Pretend it's Cluedo

Two become three. Three become four.

Molly sighed; it had been a long day: only one body, no Sherlock to entertain, no Lestrade to talk to, no Anderson to annoy. the day was drawing to a close when a familiar cloaked pair swept into the labs, stoping in the doorway without their usual sense of mystery; it was most strange.

"Molly." It was John that spoke, this surprised Molly, Sherlock usually took control around her.
"Afternoon, John, Sherlock. What can I do for you?" Molly asked, without looking too far up from the petri diet she was studying.
"Molly." This time it was Sherlock, but not the cocky, normal Sherlock. This was an altogether quieter, sadder Sherlock. It was strange.
"Sherlock?" John questioned, obviously knowing something was wrong.
"Molly, death records for two Holmes." Sherlock said quite sharply, startling both Molly and John with his sudden change in demeanour, from sadness to a distinct lack of emotion.
"Sherlock," Molly paused, petri dish in hand, "are your parents okay?"
"No, not really." Sherlock replied, stepping away from the doorway he and John had been stood, to lean on a work surface. "John?"
"They died last night." John explained, taking the hint, not sure whether if Sherlock said it he would have no emotion or too much.
"I need to know how, Mycroft had nothing to say on the matter." Sherlock said, trying to find somewhere to rest his glazed over gaze, moving over Molly and resting his stare on John.
"Official cause?" Molly asked, typing.
"Uh huh."
"Your mother passed away at 1700 hours from a heart attack, your father 1900 hours from a stroke."
"Coincidence?" Asked John already knowing the answer.
"The universe is rarely so lazy."

There was then a silence. John knew that Mycroft must be involved somehow, but was an investigation really best for Sherlock? The simple answer was no, and Sherlock knew it too. He was a strong man in so many ways, but he was sensitive, though he seldom admitted it. Friends are what he needed, friends protect everyone.

"I'm calling Lestrade, then HR. I'm taking the week off."
"Molly?" It was John.
"I'm coming to help you clear out the house, and probably organise a funeral, I suspect-"
"How did you-" John was getting sick of the intelligence of his friends.
"You're carrying bags," Molly interrupted, unlike her - she was rushing -, "you don't carry bags, ergo must be luggage. Even I can make the deduction, given the circumstances, that you're going to clear there house, hence the lack of Mycroft also."
"Hmm..." Sherlock paused, the pause turned into silence.

Molly took this as her queue and stepped out into the corridor to phone Lestrade, shutting the door behind her.

"Greg?"
"Molly?"
"Hey."
"Hi, what's the matter?"
"Must something be the matter for me to ring you?"
"You never ring me just to say hi. What's the matter?"
"Sherlock, his parents died, yesterday evening. I'm taking the week off to help him and John clear the house."
"You want me to come? I'm taking silence as a yes. Even if it's s no you three aren't going alone. Besides you haven't got a car between you."
"Thank you Greg."
"You didn't ask me to, so don't thank Molly, don't be so eager to please." Silence. "Is Sherlock dealing with it well?"
"As well as he deals with anything," she paused and looked towards the duo in the lab, "pack your bags and meet us in Barts in an hour, I'll get John to book an hotel, and we should be there in time for breakfast."
"I'll ring HR, get us both time off, okay?"
"Okay, see you in an hour."
"Yeah, bye."
"Bye." She hung up and walked back into the well endured silence of the lab.

John acknowledged her presence; Sherlock continued to stare at John.
"Greg's coming." Molly announced.
"Who?"
"Lestrade, Sherlock, Lestrade."

Arrangements were made, rooms booked, bags packed, and silence was broken in the lab.

"Sherlock." Molly had left almost fifteen minutes ago, and John had no where to put his sympathy, so it was dripping off Sherlock's name, like jam from his toast.
"I'm fine, John." Sherlock replied, his eyes had not left John's face.
"It's okay if you're not, Sherlock." John took a step towards his friend, though he could see no expression of feelings on Sherlock's face, John knew he was hurting, but Sherlock wouldn't say or show it, he never did - he was too human for that. Sherlock always said he was a machine because he locked up his feelings, but he locked them up to avoid hurting himself and others, and John knew that was humanity at its pure, even if no one else did. Self sacrifice, for both himself and others, was humanity, stupidity too, but human nature was flawed, though Sherlock seldom admitted these flaws applied to him also. But John saw the flaws and he still loved Sherlock, Sherlock didn't see anyone's love or kindness though, only his own flaws. He was human, and John knew this would make this journey so much harder on Sherlock, but he had Molly, Lestrade and him, John knew if Sherlock was going to make it through this he had the right people around him.

And with that the foursome reunited in Barts to set off to their fate.