The Woman Who Counted (A Sherlolly Tale)

Chapter 2

Author's Note from 2017: This has been edited since it's 2013 release! I am working on the other chapters as well, so if some seem to be written worse than others than it is likely because it was written long ago. xxx -OH

 She furrowed her brows, watching as he stepped toward her. Closer and closer. She felt her breaths expanding her lungs and aside from this man stepping closer to her, all she could think about was her breathing. In and out. In and out.

"I-I don't understand. Sherlock, what do you need?"

He stopping stepping forward, stand only a couple feet from her. "Your help, Molly. I need you to help me."

She bit her lip, setting her bag down. "You've got to be more specific than that."

"Moriarty is convincing people I'm a fraud. He's shaming me and putting me at risk of being arrested and charged with the kidnapping."

"Well, what do you need to do?"

"Molly, I have to kill myself."

The tensity in the room was tangible, filling the air around the two. Molly felt as if she would choke on it if she took too deep of a breath. Her eyes began burning, but she couldn't tell if it was because her eyes had widened into saucers or if it was the tears beginning to form. "What?"

"Not ... literally." Sherlock furrowed his brows and Molly could tell that he was searching for the right words. "I have to fake my death Molly and I need your help with it."

"How could I be of any help?" she asked, almost in a whisper. "I'd only get in your way."

"No." His voice demanded she look back up at him. And she did. "Molly, are you willing to take a risk?"

"What do you need?"

"Risk your career, your friends, your life?"

She repeated her question.

"Death record. My death record. I need you to fake my records."

Her eyes went wide, her lips pressing together. "I'll do it, Sherlock," she stepped forward. "I'll do anything you need, but first tell me why. Please."

He wet his lips as he thought of how to explain the situation. "I have reason to believe that there is a corpse in the morgue who looks similar to me. Am I correct?"

Molly let out a breath, thinking back on an earlier autopsy. A man with dark locks similar to the detectives had indeed been on her slab. She supposed that from a distance it would be easy to confuse the two. "A John Doe. I laid him out."

"If Moriarty is planning what I think he may be, then you are going to receive a text from me. You and Mycroft will be the only ones to get it and you must delete it as soon as you can. I need you to roll out the John Doe and at my text push him out the window. Can you do that?"

Molly's head throbbed and her stomach was doing somersaults. She couldn't figure out if this was real, if it was happening. Such a request seemed absolutely ridiculous. She closed her eyes, counted to three, and then nodded her head. "Yes. Sherlock. Yes I will help you."

"Thank you, Molly." He leaned down a pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. She struggled to not lean into it. "Now, I must go. See you in the morgue." Eyes stinging, she closed them once again as she nodded, hearing his steps fading.

The John Doe was rolled out in the next couple of minutes and Molly impatiently waited by the window, door locked so no one saw what was happening. She peered out onto the street, watching the passerbyers when she felt two buzzes in her pocket that nearly stopped her heart.

Lazarus.

Lazarus is go. Dr Hooper?

Molly bit her lip, knowing she needed to respond. John Doe is ready. At your say.

A couple of minutes pass by, Molly nearly having chewed through her lip when the final text arrived.

Now.