Molly Hooper's Best Worst Day

Chapter 1 - The worst day...

Author's note 1: I've been in the Sherlock fandom for over a year, and I really wanted to share my stories with the wonderful people I met. The barrier, however, has been the language. My native idiom is Portuguese.

But now, I am happy to present, Molly Hooper's Best Worst Day, narrating what happened before and after that phone call from Sherlock on episode 'The Final Problem'. At least from my perspective.

I would like to thank LLALVES , English translator, proofreader, writer and streamer, who very willingly read my translation and improved it a lot!

After these few necessary explanations and well-deserved thanks, let's get to the story! Please, don't forget to leave a comment after reading! This motivates me a lot!

* Small adjustments can be made to the story in the future.

***************************************************
The day had not yet dawned when Molly Hooper awoke to the meowing of Toby lying by the foot of her bed. It was not a common behaviour for the cat. Besides always being silent, he was used to jumping onto the furniture to sleep next to her.

However, what made her really worried were the sounds he was making, which indicated that the little animal was suffering.

"What is it, sweetheart?" she asked, throwing the blanket aside and bending down to pick up the kitty in her lap.

Toby extended his claws and scratched her arm. Even though he did not mean to hurt her, his behaviour was totally out of the ordinary.

Molly examined the animal's body for any sign of injury and when she did not find any evidence that would justify that strange behaviour, she checked his belongings and retrace his last steps.

The search stopped when she saw liquid faeces and some little red spots in his litter box. Molly's heart raced.

"No, no, no..." She had to control herself to hold back the tears. It was important to remain rational so she could save her pet.

Without delay, she placed a blanket inside the pet carrier and put Toby on it before closing the door. Then she changed clothes — without thinking about what to wear —, grabbed her purse and left the house with the cat. Molly worried about nothing but him, for her companion of so many years deserved that attention.

The guardian drove as fast as she could to the veterinary clinic where she used to take him for vaccinations and check-ups. She called the vet ahead of time to let him know of her emergency. Veterinarian Noah Barnett could tell by Molly's expression that something serious was happening there. He had never seen her so desperate in all her years taking care of Toby.

"Have you ever found him like this before?" the man not much older than her asked as he took the cat out of the pet carrier and held him in his arms. He was wearing white clothes and a white lab coat.

Toby was becoming increasingly apathetic.

"Actually, it was Toby who asked me for help." Molly wiped away one of the tears streaming down her face.

There was no longer any reason to hold back the tears as the two of them walked into the clinic.

"I'll examine him and find out what's going on." Noah opened one half of the double door that separated the reception from the offices with one hand. "I'd rather you wait here," he said due to Molly's altered state. "I'll take good care of him," he promised.

"I know you will." She tried to smile, but the tears that welled up in her eyes watered her smile.

"You can make yourself comfortable." He showed the padded chairs near the reception desk, still empty because it was so early in the morning. Only the professionals on duty were there.