Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to BBC's Sherlock or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes or anything like that.

Molly couldn't make herself go back to her flat for any of her things that first night. As it was she was a weepy mess that John had to bundle into the back of a cab and all but carried into 221b. Sherlock had gotten his own cab claiming that he needed to think and to be alone, but John had his own opinions on why Sherlock had opted out of a cab ride for three. Why Sherlock had not mentioned something about this before, when he knew how serious something like this was, baffled John.

By the time that she and John had arrived at the flat Molly had mostly cried herself dry, and within ten minutes of their arrival John brought her a cup of tea and she was only hiccupping a little. "T-thank you." Molly stuttered in a way that only someone who has cried themselves hoarse seems to be able to do.

"Tea is the least I can do," John replied, "and since Sherlock seems to have retreated into his room . . ." He trailed off in a way that had Molly understanding exactly what John meant. Sherlock had arrived only moments after John and Molly and without so much as a backwards glace he had walked right past them and barricaded himself into his room. There were now not so faint strains of one of Sherlock's original violin compositions drifting down the hall to the front room.

"He isn't exactly the best with emotions." Molly finished the sentence for John and he nodded in agreement before standing to leave the room, however Molly stopped him with a light hand grasping at his own and a pleading voice that almost reminded John of a little child.

"Stay, um. . . Please John, don't leave me alone." As she spoke he turned back towards her, his face soft. As it turned out she just couldn't make herself drink more than a few sips of the tea and even as John correctly looked her over to make sure that it really would be best for him to stay Molly had set the cup, mostly full, on the low coffee table in front of her.

"I'm here Molly." John replied as he returned to the spot on the sofa next to Molly.

In the same second that John sat on the sofa next to Molly she was practically burrowed into John's side. She was seeking comfort and protection on the most basic level, and that was not something John had been expecting. Many women who did remove themselves from an abusive relationship tried to distance themselves from anyone with a Y chromosome, but to Molly, John was exactly the comfort she needed.

Now the exact reasons behind this confused both of the doctors that were in the room. John was not really any bigger or stronger than Molly's ghost, but maybe that was part of why she could trust him right now. What he was though was a quiet sort of strong, the kind that also allowed for a soft, almost romantic side, and made Victorian maidens swoon. So maybe that was why she felt so comfortable with him.

He waited a few minutes before wrapping his arms around her, he knew a little about what a feeling of being trapped could do to an abuse victim and he didn't want to frighten her, but he could tell that she was comfortable enough with him that in this case it might help her. So he pulled her close and made calming noses until he knew she was okay enough for him to check in on Sherlock.

The brooding consulting detective was still composing some sort of sad sounding song. John already wanted to throttle the infuriating man on the other side of the door for ignoring something so important, but to top it off the overwhelming volume of the violin was more irritating than soothing at the moment. So instead of following his first instinct when it came to Sherlock John settled for knocking on the bedroom door and, once the volume lowered somewhat, told Sherlock to try and keep it quiet. Then he returned to the front room to find Molly nursing her cup of tea.

"Are you alright?" John asked her as he finished his own cup of tea in two large gulps.

She nodded quietly and set her mug back on the table before responding. "I'm okay." Her voice was weaker than John could ever remember from her, and her was about to ask her another question when she spoke again with a slightly stronger voice this time. "I hate feeling vulnerable like that; I was never like this before. It was just with him everything was so gradual." By the end of her declaration John could tell that Molly was talking less to him and more to herself. This was going to be extremely difficult for her, the learning to be strong for herself, more than just being a survivor, but to be a warrior.

Not long after their talk Molly gradually fell asleep right where she was on the couch. John did his best to make her comfortable by carefully placing a pillow under her head and laying a blanket over her. He sent up a silent prayer that she would sleep well and would not be woken by bad dreams and then went to find Sherlock. He had something that was bothering him, that he needed to talk to Sherlock about.

He found Sherlock sitting at the foot of his bed. Sherlock's room had always been kept extremely clean so John had no problem walking over to where Sherlock was sitting. "You alright Sherlock?" He asked standing less than a meter away.

"Of course I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?" Sherlock asked. His voice was quick, biting, and forced.

"Good." John said nodding. "Good, because that means that I can yell at you. What were you thinking Sherlock? You knew all this time and you didn't say a thing about her being in trouble! Why didn't you say something sooner?"

Sherlock cringed away from John after the army doctor yelled at him, but he replied all the same. His voice was strained, almost tried though. "I don't know John; I guess everything just kind of got in the way. The case."

John may not condone the behavior, but he understood how Sherlock might so get caught up in a case or something that he simply considered more interesting. However, John was so hyped up on adrenaline that he could only think about how he wanted to continue yelling at Sherlock for his oversight, but that would never get through to Sherlock anyway.

So he left Sherlock to his own thoughts and walked back to the front room. There John found Molly still fast asleep on the couch. He didn't want to have her sleeping out on the sofa, but he didn't have much choice but to leave her there for now since he didn't want to wake her by accident if he tried to move her.

He settled for picking up Molly's abandoned mug of tea instead and carrying it to the kitchen, and while he was there he made himself some coffee. He planned to stay up for a few more hours, maybe update the blog or something, and to make sure that Molly would have someone close by in case she woke up with bad dreams.

Unfortunately John had been painfully correct in his prediction. Not even an hour after her quiet decent into sleep Molly woke up with a cold sweat covering the back of her neck and her breathing heavy. John had been just about to fall asleep at the kitchen table, thinking that it might be a quiet night for everyone, but was fully awake when he noticed that Molly was sitting up and swinging her feet off of the couch in an effort to stand up. He waited for her to walk to the kitchen so that she knew he was there before speaking.

"Are you okay?" He asked, standing and pulling out a chair for her. "Do you want some tea?" It was dark and Molly nearly tripped over the chair leg before she sat down and then tried to watch as John moved around the table.

"No, I'm alright, thank you though. Just sit with me?" Molly wasn't sure why John seemed to be offering tea to her so much. In fact it seemed to be the only real thing they had talked about for the last day, or at least since she had told him about the abuse.

"I am still the same person I was before John. You know that right?" She asked him as he sat across from her at the table. He looked shocked at her question.

It took both of them a long while to find the words they needed to talk everything out. Molly just wanted to make sure that John knew he did not have to walk on egg shells around her and he needed her to know that he was there to help her no matter what. They talked for nearly an hour before Molly could talk herself back to sleep and John wondered up to his own bed and fell asleep himself.