Chapter 1

Molly Hooper struggled down the hallway of St. Bartholomew's, an enormous amount of charts stacked high in her arms, as was the norm. She walked quickly down the hall, her messenger bag hitting her heels as she walked. Late again. I hope he isn't too cross. She quickly turned the corner, knowing the hospital hallways by heart, each step being one she had taken every day for years. She soon came to the door of her lab and backed through it so as not to drop the many charts she had in her hands.

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were at their usual places. Sherlock was seated in front of his microscope, John at his side preparing and handing slides. She seemed to have gone unnoticed and she let out a sigh of relief. She set the charts and paperwork down on the edge of the lab countertop and began to sort through them as Sherlock had requested.

"About time you showed up, Molly." Sherlock chided without even taking a moment to look up from his view through the microscope. "I'd almost begun to worry."

Molly's attention was peaked. "Really?" She asked with a voice full of surprise.

"No." Sherlock answered. Molly's shoulders slumped at her disappointment. John looked up and shrugged, exchanging the usual 'you know how he is' look between them.

"Okay." She stated and started over to the back cabinet of the lab to collect the tests that Sherlock had requested be run. She was feeling a bit sluggish today, and she wasn't quite sure why. Her headache had reared its ugly head once more. She put a hand to her temple. Please don't let it be another migraine. I just got over the last one just two days ago. She shook it off, trying to appear her usual chipper self. Sherlock had taken no notice, but John had. He was watching her intently has she went on about her work.

"Are you feeling okay, Molly?" John asked, his brow darkened with concern. She glanced up.

"Oh! Just a bit of a headache. Nothing a few aspirin won't cure." She smiled, and appeared her normal self. John returned the smile and quickly took the slide away from Sherlock that he began to thrust in John's direction.

"Are headaches normal for you? Do you get them often?" John inquired as she flurried past him and started to run tests on the first batch of samples. Sherlock said nothing.

"Oh, just here and there. Probably just stress from work." Molly stated and glanced at Sherlock as he busied himself, lost within his work. John remained concerned.

"Perhaps, but if they get too bad, you should probably be seen. They have medicine for those who suffer chronically." John gave his two cents and turned back to Sherlock.

"Yes, yes, John. Haven't you ever had a headache before? It's nothing that's going to kill her. Concentrate." Sherlock spat. Must be a particularly frustrating case. He's especially fiesty today. Molly thought to herself. She steadied herself against the counter as another pang of her oncoming headache troubled her. John continued to watch, the only one in the room who seemed to notice she was ailing. She did her best to straighten herself up and continue her tests. John eventually took his eyes off of her to assist Sherlock, and Molly couldn't be more happier to be unnoticed.

Molly returned to work the next day, full on migraine in play within her tender head. Colors played before her eyes, sharp images that jabbed at her brain with their clarity. She felt green around the gills and even her equilibrium seemed off. She stumbled into the lab, thankful that her two usual visitors were not present. She flicked off the lab lights, and pulled out her ear muffs she had stored in her bag. She didn't dare wear them on the way through London and the hospital, but in the comfort of her lab where she could be by herself she gladly wore them to keep out any sudden loud noises that would stab at her like knives.

She was leaning over the completed batch of samples from the day before and was sorting through them when she felt a tap upon her shoulder. She cried out in alarm and spun about, barely catching herself on the corner of the lab countertop as she did so. Sherlock stood in front of her, a sort of amused look upon his face. She removed the ear muffs and simply stared at him, trying to calm her heart. "Good morning, Ms. Hooper. I was hoping you'd completed those samples for me." Sherlock stated. She nodded and handed him the paperwork she had been looking over and placed a hand upon her eyes and winced. Sherlock took no notice, at least none of which she saw, but as a sudden wave of nausea caught her she doubled over and Sherlock eyed her with a bit of dismay. "Is something the matter?"

"I'm just not feeling well today." She tried for a smile but feared it came out looking freakish as she couldn't help but wince once more. "I've got a migraine coming on."

"Perhaps you should take the day off if you cannot function." Sherlock stated without any further concern and turned to view his results. Molly stood there for a moment, temporarily aggravated by his obvious lack of concern, but also not in the mood to argue considering. Should I call John? No, she didn't want to worry John with a silly old migraine. She'd make an appointment with one of her doctor associates. Perhaps this afternoon. The sooner I get started on medication the better off I'll be. She decided it would be best, slinking into her office and getting on the phone to schedule her appointment.

The group was once again inside the lab the day Molly got her news. Her phone had rang while she was assisting Sherlock with an x-ray. He seemed disgruntled when she excused herself to take it, but of course he seemed to think his work was more important than anything else that could be going on in London at the time being.

Molly had taken the call in her office. She'd been feeling a bit better, taking the medication the doctor had prescribed her. She was sleeping a lot more though. The meds tended to make her groggy. At least the auras have gone away for the time being...She supposed she should be thankful. Until she got onto the phone. She nearly dropped it as the doctor relayed her results to her. Her CT scan, her bloodwork, now he wanted to do an MRI. She had barely been able to thank the man for his time and place the receiver back into its cradle. She merely leaned upon her desk, taking it all in. Cancer? A tumorous lesion in my brain. How on god's green earth...She felt the wind had been knocked out of her lungs. The room suddenly felt to hot and she struggled to catch her breath before a full on panic attack ensued.

After several minutes, she emerged from her office, coat on, bag about her shoulders and hurrying through the lab. She passed the two men and didn't bother to look back at them. "I've taken ill. I'm going home. I'm sorry." She exited before a word could be spoken. Sherlock glanced up at John, questioning. John shrugged, but feeling a bit concerned longed to go after her and ask if she was okay. Probably better I didn't. I'll leave her be. John sighed and elected to call her later perhaps and make sure she was okay.

Molly sat on her bed, staring out the window of her flat as the cold London rain pelted down in long silvery streaks. I've got a cancerous brain tumor. Bloody figures. Molly didn't know what to do. She wanted to cry, she felt that was proper, but the tears wouldn't come. I'm in shock. That's what it is. As soon as it sinks in that my impending demise is near then I'll be able to cry. Until then I'll just remain...numb I suppose. At least she was thinking somewhat clearly. What's a girl to do with the time she has left? What if its operable? What if it isn't? What do I tell John and Sherlock? Do I even mention it to them? I'm sure they'll catch on eventually. I'll just deal with it until I can't hide it anymore. They probably won't even notice if I just quit and holed up in this flat until it was all over with.

Molly sighed and laid back upon the bed, curling up in the fetal position and continuing to look towards the window. Perhaps I could go stay with mum for a bit. If she's back. She's always traveling. Ever since dad passed away. That thought stung. She felt tears prick her eyes but that was all. She wanted so badly to cry and let all of the anguish out.

Her phone began to ring at her bedside. She picked up up, observing that it was John calling. She sighed, preparing herself and answered. "Hello?"

"Hi, Molly. It's John. I was wondering, are you okay?" He sounded concerned. Molly thanked him silently for being a thoughtful friend.

"I'm feeling a little better. Doctor says I just need to take some meds and get some rest. Then I'll be right as rain. I'll probably be there tomorrow if you guys need any help." Molly lied.

"Oh, okay. If you need anything don't hesitate to call me. Sherlock asked after you by the way." John wasn't a very good liar but Molly appreciated the thought.

"That was nice of him. Tell him I'm well. I'll see you in the morning." Molly physically forced herself to smile just to make her voice sound more believable. "Bye." She hung up not even waiting for John's cordial goodbye answer and laid back upon the bed. Perhaps now is the time to start really living. When you've got so little time left I might as well take those risks I never took and be damned with the results. Molly considered how this applied to Sherlock. That's right where I'll start. I'll tell Sherlock exactly how I feel. What have I got to lose?

Molly decided this thought made her feel a bit better, if not more numb. She drifted off to sleep to the sound of the rain pelting upon her flat, the medicine doing their job and taking over her conscious and subconscious.

If the page breaks didn't appear I apologize. Still trying to get the hang of this thing.

I'm trying this out as one chapter. If anyone likes the angstiness and would like to see where this story goes, then feel free to PM or review and let me know. I'd love to finish the story, I've got lots of great things planned for Molly and her friends, but it's going to be a sad ending nonetheless. Future Sherlolly pairing.

Please please let me know what you think!