sherlock, my job is as important for me as it is for you, except that I have feelings that I can't suppress. I'm not a machine, I want to love and live. Sure, loving someone can hurt, but it's better to be hurt by loving someone who doesn't love you back than not to love at all, believe me…
We have one life and it's short, we both know that but I want to enjoy it as much as possible, and I'd like you to stay in it but I will not let myself be treated like a puppet or being discarded by you whenever you don’t need me anymore. Your violin is handled with more respect than the people in your life and by people, I mean, John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, you don't even bother to remember his first name, and me.
You're missing a great deal in your life, Sherlock. Life is so full of wonderful things and you won't ever know about them because you won't let yourself be sentimental. I love you, and will miss you so very much, but I'm done.
I've decide to move on.
Yours sincerely, Molly.
John looked at him as he read the paper in his hands and he noticed some very slight changes in his face, his jaw tightening almost unperceptively. His long fingers grasping the sheet of paper more firmly. He was certain, Sherlock himself wasn't aware of this changes in his posture, but they were there, whatever that letter contained, the detective didn't like it.
"Sherlock are you alright?" John asked.
No response came, all he got was disdain, his friend let the paper fall of his hands landing on the floor; He watched as Sherlock left the flat without a word.
What the… "Sherlock wait!" He called after him as he picked up the letter Molly had written to the him. He ran after him. His friend was hailing a taxi.
"What's going on?"
"Go ahead, read Molly's letter."
John Watson did as he was told, and couldn't help a small smirk that appeared on his lips.
"What are you smirking about?" Sherlock asked aggravated.
"She finally did it. Molly finally told you what she had in her heart, you finally know you are insensitive and hurtful a lot of times."
"It's not my fault that people can handle my way of being. I can't reshape myself to please others. It's not my fault that great minds can't be understood."
"No, it's not your fault, but as your as such a great mind as you say, you could be a little bit more considerate of others and definitely the ones who care about you. And as far as I'm concern the girl has been right to tell you all that she did. And she's also right about the fact that you miss a lot in your life."
"No, I'm not." He huffed as with that, John knew their conversation was over.
When the taxi stopped the claimed into it in silence.
So, Molly is up to visit her mother, she met a journalist on the way, will they stay simply an acquittanced or will there be a development in their relationship? Did Molly's letter not affect him? How will he react if Molly stays away longer than a few days?
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