Consulting Pineapples (Psychlock)

Chapter Sixteen--The Pattern

Shawn held Jules’s hand tightly as they walked through London, as if letting go would mean her disappearing again.

    Sherlock barely tried to hide how much he completely despised acting as a tour guide and gestured vaguely at the shops lining the sidewalk. “What kind of food?”

    “Hmmm...Jules? Anything specifically?” Shawn shot a sideways look at Sherlock. “I’d suggest choosing quickly.”

    “Anything is fine.” She sighed and said without turning around, “Sherlock, just go check on

her.”

    Sherlock relaxed and nodded at Jules. “Don’t get lost.” He was out at the curb and into a cab before she could respond.

    She opened her mouth and then closed it before turning back to Shawn. “They make a cute couple, don’t they.”

    “Yeah. Almost as cute as us,” he said, smiling slightly.

    She raised an eyebrow and then laughed. “Food?”

    It was his turn to agree. “Food.”

The cab drove much too slowly, in Sherlock’s opinion, but when he checked his phone, the ride had only been two minutes. Why was he so nervous? He was a sociopath, since when did he worry about things like this?

    His attempts to calm himself down failed, and he was almost running up to Molly’s hospital room before the cab even came to a complete stop.

    She was still unconscious. Perfectly normal, Sherlock tried to tell himself. She had lost a lot of blood.

    He sat quietly in a chair next to her, not completely sure if he was supposed to do anything. John would be better at this, he realised, a bit uncertain of why he was even there.

    Right, that Lili character had mentioned Molly and he wanted to see if she had been harmed again. Molly was pretty helpless, being unconscious and alone in a hospital.

    After about half an hour of waiting, thinking, and kind-of-staring at Molly, he decided that he might as well go and come back later. A little awkwardly, he stood and kissed her forehead, quickly striding towards the door.

    “How long have you been here?” asked a quiet voice from behind him.

    Sherlock quickly stopped and turned. “Five minutes, maybe.”

    Molly smiled faintly and struggled to sit up. “Thanks for coming.”

    “Of course.” Sherlock sat down next to her again. “Thanks for being alive.”

    She reached and took his hand, nodding a bit sarcastically. “Oh, it’s no problem, really.”

    Sherlock leaned back in his seat, rubbing his eye with his free hand. “Did I say that wrong?”

    Molly laughed softly, shrugging and then wincing. “How long have you really been here?”

    “I am deeply offended that you don’t believe me.” The consulting detective shook his head disdainfully.

    Molly laughed. “Your eyebrow twitches when you lie,” she explained, lying back down.

    Sherlock’s hand flew to his eyebrow. “Does it? I think you’ve been spending a bit too much time with me, Miss Hooper. Though you are right. I’ve been here about half an hour.”

    She nodded and looked around. “Why are you even here? I mean--sorry. You just don’t seem like a hospital person.”

    Sherlock tried to look offended and then shrugged. “I’m not completely sure. Just to make sure someone didn’t poison your IV or something.”