Reconciliation — Chapter 3: Face it all alone

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!

Her heart was beating so fast that she could feel it slamming onto her ribs. How had this happened? Sherlock had told her that he had seen Moriarty shoot himself. The blood loss after such an injury alone should've been enough to kill him. But no, of all the people in the world who deserved to live, Jim Moriarty had been granted that opportunity. Jim Moriarty who was evil personified, Jim Moriarty who had used her to get to Sherlock, Jim Moriarty because of whom Sherlock had had to fake his death, Jim Moriarty because of whom she was here... 'Dr. Patrick? Are you listening to me?' 's stern voice resounded in her ears and she snapped out of her reverie. 'Yes Sir. I'm sorry. You were saying?' she said meekly. 'Look, I know who he is alright? His papers say that he's Richard Brook but I know he's in fact James Moriarty, the person because of whom London is in such turmoil right now. It's ironical that at a moment when the whole of London knows his name, he himself has no idea who he is. He has no memory of being either Jim Moriarty or Richard Brook or anyone for that matter' said the doctor turning the pages of the file he had in his hands. 'So you really believe he's Jim Moriarty? That he did all those horrible things?' she asked cautiously, not wanting to give anything away. 'Of course. I am also certain that the good detective who tried to bring him down was falsely and mercilessly defamed by the media. Genius like that can't be faked, you know' he added as an afterthought. Molly felt a sudden rush of gratitude go through her and she felt like giving the kind old man a hug. But she thought better of it and instead nodded her head to show that she completely agreed with him. 'I'm sure you are feeling hesitant to accept him as your ward, Dr. Patrick. If you do not wish to do so, feel at liberty to communicate the same to me. I cannot force you to take up his case. However, as your senior I can only give you a piece of advice' he said, his eyes almost pleading her to take up the case. 'And what would that be sir?' she asked quietly. She had already made up her mind though. 'For a doctor, a patient is his responsibility. It is a his duty not to let prejudices and personal reasons affect his treatment. Isn't that what we have all promised to do when we took the Hippocrates oath? To practice medicine ethically and honestly?' he said to her, his voice calm and patient with a hint of apprehension in case she refused. 'You need not worry Sir' she said, laying her hand on his forearm. 'I promise I will look after him and treat him like any other patient, without letting his past doings affect my judgement'. He caught both of her hands in his large ones. 'Thank you . I had hoped that I could count on you. You don't know what we've been through, what with the psychiatry department being so understaffed. There was no one to look after the out patient department. And this young man has been without a doctor barring myself ever since he has been transferred from the Neurology department... ' he trailed off and sighed. 'I'll leave you to your patients then,Doctor and thank you once again' he walked away with a courteous nod. As for Molly, she stood rooted to the spot till her instincts kicked in. She had to tell Sherlock! Moriarty was still alive! She had found him! But the rush of excitement was quite short lived and it died down very quickly as she contemplated over the state of affairs. Sherlock had not left her any means to contact him and neither had Mycroft. Sherlock's phone had been discarded on the rooftop and she didn't have his current number. She didn't have John or Lestrade's numbers either. So who would she tell? She had had no friends who knew about Sherlock and Moriarty. So she had practically no one to turn to. Mike Stamford? She hadn't known him well enough to confide such an important thing to him. So she had to deal with this alone. She looked through the glass at Jim again. He looked so peaceful with his hair tousled and his face devoid of the malice that usually adorned his features. A far cry from the Moriarty Sherlock knew. He almost looked like the Jim she had known. Jim from IT. The Jim who had been kind and gentle towards her. The Jim who had for some time given her the best few weeks of her life. She owed Sherlock's fall, John's misery and her current state of living under an assumed name to him and him alone and yet, she couldn't bring herself to turn away from him. With a sigh of resignation, she walked back to her office and pulled out her laptop. When the home page opened, she hesitated momentarily before typing in 'Phineas Gage' into the search bar. If she was supposed to treat her patient, she'd might as well know what exactly was wrong with him.

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