Variazoni (Sherlolly II)

Chapter Thirteen

Sherlock looked up as the door opened. He and John had just come back after a long day chasing down leads. Most had led to a dead end. CCTV had been useless as well. He'd been waiting for Molly to come home with any leads. She closed the door and put her jacket on the hook. She moved slowly, her eyes downcast.

"Molly?" She looked up at him, eyes wide. He frowned. "Find anything?"

She nodded and sat down in John's chair. She startled immediately after, noticing he had moved it back to where it usually was in front of the leather one. Relaxing again, she stared at her hands. "The um... the stab wounds are all more or less the same. But there's also these marks. None of them are the same or in any order as far as I could see." She pulled a stack of photos from her pocket and held it out to him. He took it and looked at each photo. Sticking them all up on the wall, he frowned at them.

"Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

"You... Where did you go last night?"

He turned, hearing anger and sadness creep into her voice. She was standing behind him, her hands clutching at her pants nervously. "I went to an abandoned factory. A drug den. One of my homeless network frequents it. I needed intel."

She nodded and rocked quickly back and forth on her feet. She hugged herself tightly and sniffled, her eyes filling with tears. "Again?" She asked, her voice no more than a whisper. "We're doing this again?"

"No." He held his hands out and rushed to her side. "Molly, no. He spiked my drink. I promise, I wasn't trying to get high! It wasn't my fault."

She shook her head. "You couldn't have gotten to him some other way? Had someone carry a message?" Her hands clenched into fists and she glared up at him. "No, you just had to go in yourself!"

"I am clean!" He snapped.

"And it's probably too late to test for that, isn't it?! Is that why John and Mycroft were here? Who found you?"

"John did but-"

"How? How, Sherlock?!"

"He was picking someone else up!"

"Oh sure, he was. One last try! I agreed to give you one last chance and this is what you do. I can't do it. I can't watch you waste your life away again. Do you know what it's like, Sherlock? Watching someone die?"

"I'm clean!"

"Clean?" She laughed once, a humorless laugh. Her jaw clenched. She shook her head slowly. Her hand whipped up and slapped him. Three times she slapped him before stepping back and taking a deep breath. "How dare you throw away the beautiful gift you were born with. And how dare you do this to me again."

"Molly..." He shook his head and rubbed his cheek. Blinking a few times to clear his vision, he watched her walk away. "Molly?" He frowned. "Where are you going?"

"Home." She picked up her overnight bag and began gathering her things. Sherlock stood in the hallway, watching her go between the bedroom and the bathroom.

"Molly, listen to me! I promise I'm clean. I'm not going back to the drugs, I don't even want to. Just... God why won't you listen?"

She shrugged the bag onto her shoulder and glared at him. "Because I'm upset and I don't know if I can trust you right now. So I'm going home where I can think this through and calm down and maybe we can talk after that."

He opened his mouth to respond but stopped. She was probably right. Stepping aside, he let her brush past him. "But we will talk, right?" He met her gaze as she turned to close the door. She stared at him for a moment before nodding and leaving.