The Woman Who Counted (A Sherlolly Tale)

Chapter 5

Author's Note: This chapter was revised on 9 January 2018. And it is far different and much better than its original 2013 version. Honestly, I may make a book dedicated to comparing my old writing style to my new writing style because I have improved so much over the past five years.

Molly awoke to the grumbling of a coffee grinder and the gurgling of the pot. She rubbed the dust from her eyes and sat up, momentarily wondering who could be making coffee. When she realised who she fell back onto the guest bed, hands covering her eyes as memories of the day before came flooding back to her.

All of a sudden there was a massive pain at her temple. There was so much she and Sherlock needed to discuss but discussing them would also confirm that everything, Moriarty and Sherlock's "suicide" and all of the things Molly didn't want to be real, was real.

But still, she had to face the facts.

So she mustered up the courage to roll out of bed, wrap her fluffy yellow dressing gown around her body, and padded down the stairs into the front room where Sherlock lay on the sofa. His eyes were closed, fingers steepled together and pressed against his lips. Entirely still. Molly knew she shouldn't disrupt him, but she also knew that they both needed to know exactly what was going on.

"Sherlock?"

He said nothing. The rise and fall of his chest was the only confirmation that he was indeed alive. Molly edged forward, setting a hand on the back of the sofa.

"Sherlock."

"You have questions."

Somehow she hadn't expected him to answer the second time. She hadn't quite figured out what she wanted to say. "Well, yes. I ... um..." She looked around the room as if what she wanted to say was dancing about her, just out of her reach.

As the gargle of the coffee pot slowed Sherlock hopped off of the sofa and headed to the kitchen. "Coffee?"

"Thanks." He returned to the sofa a moment later with two tall mugs. She took it with another "thanks" as she sat on the sofa, sipping and swallowing the steaming liquid with a grimace she had tried hard to hold back.

A brow furrowed at her. "Problem?"

"No, not really. It's just, it's black."

"With two sugars, yes."

A giggle escaped as she looked at him, confused and questioning. "Sherlock, not everybody drinks coffee the way you do."

"Why not? I think my way is rather good. Stimulating. Great for focus."

"Well-" she stood up, taking her mug with her to the kitchen, "I prefer to have mine with some French Vanilla. The creamer helps cool it down too."

"Mh." He sipped from his own mug as she doctored hers. "Right then, I have questions too."

"You first?"

"How long are you willing to allow me to lodge with you?"

She returned from the kitchen and sat next to him. "How long will you need to?"

"Don't know." He set his mug on a coaster and turned to Molly. "I'm assuming that the investigation may take a few weeks. All suicides are investigated as homicides until substantial evidence proves it to be suicide. There will be a required tox screen for both myself and Moriarty, which will take about four to six weeks to show a result, as you know. They'll expect you to take a screening of me when you supposedly do my autopsy. The results, of course, won't matter because I'm not actually dead but I know the press will be eager to get their hands on the results of my autopsy and will keep the story of my suicide in the papers until they get all of the details they want. I give them a month and a half. Three tops. Until then, it's risky to even leave your flat."

"So you're just staying here until the press dies down?" He nodded.

"Yup," he said, popping the 'p' as he picked up his mug and sipped the coffee again.

"Okay, but what then?"

"Well, Mycroft should be dropping by any day now so we can discuss my moves. He's already got his people mapping out Moriarty's network so I guess the two or three months I'm stuck I will be planning the next couple of years. Which reminds me...." he set the mug down and pulled a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket, handing it to her as he picked his mug up again and leaned back on the sofa.

"What's this?"

"A list of all of the materials I will be needing for the next couple of months." She scanned the list. Nicotine patches, trousers and shirts (sizes included), hair dye, et cetera. Some things were reasonable, like the Earl Grey he asked for. But then he had "laptop" and "mobile phone" written down and she wondered (not for the first time) if perhaps she wasn't capable of providing him enough help.

"So, we need to go out and get these?"

"You need to go out and get those."

Molly raised a brow. "I want to help Sherlock, but money doesn't grow on trees. I could lend you maybe £100 but that's all"

"Oh, right." He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a card which he handed to her. It bore the name of Mycroft Holmes and she tried to hand it back to him.

"We can't spend his money, Sherlock."

"Of course we can." He pushed it back to her. "He gave it to me for this purpose. It was in the Lazarus plan. There should be about £4000 on there. That should be more than enough for everything on that list."

"Right. Guess that's what I'll be doing today." She stood, setting the card on the coffee table as she picked up her mug. "I'm going to go make some pancakes. How many do you want?"

"None."

"Why?"

"Oh, don't look like that." He waved her off. "I can last a couple more days."

"Without food?"

"Yes."

"Sherlock."

"What?"

She let out a deep sigh, shaking her head as she looked down at him. "You can't just not eat."

"Of course I can. Eating is just a distraction. I need to think."

"Which is hard to do while your stomach is eating away at itself - don't roll your eyes at me. I'm a doctor."

"You tend to corpses."

She nodded. "Yeah, and I know how to become a corpse too. I'd say I'm an expert."

He was resisting the urge to roll his eyes again but instead, he took a sip from his mug and looked away from her. "Fine."

"Okay. I'll ask again then: how many pancakes do you want?"

"One." She blinked at him. "Three."

Molly smiled. "Right away."