How They Met Alice (BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 82

(Sherlock’s POV, BART’S)

 

Molly came out of a small side room in the lab, switched off the lights and walked across the darkened lab, sighing tiredly. As she reached the door to the corridor, I was standing in the darkness behind her with my face turned away from her. She didn’t see me and reached for the door handle.

“You’re wrong, you know,” I said clearly. She gasped and jumped, spinning around towards me. “You do count. You’ve always counted and I’ve always trusted you,” I continued. I turned my head towards her. “But you were right. I’m not okay,” I said flatly.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” She said immediately.

“Molly, I think I’m going to die,” I said sadly, slowly walking towards her.

“What do you need?” She asked.

“If I wasn’t everything that you think I am – everything that I think I am – would you still want to help me?” I questioned, still slowly approaching her. She gazed up at me as I stopped close to her.

“What do you need?” She repeated.  I stepped even closer, my expression hopefully conveying the intensity of the situation and my need.

“You.”

(THE DIOGENES CLUB, Alice’s POV: )

Mycroft came in the room that John and I were in, reaching for the door handle to close it the door, but he stopped as he realized that John was sitting in one of the armchairs with his back to him, and I was sitting on the arm. We were both looking through Kitty’s file.

“She has really done her homework, Miss Riley – things that only someone close to Sherlock could know,” John said, hinting at the obvious.

“Ah,” Mycroft sighed, closing the door behind him.

“Have you seen Sherlock’s address book lately? Three names: yours, John’s and mine, and Moriarty didn’t get this stuff from me or John,” I said sadly. I was sad because I had been friends with Mycroft, and I trusted him more or less. Mycroft walked across the room to face us.

“John...” He began, almost reluctantly.

“So how does it work, then, your relationship? D’you go out for a coffee now and then, eh, you and Jim?” John asked snarkily. Mycroft sat down in the chair opposite and opened his mouth but I interrupted.

“Your own brother, and you blabbed about his entire life to this maniac,” I snapped, my voice was full of controlled anger.

“I never inten... I never dreamt...” He attempted to speak again.

“So this... th-th-this...” John interrupted once again. He looked through the papers again “...is what you were trying to tell me, isn’t it: ‘Watch his back, ’cause I’ve made a mistake.’” He asked. He slapped the papers down on the table beside his chair and sat back, clearing his throat as he tried to stay calm.