The Woman Who Counted (A Sherlolly Tale)

Chapter 43

            "Your hand will be fine," John said, touching Molly's hand lightly with his as he examined it, "It'll be sore, of course, it's quite bruised, but other than that, it's fine." He laid her hand back on her lap gently. "What was so wrong that you had to go punch a wall? I don't believe I've ever seen you so mad."

"I, erh," Molly looked away, her cheeks going rosy as she hide her face with her hair, "I don't know what got into me."

"Nonetheless," John said, "I'm glad your okay. If you had broken your hand, you wouldn't be at work for quite some time."

"Thanks, John," Molly said quietly, looking away from him, "I'm sorry that I had to be your homework."

"He had no other plans," Sherlock said. He lifted her injured hand gently and pressed his lips to it before placing it back on her lap. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

John closed his eyes and shook his head lightly. "Sherlock, how many times must I tell you? I can speak for myself," John said, frustration showing in his demeanour. "I swear, sometimes I just want to smack you."

"Whoa, John," Mary said as she stepped into the room, her voice light since she had just put the baby to sleep, "I thought we weren't going to teach violence to our Rose. Don't let her hear you." She gave a joking smile, but it faltered as she saw how blank Molly's expression was. "Molly, what's happened?"

"Really." John leaned forward, his eyes questioning Sherlock.

Sherlock sighed. "We have a lead in the Moriarty case and ... it isn't good."

"What's he done?" Mary asked.

"He's gone to Essex."

John furrowed his brow. "Why the hell would he go to Essex?"

Mary looked just as confused as her husband. "I lived in Essex for a year, and I can assure you there is nothing special about it. Really, I hated Essex."

"But there is something there," Sherlock said, "Someone – someones – are there. Molly's mother and sister."

"What does he want with them?" John asked.

Molly took in a sigh and wiped a tear from her cheek. "He wants to get to me. And by getting to me, he gets to Sherlock."

John shook his head. "But what is he going to do?"

"How the hell should I know?" Molly sobbed. She took a moment to strengthen her broken voice and took a deep breath before speaking again. John watched her with kind eyes as she spoke, sorry for her. "I – we – can only assume that it isn't good."

"And so you were angry about that?" Mary asked.

Molly looked up into their concerned faces. "Do you blame me?"

Mary shook her head lightly, and spoke with a voice just as light, "No."

It was a few moments before anyone spoke again. They had all been thinking about the situation at hand. John and Mary both tried to think of ways to help while Sherlock and Molly kept thoughts on what they would do upon reaching Essex.

Finally, John broke the silence. "When are we going?"

"We?" Sherlock questioned, looking between John and Mary.

"Sherlock," John said, "I've got a family that I need to keep safe. Moriarty doesn't only affect your life. He affects my life, and all of London's life – perhaps even the world's life due to his strength and power. I'm going with you."