Title: Let's Stick to Ice
Disclaimer: Not mine
Author's notes: I'm a bit nervous about this one. I didn't know if anyone would be interested, so reviews would be appreciated.
It had been so easy for her to disappear. She simply told John and Mike that she was taking a holiday. John was happy to hear she was taking some time for herself; especially after all she had been through with Sherlock. She had helped him fake his death and had hidden him away in her own flat for the past year.
Mike had also been supportive of her holiday simply for the reason that she had worked at St. Bart's for over 5 years and had never taken a vacation. So when she had taken her two week holiday, she had put her time to good use. She had already found a cottage she liked before she had left for her holiday. She had already moved Toby in. Packing was easy due to the fact that she took nothing with her, nothing that would remind her of her old life. She bought all new furniture with the inheritance her parents had left her. The only things she did take were her photographs, letters, and diaries.
She didn't even take her clothes or shoes. She bought everything new. She couldn't stand the smell of her clothing any longer, or the smell of her flat. It still smelled of him, even though he had been gone and back into the world of the living for three months now. And after all that she had lost, all that she had suffered, she could no longer bare to come home from work after spending the day in his presence to his presence that lingered in her flat.
She had been watching him the past few months, very closely. She watched his mannerisms, his facial expressions, even how he worded things. She paid more attention to those things during those three months than she did when he lived with her.
She was becoming quite proficient in mimicking him. She had noticed how she had begun to crave his aloofness, his coldness, his distancing. It was much preferable to the pain that had slowly been killing her inside. His callousness and disregard for her had become to feel safe. She welcomed his cold, piercing eyes and his irritation with her. She could use him as a guide. Before she had decided to finally run away she had wondered how hard it would be to become him.
At first she had been frightened that he would notice the change in her. His damnable observation and deduction abilities would have made this extremely difficult, had he noticed. But of course he hadn't, because in the end, she did not count.
She never thought she would be so thankful for his disdain. She believed he would leave her alone and she could sink deeper into her abyss, which is what she craved to do. John noticed of course but he was easily put off. She would plaster a fake smile on her face and John, being a gentleman, although he knew better, would accept her words that she was fine.
She knew that if Sherlock had cared about her wellbeing at all and had noticed the change in her, she would never have had the courage to leave. She knew if he looked for her, it would not take him long to find her and she would be forced to move again.
She did not want to keep running. She only wanted to run once to begin her new life. She did not think she would have the strength to have to run again. So it was better this way, that he cared nothing for her. She was thankful for her invisibility, her ability to never matter. It made this so much easier. She actually smiled as she took one last look at St. Bart's.
Mike Stamford came into work an hour early. He had expected to find Molly already there. She usually came in early in the mornings to work on her paper work. It seemed to be the only Sherlock free time she would have. Mike shrugged and made his way to his office when he did not find her in the lab. After he had put down his coat and briefcase, turned on his computer, and said good morning to his pet fish, Norman, he was off to the break room for his morning coffee.
Mike poured his coffee and put a left over scone on a paper plate before turning and walking back down the hall to his office. He could not stop the uneasiness that he felt as he passed the lab again. It was Monday morning. Molly was always here on Monday morning at 6 am. She had been for the past five years. Perhaps he had a message saying she was going to be late. He quickened his pace back to his office. Upon reaching his office, he sat the coffee down and picked up the receiver to his phone, keying in his code that would give him his messages. There was nothing waiting for him.
Mike's brow creased in concern. He wouldn't have been bothered if Molly had not been such a creature of habit. He had also become more protective of her when he had found out who Jim from IT had actually been. And that Molly had been completely alone with this man on at least three occasions that he knew of.
Mike spun around in his chair and stood, his feet taking him as quickly as they would to the morgue. Yes, she was probably at the morgue. For whatever reason she had decided to do her paper work there, or perhaps, Sherlock was already there and she hadn't had a chance to come to the lab.
Mike pushed the doors to the morgue open more forcefully than he meant to and cringed when they slammed into the wall. The morgue was pitch black…empty…Molly was not there. Mike shook his head when he made up his mind. He turned and rushed back to his office, cursing himself for leaving his phone in his jacket pocket instead of his trousers pocket.
John Watson groaned when he heard his mobile vibrate and chirp. "No!" He complained and rolled back over in his bed, pulling the quilt over his head. The mobile vibrated and chirped again. It continued to do so for the next ten minutes until John growled his annoyance, flung the quilt off him, and snatched his mobile up. "Damnit, Sherlock! I was up until 3 am, but of course you already knew that seeing that I was in your company, but really…."
"John, this is Mike, Mike Stamford."
John groaned again, wiped his eyes, and sighed. "Yes Mike? How can I help you?" John asked while all the time thinking, do you not know what bloody time it is you git?
"Sorry about the early call, but I was wondering, do you know where Molly is?"
John blinked and stared at his mobile. Why the bloody hell would I know where, Molly is? Oh right…she's friends with Sarah.
"Um, no, I'm afraid I don't. I can ask Sarah if you'd like when I see her…"
Mike cut him off, "Well you see, it's just Molly isn't here now and she's always been here at 6 am for the last five years. This is when she does her paper work. The morgue is empty and I just think it's rather odd…I'm probably worrying for nothing, but…with Jim…and Sherlock…" His voice trailed off.
John swallowed hard, a sick feeling beginning to form in this pit of his stomach. John had known for some time that something was slightly off with Molly.
"Mike, let me call Sarah and I'll call you back. I'm sure it's just been some misunderstanding. Have you tried calling the hotel she was staying at for her holiday?"
"She never told me where she was going, John. I wouldn't have any idea how to find her."
John's concern grew. That's not like Molly. She was always very considerate and wouldn't intentionally worry her friends. And she knew that they would worry if they didn't know where she was. John climbed out of bed, "Look Mike, I'll call Sarah now and pop by Molly's. I'll call you when I talk to her, yeah?"
It had taken John about ten minutes to get dressed and rush out the door into the crisp morning air. He walked quickly and purposely down Baker Street, trying to hail a cab. Finally, one pulled over for him and he made his way to Molly's flat.
John was lucky to catch an elderly woman coming out of the building, so he didn't have to worry about waiting for someone to buzz him in. John forgo the elevator and took the stairwell, two stairs at a time until reaching the third floor. He walked down the corridor that would take him to Molly's flat. He noticed immediately that the door was slightly ajar.
He cursed himself for not bringing his revolver because now, his mind was forming the worst possible scenarios. He put his hand on the door, slowly pushing it open and stepped inside. Nothing looked out of place as he stepped cautiously into the living room.
"Ah John." A deep voice said behind him. "So glad you're already here, saves me the trouble of trying to call you and drag you out of bed."
John whirled around. "Sherlock, what in the bloody hell are you doing here?"
"I should think it was obvious, my dear dense little friend." Sherlock walked past John, handing him a piece of paper as he passed. "She's gone, John."
"Gone? Gone where?" John asked.
Sherlock plopped down on Molly's couch, making himself quite comfortable while John read the paper he had handed him.
"My God…"John said softly. "Why on Earth would she keep this to herself? I cannot imagine the grief…how horrible."
Sherlock didn't answer for a moment. "She's been planning this for a while John. I had hoped that she would let something slip at my pretense of indifference, but she's grown quite clever."
Sherlock threw his hands up in the air dramatically. "Silly, silly, woman. Did she honestly think she could run away and hide from me?"
"Perhaps this has nothing to do with you Sherlock." John said irritated at Sherlock's presumption. "I'd say she has quite a bit more on her mind than you."
"But she's run away, John. She's left everything, "Sherlock said opening his hands wide and waving them towards the room as if to make his point. "She's worked very hard to keep this from me."
"How would you know what's going on in her mind? You never pay her any attention. You never have. She might as well disappear into the wall, as far as you're concerned."
Sherlock glared at him. "I observe more than you think I do, John. I have observed the change from the beginning. She is under the mistaken impression that I noticed nothing, so she let her guard down. I had hoped it would be enough to let something useful slip, but as I said, she's become quite clever."
"Do you have any idea where she is?"
Sherlock looked offended. "Of course I do! I've been having her followed for over a month now. Even Mycroft has been somewhat useful."
"Mycroft!" John said incredulously.
"Do close your mouth John. I've had to tell you about it before." Sherlock stood. "As I was saying, yes, Mycroft has been useful by upgrading her security status to a five."
"I thought status three was the highest."
"Obviously it's not, John, don't be so dull."
Sherlock turned and pushed past John. John stood there staring after him trying to let this entire situation sink in.
"Are you coming?" Sherlock yelled from the hall.
"Where are we going?"
He could hear Sherlock groan in annoyance from the hallway. "To bring our pathologist back where she belongs."
John followed him after him into the hall. "Sherlock, wait. What if she needs this time away? Maybe we should just make sure she is alright and leave her be for now."
"Don't be ridiculous, John!"
And with that, Sherlock turned and continued down the hall, his coat billowing out behind him. John sighed deeply and followed after him.