Reconciliation — Chapter 2: A new start

When Sherlock left London, John and his identity behind, so did Molly. But destiny can be cruel at times, throwing things from your past at you when you'd rather make a fresh start. Eventual Sherlolly, Post Reichenbach. Please read and review!

She stepped into the City hospital, the place that would be her workplace for the next couple of years. Mycroft had reluctantly agreed to let her work as a doctor, but not as a pathologist. It helped immensely that she had bothered to pursue a diploma in psychiatry along with her pathology post graduation. And hence, Eleanor Patrick was a psychiatrist, fresh out of medical school. Her education had been stalled for a couple of years when she had left her course midway to take care of her ailing Grandma, who was her only living relative. She had subsequently resumed her studies when her Grandma had passed away after making her promise that she would pursue her career further. The bunch of lies rolled off Molly's tongue smoothly and in her opinion, fairly convincingly. Indeed, nobody had given any indication of being suspicious. Her application for a job had been accepted almost immediately, thanks to her extraordinary CV which showed that she had published her first paper on acute mania at a mere 18 years of age. The head of the department of psychiatry, an kind elderly man called was more than pleased to have her in his department. She was to start the very next day. Thus, she went back to her room, in the staff quarters, at 8 in the evening, tired and starving. The room was huge as compared to her London home and it made her feel even more alone. She spent the next few hours unpacking her stuff and making the new place her home. When she was done, she stepped into the bathroom and took a real look at her tired face for the first time. She hadn't slept in the past two days due to which she had purple rings under her eyes. She looked so unfamiliar even to her own eyes that it freaked her out. In a way, she thought, she looked like Sherlock himself. His scarf was still around her neck, her eyes were precisely the same shade as his and her wavy black hair framed her face in a way that made her look almost skinny with her cheekbones jutting out. A splash of cold water on her face made her feel a lot better but her eyelids drooped due to lack of sleep and she felt a sudden wave of fatigue course through her petite frame. Finally she fell asleep on the couch itself, too tired to even take off her shoes. The shrill sound of the alarm clock woke her up at seven in the morning and she got out of bed reluctantly. Half an hour later she was in her new consulting room, feeling strangely happy the way things were going. knocked at her door just then. 'Good morning . I trust you are happy with your new office?' he said, smiling at her in a way that suddenly reminded her of her dad. 'Yes Sir, thank you very much' she said returning his smile. 'I'd be pleased to show you around the wards right now if you don't mind' he asked. 'Oh yes. That'd be great' she replied, wondering if everyone was usually this polite and formal in Ireland. They took a quick detour of the hospital with acting as the guide, pointing out places that she would frequent later like the cafeteria and the library. Finally, they reached the psychiatric wards. 'Every patient in this department needs individual attention as I'm sure you understand . Right now, we have very few patients here so you'll be having just one indoor patient to look after in addition to the out patient department since your fellow doctors are taking care of the few others' he said pointing towards room no.24 where her patient was currently living. 'Yes Sir. Can I take a look at the history of the patient? Or perhaps meet them?' she asked, excited at the prospect of finally interacting with live patients after so many years. 'In a few minutes. First I need to tell you something about this patient. He was brought here only a few days ago. He has had a severe head injury caused by a bullet that had pierced the frontal lobe of his brain. Considering the damage the bullet has done, it's a miracle that he's even alive. I wonder if you remember the case of Phineas Gage? A similar problem has occurred here. Though his motor areas and vital centres are intact, that is he can speak and interact normally, his power of thinking, logical sense and memory are gone and so is his personality. Perhaps things will be clearer when you meet him and talk to him' he continued on and on but Molly wasn't listening. Her blood had run cold at the familiarity of the injury inflicted upon a certain someone on the rooftop of St. Bart's and she just couldn't shake off the suspicion that had made its way into her mind. And sure enough, when she peeped into the room through the glass door, she saw Jim Moriarty fast asleep on the hospital bed.

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