I started to post this the other day but tumblr wouldn’t let me copy and past. Speaking of which, I’m not even putting the link to the fanfiction version of this story. I got bitch slapped by a ‘reader’ about using the song lyrics and have since removed them. I get it, it’s a no-no, but really? Does Keane actually care? (you can’t see my but I’m in a constant state of eye roll)
Anyhoo, this is for @mrsmcrieff and was beta’d by @mizjoely .
Don't wanna be first in line~
She stood in the doorway, arms folded, observing the man whom she thought was her friend, her dear friend even, as he shivered on the filthy bed.
Sherlock Holmes: the love of my life, she thought. I think he's pissed himself.
He was facing away from her, but he knew she was there, she was sure of it. How long would he allow this to go on; her watching, him ignoring her? She didn't know and she also didn't care.
"It's infected. I can smell it from here," she said, moving away from the door, further into the room.
"That's the room." His voice came out in a hoarse whisper. "This is no place for a lady, Molly, you should go."
"After I've come all this way? I think not." She had made it to the bed. Reaching down, she pulled away the dingy blanket. The smell was almost overwhelming. "Jesus, Sherlock. What have you done?"
"It's not as bad as it looks."
"Your calf is in shreds and oozing puss… you're filthy!"
"I've had a rough time of it, Molly. I might could use a paracetamol and a plaster if you happen to have them on you."
"I have a full med kit, thank you very much. But I'll not do anything until we leave this hole and get you clean," she said, picking up some of his clothes (not everything, mind, the bloody, half shredded trousers she was happy to leave for the cleaning staff) and shoving them into the black duffle bag she'd found on the floor.
"And where are we going?" he asked, rolling onto his back with a grunt. "Not England. I'm not leaving yet. It's not solved…"
She straightened and said, "Of course not, Sherlock. I'm here, aren't I? I'll fix you up so that you can get back to the business of slowly killing yourself. It'll be grand."
I'd like to bring a little light~
It hadn't been easy but with the help of Mycroft's two goons, they had managed. They were now in a four-star hotel suite. Sherlock was on the toilet ("Can't a man take a shit in peace?" he had yelled loud enough for her to hear), that's where the goons had taken him whilst Molly set up her makeshift triage in the lounge. He should be in hospital, of course, but he'd never go. She was shocked to her core that he hadn't thrown her out. Well, perhaps that was because he was physically unable, but nevertheless…
The argument they'd had earlier about her need for his piss was still ringing in her head. He kept switching between angry and jovial. When goon #2 had brought her the urine sample, she'd immediately started testing. I'm sure he enjoyed weeing in front of a pair of government agents, she thought with a smile. If she hadn't seen the evidence of the drugs test with her own eyes, she would have sworn that he had been using, but illness could make a person (especially a person like Sherlock) just as erratic. Especially if... She was quite worried about what the second test had revealed. Infection.
But where was the question? Was it localised to the wound or something much worse? He was fevered and weak. The wound looked awful but she was afraid that the infection had spread to his blood.
Having finished with her supplies, Molly walked into the bedroom, her goal was to pass through and knock on the bathroom door to check on Sherlock. However, she found him, panting, and gripping the bedpost, a towel loosely wrapped around his narrow hips.
"Sherlock!" she shrieked as she lunged for him. The stubborn bastard was supposed to call her before trying to get up from the damn loo!
"I'm fine, Molly. Just taking a little break. I think I'll make camp here and start for the summit in the morning," he said, gasping between every other word.
"You're an idiot!" She pulled his arm around her shoulder and put her own arm around his waist.
"For a genius, you do some pretty idiotic things." They inched forwards. "Is this okay? Can you make it to the lounge or should I bring my things in here?"
He looked down and smirked. "Always trying to get me into bed, aren't you, Molly?"
"Make up your mind. Am I an idiot or an arse?"
"I set you up nicely for that one."
You can read the full (and proper) version here on AO3. Enjoy. ~Lil~
