"He's off someplace," Molly confessed as Watson walked in. "He's been sitting there for hours. I don't think he's well."
Watson looked at Sherlock in puzzlement. "For hours, you say?"
Molly nodded, fear on her face. Watson had came as quick as he can. It was seven o'clock.
Watson looked back at Sherlock. Amazement filled him. It was just like before, that afternoon all those days ago. Sherlock was daydreaming again.
A frown twisted Watson's lips. I take it that you're thinking so hard because you haven't told her.
"Well," Molly nudged Watson. "Is he all right?"
Watson tried to say teasingly, "He's breathing."
"But is he all right?" Molly asked, her voice a pitch higher.
Watson turned to Molly, taken aback when he saw the angst on her face.
"I-I'm sure he'll be fine." Watson said quickly. "How are you, Mrs. Sherlock?"
Watson smiled a bit when Molly looked flustered. She looked down.
"Fine, I suppose." She said, sounding rather distracted. "I'm easily upset now," she confessed, looking up. Her eyebrows were lowered in a sheepish manner.
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about." Watson said, trying to force the discomfort away. Women are pregnant all the time. Watson told himself. Just because Molly's only a few weeks doesn't mean that some things don't start early. Not that I would know . . .
"I expect Sherlock's being gentle." Watson said, a hint of a warning tone filling his voice.
Molly looked a little warm in the face. Her cheeks reddened.
"More than gentle?" Watson asked, surprised.
Molly nodded. "Very," she hummed.
Hm. Watson was warm with discomfort. "I wouldn't disturb him. Last time I saw him thinking like this, he was off kilter for days."
Molly crossed her arms, her face paling with worry.
"That's the problem, Watson!" She cried. "He's been like this for days and I don't know what to do! That's why I called you."
Watson took a step back, wary of Molly's explosive state. "Er, Molly, he. . . He, uh, might tell you when he's ready."
"What is so important that he can't speak to me anymore?" Molly asked in a high-pitched voice. "He'll wake up and make coffee. He'll go to work. After dinner, he'll be like this," she gestured to her rather comatose looking husband, "for hours. Then, I'll be ready for bed, but he'll come in and, um, attack me."
Molly looked bewildered. "And then we'll go to sleep and it starts all over again!"
Watson didn't know what to say. He looked at Sherlock and then blushed.
"Let's talk in a different room." Watson advised, grabbing the worried girl by the arm.
Now in the comfort of the living room, Watson took a seat in a plush chair. He looked over at Molly as she paced.
"I'm starting to think it's me." She confessed. "Maybe I'm not the wife he wanted and he's thinking of divorce-"
"That is certainly not the case!" Watson exclaimed. He leapt off the chair and grabbed Molly by the shoulders. "Never ever think that way, Molly. You are everything he wants."
Tears fell onto Molly's cheeks.
"Then why won't he speak to me?"
Sherlock was having a terrible time trying to find a way to explain.
My dear girl, an enemy of mine has returned. You are to go to Mrs. Hudson's flat and not leave until I have chased him away.
No. She'd ask a lot of questions, questions Sherlock wasn't sure about answering.
Molly, I used to be friends with a man who has now become deranged. He is coming to find me and while he is looking, he will hurt the ones I love. Meaning you, Watson, Mrs. Hudson, possibly Lestrade-
No. That was too brief, almost nonchalant.
Molly, I made a mistake in marrying you because an evil friend of mine wants to hurt me-
No. Too upsetting, even for Sherlock.
There's a man who wishes me killed. If he sees me with you, you will be hurt, if I can't stop that from happening. I propose that you move in with Mrs. Hudson so I may face him myself.
Maybe. It showed signs of promise.
Darling, your life is in danger because you married me.
Very, very vague. No. She'd scream and never let him out of her sight, which would be nice at first, until-
I believe that we must part ways in order to save your life.
No. Too brief and plain. Also vague. And absurd.
Here's an idea. Why don't you move in with Mrs. Hudson while I fight off an old friend who is now completely evil?
No. It screamed teenager-saving-the-world.
Why don't we all move to America and I can explain myself in a few weeks?
Absolutely not. Just . . . just no.
Sherlock moved for the first time in two hours.
He groaned and put his face in his hands.
"Damn Moriarty to hell," Sherlock moaned.
The next day, Sherlock finally spoke as Molly passed him to set the table.
She whirled around so fast, eyes wide with hope.
Sherlock looked down at his hands.
"There's something I have to tell you."
He went with, Darling, your life is in danger because you married me.
He was astonished to find that the vaguest one was the easiest to say. He went into detail for her benefit and waited, wary.
Molly, poor girl, reacted slowly at first.
Molly's eyes went to Sherlock and she frowned with shaking lips. Sherlock watched her struggle to process his news. Her lips pursed together and she glanced up at him, one hand going to her forehead. Her fingers began to shake.
Suddenly her face paled and she swayed backwards. Rushing to her aid, Sherlock grabbed her into a hug and sat her down onto the couch. Her rapid gasping alarmed him.
"Molly?" Sherlock probably should have asked her to sit down. "Molly?"
Molly waved a hand, silencing him. She inhaled quickly, her brown eyes going to his face.
"I-Is h-he g-going t-to h-hurt y-you?" She breathed through her pants.
Sherlock didn't know how to answer without making her faint. He didn't trust his voice.
He nodded and was caught off guard when she fainted anyway.
With Sherlock's help, Watson explained to the girls. The girls meaning Heather, Annabelle, Lila, and Mrs. Hudson.
Heather looked worried, but not as worried as Mrs. Hudson.
"The police will find him, right?" Annabelle asked, giving the room a fearful glance as if Moriarty was hiding in plain sight.
"Of course," Watson said. "And we have Sherlock."
Sherlock smiled tightly as the girls looked at him. Mrs. Hudson looked very red in the face.
"What will you do?" She asked. "Find him and then?"
Sherlock and Watson exchanged a painful look.
Mrs. Hudson caught on at the moment Heather did.
Heather sounded awed while Mrs. Hudson sounded on the verge of fainting.
"You'll kill him?"
Sherlock nodded curtly.
"If I have to," he said.
Heather exchanged a proud, astonished glance with Lila. Annabelle looked wary.
"Let's hope you won't have to," Annabelle murmured.