Chapter 26

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            “Sherlock, that was incredibly stupid of you,” Sherlock awoke to Molly’s voice. “Jumping out the window.”

            Sherlock opened his eyes. Molly sat on the edge of his hospital bed.

            He gave her smile. “Define ‘incredibly stupid’.”

            Molly rolled her eyes, a smile escaping her lips as he grinned at her. “Jumping out a window and hiding in London. What the hell were you thinking?”

            “Actually, I climbed out the window.” Sherlock said.

            Molly shook her head. “My point still stands. Why did you do it?”

            Sherlock winced as he moved to turn his morphine dose up. “I had to speak to someone.”

            “Who?”

            “A woman.”

            Molly raised her eyebrows. “Janine?”

            “No,” Sherlock said, shaking his head. “We are completely through. I was talking to the woman who shot me.”

            Molly frowned. “So, a woman shoots you and while the hospital you think, ‘You know what a fantastic idea is? I should go talk to my shooter! It’ll be great!’ and then you just climb out the window and have a meeting with her? Sherlock, I understand that she failed to kill you, but what if she would have succeeded the second time?”

            “She wasn’t trying to kill me,” Sherlock defended. “She was trying to kill Magnusson. The shot was to incapacitate me while she made a quick escape before the ambulance arrived. She phoned the ambulance, making sure it could get to me in time. She saved my life.”

            “She shot you.”

            “Mixed messages. I assure you we are fine now.”

            “So,” Molly said. “She must be someone you know. Who was it?”

            “Just Mary.” Sherlock said, looking down at his hands.

            Molly heard herself gasp. “Mary? Mary Watson?”

            “Yep.”

            “Oh my god,” Molly said. “Does John know?”

            “Yes,” Sherlock told her. “We both had a meeting with Mary. John’s angrier then I am. I told him we could trust her, but he is being a little overdramatic.”

            Molly laughed in disbelief. “Sherlock, she shot you! You should be angry!”

            “Well,” Sherlock said, frowning. “I am not, so neither you nor John should be angry. If I can forgive her, you can too.”

            They sat in silence for a moment, Molly looking down at her hands, which were placed in her lap, and Sherlock looking out the window.

            Finally, Molly broke the silence. “When do you get out of here?”

            “About two weeks, maybe longer,” Sherlock said. “Doctor’s suggested I take two weeks off from working after that. I see that as highly unlikely.”

            “What will you do then?”  Molly asked.

            Sherlock let out a breath. “I’ll take small cases; one that I can solve without leaving the flat.” He was silent for a beat. “Maybe, you could come over some, and keep me company while John and Mary do, what ever they will be doing.”

            “That would be lovely,” Molly said. “But I believe John may be spending more time with you, since he is angry at Mary.”

            “No, I think they’ll work it out soon enough.”

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            The day Sherlock was able to go back to Baker Street, John had to work. He asked Molly, who luckily had the day off of work, to watch him. Molly arrived that morning.

            “Molly.” Sherlock said when he opened the door.

            Molly gave him a smile. “Hello Sherlock.”

            “Please,” Sherlock stepped aside, and gestured towards the sitting room. “Come in.”

            Molly stepped in, taking off her coat and hanging it on the coat rack. “Sherlock,” She said. “You should rest. How about I make you a cup of tea?”

            “I’ve been resting for over a week, Molly,” Sherlock said. “I’d prefer to not lay around until I am able to work again.”

            “Doctor’s orders, Sherlock.” She walked to the kitchen while Sherlock sighed and sat in his armchair. When Molly was done making the tea, she walked into the sitting room and handed Sherlock his cup, and then sat down with her own.

            “So,” She said after she was seated. “Welcome home. I assume it’s good to be back.”

            “It really is.” Sherlock said, sipping his tea.

            Molly looked round the room. “It must be quiet. Without John, I mean.”

            “At times, yes.” Sherlock said, looking into is cup as if he were looking for something.

            “You know,” Molly said. “You can have me anytime.” She blushed. “No, no! I don’t mean that! I just mean that, if you need – if you want someone to– never mind.”

            Sherlock smirked at her. “Yes.”

            “Sorry?” Molly said.

            “Yes,” Sherlock repeated. “You can come over more.”          

            “Are you sure?” Molly asked. “I don’t want to be a bother.”   

            “You won’t be.” Sherlock said.

            Molly smiled. “You know, Sherlock. I think sometimes, you don’t need to be alone.”

            Sherlock looked up at her. “Who said I’m lonely?”

            “Your eyes,” Molly said. “I know that look, Sherlock.”

            Sherlock knew what she was talking about.

            “You look sad,” She had said all those years ago. “When you think he can’t see you.”

            He looked down again. “Anytime, Molly.”

            Molly looked up. “Hmm?”

            “Come over anytime you like,” Sherlock repeated. “I think I would enjoy that.”

            Molly smiled. “I think I would too.”   

            Sherlock looked up, and gave her a smile. 

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