The Doctor's Daughter | Wholock {1}

Chapter 11: The Pathologist

Did you miss me? The message kept echoing in Sherlock's mind. In the past hour, Sherlock had relived Moriarty's 'suicide' in his head at least a hundred times. There was no possible way Moriarty had survived, not after shooting himself through the brain. Yet everything—the television message, Mary's kidnapping—reeked of Jim Moriarty. And then there was the matter of Kimmy, the time-traveling daughter of his best friend. Was it a coincidence that she appeared on the same day her mother was kidnapped, or did her presence somehow fit into Moriarty's plan? Sherlock didn't know the answer.

"I don't like not knowing!" he suddenly yelled, slamming his fists down onto the table. He was in his lab at Bart's, analyzing some samples that he and Anderson had found in the Watsons' home. From what Sherlock could tell, it was some kind of sap. If they were lucky, it would tell them where Moriarty had been before taking Mary.

A high-pitch voice cried out in surprise as Sherlock shouted. He looked over his shoulder and saw Molly standing behind him. He hadn't heard her come in. "Case giving you trouble?" she asked, smiling faintly.

"No," he lied smoothly as he turned back to his work. "I am sorry if I startled you."

"No need to apologize," she said, setting a cup of coffee down on the table in front of him.

"What's this?" He hadn't asked for coffee.

"Black, two sugars," Molly replied as she walked back towards the door. "That's how you take it, isn't it?"

"Yes, but..." Sherlock's voice trailed off. It was one of the rare moments when he was at a loss for words.

"You always ask for coffee when you come," Molly explained. "I didn't want to waste your time by asking if you wanted any." She walked out of the room without another word.

"Thank you," Sherlock called before the door closed, not sure if she'd heard him.

"Did you seriously just thank someone?" Anderson asked, sounding surprised. Sherlock had forgotten he was there. "You never thank anyone."

"Shut up, Anderson," Sherlock said, trying to focus on his work. In truth, he was wondering the same thing. He'd both apologized to and thanked Molly without even thinking about it. Sherlock normally did neither. Perhaps he was feeling sorry for her because her engagement had ended? That doesn't make sense, either, he reminded himself. He divorced himself from his emotions; he didn't feel pity for others.

He shook his head, trying to clear it. The mystery of what he was feeling would have to wait. Right now he needed to focus on stopping Moriarty and finding Mary.

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Sorry I haven't updated. I was having a serious case of writer's block. But I'm back now! I've written the next few chapters and will try to update once a week or so.