A Testament of Trauma

A Solemn Shock

Loud beeps of heart monitors can be heard throughout the emergency room floor. Nurses cuttle about, overseeing an array of victims. The squeaking of their shoes on the linoleum is all that can register in Mycroft's ears as he sits by his brother's bedside, glancing over at a weary-looking Dr. Watson, who had come to visit for the third day in a row.

Neither Sherlock nor Molly have woken up since the incident, and the doctors are getting more worried as the days go on. Molly sustained most of the impact from the lightning strike, which could result in a delayed cardiac arrest or brain damage if that doesn't come to pass.

Sherlock was struck and burned secondarily, but he was also close to another overdose at the time, which has unknown side effects on his body.

John looks over at him and rubs his face. "Coffee? You look like you could use a cup."

Mycroft shrugs, chin resting on his folded hands, which lay on top of his balancing umbrella. "I suppose that would be best."

With a quick nod, John takes his leave after cracking his back from the uncomfortable chair he had been sitting in.

Glancing over across the hall at an angle, Mycroft checks if he can see Molly's form through the half-drawn curtain, pulled for privacy. He can make out about half of her, her body bandaged from the burns and a light blanket pulled to her chest. It seems as though she is still in her coma. He can't help but feel bad for the woman. The only person who had come to visit her was her boss, Dr. Stamford, and most likely for work reasons, as well as out of obligation. Sherlock is truly all she has, just as she is the one who holds his vulnerabilities.

Anthea texts him and he grabs his phone, reading the message. His face turns more solemn when he reads how his team had reviewed the footage from in front of Baker Street and it seemed as though Sherlock and Miss Hooper were in an argument seconds before they were struck.

'Most likely due to his drug usage', Mycroft thinks to himself, sighing and sending a quick "thank you" reply to his assistant. He checks his schedule and sees that he has a meeting in a few hours. Flagging down a nurse, he asks again for their best opinion on Sherlock's condition and gets the same answer.

"I'm sorry sir, but we won't know much until he wakes up."

"Right, I thought so."

The nurse gives a sympathetic smile and walks away to attend to another patient just as John comes back down the hall, holding two paper coffee cups with sip lids.

"What did they say this time?"

"Same thing they have been saying for three days", Mycroft sighs, taking the coffee graciously and sipping on it, his nose crinkling in disgust, suddenly remembering that public places do not carry his special blend.

"Of course they did", John huffs. "God, if he ever wakes up, I'm going to kill him. He's past due", he tries to joke morbidly. "But in all seriousness, the drugs, again? Again?? He had Molly, they had been great together, and Sherlock seemed happier than I had ever seen him. What the hell could have ever possessed him into temptation again?"

Mycroft looks over his younger brother sadly, but also disappointingly. "I don't know. I usually know or am alerted when he is acting strangely, or a danger night is coming and...there was nothing. Seemingly no signs at all."

"Puzzling, isn't it? You, who usually knows everything. And me, who is usually bothered with everything. Yet neither of us knew. Mind-boggling."

"They were arguing when it happened. I received a message from Anthea. They reviewed the tapes, there was a lot of yelling and arguing. She must have seen him shooting up."

John pinches the bridge of his nose, then gets up and walks across to Molly's room, leaning against the wall as he watches her heart monitor track the beats of her heart, worriedly. He has never had the experience of seeing a victim of a lightning strike and having his friends be the first is never something he would have guessed. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he looks over her, half her body thickly bandaged from being burned. He draws in a breath and then lets it out shakily.

"C'mon Molly...we know Sherlock likes to be invincible, but I know from experience that you're fairly unbreakable too. I-I know he did something horrible. I know he lied, that you were fighting. I'm not going to make excuses for it or try to justify him. He's...infuriating, impossible...but he's also broken, much like you. That's why you two work so well, that's why you connect so well. You're like two halves of a shattered soul. And God, I am not the sappy type of person, and Mary is probably laughing at me from where she is for having that escape my lips, but it's true.

Now, I'm confident that Sherlock will wake up; he wasn't burned quite as much as you, and the drugs were flushed from his system, he's doing well from what the doctors can tell. But Molly, he will never be okay again, he will never ever recover if you don't wake up too. That will destroy him more than anything in his entire life up to this date has ever destroyed him, which says a fucking lot. He will blame himself; he will hate himself, and he will slip even deeper into drugs until he makes sure to overdose just for the mere hope of being with you again in some sort of afterlife. It may be a fantasy for him, but I have no doubt he would do it for the minuscule hope that it existed, just to be with you. You have to wake up...you have to be alright or there's no hope for him either."

John sniffs a bit and gently pats her wrapped hand. "You two have been through way too much shit to end in tragedy. It can't end this way, you hear me? Keep fighting. You've been fighting your whole life; don't stop now, Doctor Hooper. Just keep fighting, and come back to us, hm? You may not have blood relatives around to beg that of you, but you have a crazy makeshift family of people who care. Remember that."

He looks over her IVs and monitors one last time before turning to head back to Sherlock's room, feeling sad that she has nobody to sit by her through the night the way Sherlock does. As he reaches the threshold of her room, her heart monitor begins to beep loudly, making way to the alarm that signals a rapidly declining pulse. All John can do is to yell 'code blue!' to the nurses and watch in disbelief as they all run into Molly's room, bringing a crash cart along with them.