For John Watson

[howdull]

[Sherlock is still finding pieces of the melted laptop in the carpet.

It had actually been quite an ingenious booby trap to be devised by a fourteen year old boy with only household chemicals to work with but, as Sherlock surmised, rather overkill to keep his mother from finding his extensive porn collection. Not one of their more illustrious cases, but it had been quite entertaining to watch both the boy and mother's faces as he revealed that he did know the how and why. He lost interest after the mother started shouting and John started shouting and the whole thing turned tedious.

He rather thinks John won't actually be doing a full write-up of this one on his blog.

It's been two days since their last case and he's beginning to get more than a little antsy. Lestrade has sent him nothing, just a boring hit and run that he refused to even leave the flat for, and nobody interesting has appeared through the blog. Said blog he is currently scrolling through on John's laptop, having borrowed it again.

He did ask, it's not his fault John hadn't been in the room at the time.]

Bored, John.

[He doesn't even know if his flatmate is even in, but that's hardly a necessity for him to actually speak to John. Frustrated, he throws the laptop across the room to hit the wall, where it summarily breaks. Which is where he can be found whenever John appears, sulking amidst pieces of laptop, both from the melted one of their last case and John's poor broken one.]

Comments

[howdull]

You...

[She sounds as if he's just punched her in the stomach, because that's honestly what she feels like. He's breaking up with her because she's worried about him? It's a good job that he's not in front of her, or he might have a black eye to add to the rest of his problems.]

...fine. You know what? Fine. If you ever decide you want to talk to me like a goddamn grown man, give me a call.

[She tries to breathe out calmly.]

You're due in at the clinic next Wednesday, we can discuss things then. Goodbye, John.

[jumpthegun]

[John closes his eyes for a moment.]

Goodbye, Sarah. Be safe.

[He hangs up, feeling like a complete and utter asshole. There's another bridge burned... although she does seem to be offering the chance to rebuild it. But if he cuts people out of his life before the Alphabet Woman can get to them, that will be better. That will be safer. D is for Doctor? G is for Girlfriend? Sarah's at least moved down the priority list. Hopefully.

While he's waiting for Molly, he does send one other text.]

TO: Lestrade: Something came up. Couldn't stay. I'm sorry, detective. I promise I'll meet with you this afternoon at the station.

[howdull]

[Just as Molly is pulling up, a short but colourful reply comes in from Lestrade.]

FROM: Lestrade: You arsehole.

[The car that Molly pulls up in is a Smart Car, shiny and red, with a pair of fuzzy skulls hanging from the rear view mirror.]

Um, do you know you're not wearing shoes?

[jumpthegun]

[It's an adorable car, and John gets in quickly. The effects of the morphine are starting to fade once more, but he's got a bit of time to be moving around still.]

Yeah, I, uh... borrowed these clothes. No shoes available.

[He rolls down his window as an afterthought and tosses his phone out. He'll deal with the repercussions of that later. He doesn't want something bugged on him, though.]

Thanks for coming out here. [John clears his throat.] Dunno if you've heard about what happened, but someone blew up our flat the day before yesterday. And kidnapped Sherlock.

[Just getting that out there. He'll leave off murdering his sister for now. Molly's more likely to be sympathetic to Sherlock's plight than his own.]

[howdull]

[Molly sets off as soon as John's in the car, giving him a weird look when he throws the phone out but not commenting until his devastating news. The brakes slam on hard enough for her to nearly get rear ended, the driver behind blaring his horn.]

Oh-- OH!

[She doesn't even care, turning to look at John with worry painted all over her face.]

When was he kidnapped? Do you know who it was? Have they asked for a ransom? Is this to do with his creepy big brother?

[jumpthegun]

[John slams against the safety belt and just about screams, his face blanching, and his eyes going wide.]

Broken ribs.

[It's gasped. The lingering effects of morphine weren't prepared to deal with that.]

C-Christ, Molly. Drive. Please drive. And lock the doors.

[His own hand fumbles for the door lock on the passenger side. He'll wait for her to start driving again or stare at him long enough to get his breathing under control and fight down the pain of that jolt.]

He was kidnapped two days ago around 6 PM, probably. I know who it was. We're looking for her. And there's no ransom. It's not about his brother. I'm being targeted by someone and Sherlock got caught in the cross-hairs. He sent... mm. Bloody hell, that hurt. He sent me a text with some details. We're looking for someplace along the Victoria Line, carpeting older than 15 years. Might be located near a place called Blink and Ink. I think it might be the woman works... or somewhere she might have gone before. They might have info on her.

[howdull]

Sorry! Sorry, I didn't know.

[She winces in sympathy but does set off again, mentally berating herself. She's always like this, it's no wonder that she hasn't got many friends. No wonder that she's a little bit in love with a man who barely even notices her.

She jams the gear stick into third gear as she picks up speed, worry taking over again.]

Two days and nobody's found him yet? That's-- they could be really hurting him. What did you do to someone to get Sherlock kidnapped?

[Because she will kick him out of this car.]

[jumpthegun]

[John bites down on another little groan of pain as she accelerates and his back hits the seat. He's going to ask her for a morphine drip when they get to the morgue.]

I honestly have no idea. I think the woman doing this is the wife of one of the men I served with in Afghanistan. I met her just a little bit after she kidnapped Sherlock, but I didn't recognize her. She said I ruined her life, though, so she's ruining mine. I was a Captain, so it's probably that I ordered her husband into battle or didn't save him in the middle of a firefight.

[howdull]

[She nods, not his fault then, but she will not cry if this woman ends up on her mortuary slab needing to be cut up, that's for sure.]

Alright, so-- how can I help? Why me? Why not Detective Inspector Lestrade?

[jumpthegun]

Because... [D.I. Lestrade will put me back in hospital and chain me to the bed this time if I go to him.] Molly, Sherlock trusts you. You know the way he thinks better than most people. You've worked with him for much longer than I have. You know him. I have two clues to work with, and I'm not nearly as clever as he is. But between the two of us, I think we might be able to get it.

The Alphabet Woman also won't be targeting you. We're not friends or lovers. It means she probably won't be coming for you. She doesn't know how important you are to Sherlock or to me right now.

[howdull]

[Molly catches her lower lip with her teeth and worries it for a moment, keeping her eyes fixed on the road. He's lying to her. Nobody can know the way Sherlock thinks, and she certain doesn't know him.

She forces a slightly strained smile.]

Right, that makes sense. We're not-- not friends.

[Of course they're not, but it still stings. That's why she's been chosen, because she's the most insignificant.]

Tell me more about the two clues.

[jumpthegun]

Victoria Line, overground, a building with carpet that's at least 15 years old. Sherlock sent that to me in Morse Code. The other piece is Blink and Ink. The Alphabet woman had a fake card she made printed out with Sergeant Donovan's name. She used it to get hold of my clothes when I was in hospital the other day. Sherlock and I figured out that the card stock was from a place called Blink and Ink.

[howdull]

Okay, well-- there's a lot of stations that are overground on the Victoria line, and it's London, 15 years isn't that long.

[Needle in a haystack much, thanks Sherlock.]

But Blink and Ink, maybe we can head there and try and look her up? Uh, secretively, and then we can find her address from there?

[jumpthegun]

Mmhmm. Yeah. Have you... ever heard of them? I was going to use your computer to find the address. Um... what size shoe d'you wear, though, and d'you have any... uh... masculine-looking shoes I could borrow? I'll probably look like an escaped mental patient if I go wandering 'round London without any shoes in... this.

[She'd remarked. Other people will, as well. And while it's a decent distraction, he's going to try to pretend to be the police. That's much less effective barefoot in a tracksuit and T-shirt.

[howdull]

No, but you can look it up on my phone.

[She fumbles into her pocket for a moment and hands it over.]

We'll stop by a Marks and Spencer on the way, I've got-- if it's to help Sherlock then I guess maybe-- I'll buy you some clothes. Better ones. Not that you don't look fine in tracksuit bottoms.

[jumpthegun]

I'll pay you back.

[It's immediate as John feels a blush of shame touch his cheeks. It's money again. It's always money. He can't panic about that right now, though.]

After all of this, I'll find a way to pay you back.

[But he does take her phone and searches for Blink and Ink to see what their address is.]

[howdull]

[Blink and Ink are a leading graphic design and business solutions company, or so their website says, and they're based in Soho. A telephone number and address are both listed.]

You can pay me back by getting Sherlock back.

[She sounds almost fierce as she swings around a corner and into the car park of a shopping centre that boasts a Marks and Spencer. She fumbles her seatbelt off and grabs her bag.]

No offence, but you might be better staying here, people might notice someone walking about without shoes. What, um, what size are you in everything? Do you need-- um, I mean-- do you even need some pants?

[jumpthegun]

[Christ, this is embarrassing. It's one thing when it's a requisitions officer on-base. It's another when it's a woman he hardly knows outside of work and doesn't even fancy.]

Yeah. I need, uh... everything.

[He's very grateful she's not the sort to ask why he's in nothing but these clothes. Does she suspect he broke out of the hospital? Who can say. John gives her some sizing information. It's all on the smaller side, as might be expected for someone his size. At the very least, Molly's not going to have to go scrounging for any larger sizes.

John mentally resolves to pay her back with more than just Sherlock's return. Maybe he'll take her out to dinner and force Sherlock to come along. He thinks Molly might like that.

John is going to be careful to lock the doors once Molly heads off, and slides lower down in his seat, trying to look inconspicuous.]

[howdull]

[She's gone for as little time as she can, not really being discerning with style. She just grabs some plain jeans, a pack of underwear, a pack of socks, a checked button up shirt in red, some trainers, and a plain brown leather jacket. It's actually all pretty good quality stuff, and the bill comes to more than she thought it might, but never mind.

John might see her dash out of Marks and Spencer and into first the Boots and then the T-Mobile shop soon after, before finally making it back to the car with bulging carrier bags and a sudden bright smile.]

It's kind of fun being a detective, isn't it? I got you clothes and shoes, that's this bag, and a cheap mobile with a pay-as-you-go SIM, I put ten pounds on it. And I got some burn salve and painkillers.

[She's medically trained, though she chose to work with corpses, she's not an idiot.]

[jumpthegun]

[John's eyes widen at the sight of the bags and there's a wrench in his heart.]

Molly, you are a better person than... than anyone deserves.

[His tone and expression are entirely earnest as he sits up and says this, feeling a little lost for the amount of gratitude he feels toward the woman in this moment.]

Um... we can stop off at some public toilets and I can change, and then head over to Blink and Ink? You... I really don't know how...

[Why has Sherlock not jumped on this woman and married her? She's amazing.]

You're amazing.

[howdull]

[That just makes her smile pull higher and a slight flush of colour come to her cheeks. It's nice to be appreciated, even just occasionally.]

Yeah, there's some near the entrance to Chinatown, that's not too far from Soho. We can, um, we can go in the disabled stall together and I can help dress your burns and then leave you to it.

[She knows he's a doctor and therefore capable, but even a doctor can't dress wounds on his own back, the human body just doesn't bend that way.]

I bought sticky gauze and breathable cotton pads, so we can get those on after the cream.

[She finally slides into the car and awkwardly pushes the bags down into the footwell by John's bare feet, since her Smart Car doesn't have any back seats.]

[jumpthegun]

[John shifts his legs to give her an easier time of it. And then they're off with him wondering-]

Molly, I appreciate all of this, I really do, but you have work, don't you? D'you need to call in?

[Molly has a real job, not like John with his rotations at the clinic and his 'work' with Sherlock. She can't just make her own schedule. He'd sort of been expecting to go back to Bart's, not tour around London with the woman.]

[howdull]

Don't you have work too?

[She fixes him with a look that has slightly more steel beneath it than her usual diffident personality might suggest.]

Sherlock has been kidnapped, are you going into work? Besides, I'm the most qualified mortician they have and I've never taken a sick day, what are they going to do, fire me? I'd like to see them try.

[jumpthegun]

[John's brows shoot up. That's a little more fire and self-confidence than he was expecting from Molly Hooper. He wonders if he should tell her he's more self-employed than actually employed, and decides against it.]

Right. Okay.

[And that's about all there is to say about that.

When they pull up near the public toilets near Chinatown, John drags himself out of the car, still feeling that jolt from the belt and gathers up the bags. He probably doesn't need to do the one with the phone, but paranoia about it getting stolen while they're away is too intense. Actually, he's a little worried leaving Molly's car unattended for the same reason. If the Alphabet woman is still somehow tracking his movements, she could plant a bomb on the thing or cut the breaks or...

John gives himself a mental shake. She's good, but she's not magic, and she's certainly not Mycroft or Sherlock Holmes. He still takes the phone and heads for the disabled stall. Letting Molly see his injuries isn't ideal, but he also expects she's not going to comment too much on it.]

[howdull]

[Molly is far from an idiot when it comes to the medical field, for all that her usual clientele are corpses, and she can tell at a glance that he's not meant to be out of the hospital. Well, she had figured that out anyway, what with the lack of shoes and calling her rather than Lestrade.

But she doesn't comment.

She understands. She couldn't just sit idly by if someone she cares about is kidnapped, just like she refuses to go back to work now, so she's not going to chastise John. She just carefully rubs the burn salve over his back, trying not to cause him too much pain, and then applies both the breathable cotton pads, then the sticky back gauze, until his entire back is sterile and covered.]

Um.

[Her fire has sort of deserted her now, and she's more embarrassed at being with a half naked live man than anything.]

I'll, uh-- I'll wait outside and let you get dressed, okay?