"Scattered Scenes" by Camille

Scattered Scenes from pretend Episode One, Series Five.

Takes place after Sherlock rescues Eurus from herself (pretend the final montage never happened). Let's also pretend these take place in "season five."

A few days later...

John and Sherlock are in a taxi en route to Baker Street to check on the flat and of course, Mrs. Hudson. It had been a long few days with Holmes' and authorities as they tried to make sense of what really happened at Sherrinford, and all was not yet resolved... but the detective and doctor had to make sure all was well back home.

From the other end of the seat, John notices Sherlock looking out of the window as they pass the morning rush. A leg crossed over the other, with his phone-less hands holding onto the hat on his lap, he is deep in thought.

"Eurus... oh yes, his very disturbed sister. Surely that's who is occupying his mind." John makes up his mind to interrupt Sherlock, to give him a break from his thoughts.

"So...," says John as he watches Sherlock keenly. "I hope Mrs. Hudson is well considering..." he pauses and chuckles a bit. "She and Mycroft are getting along now since he has offered to fix up the entire place."

"Hmm," says Sherlock still looking out the window.

John sighs and tries again. "And Molly..."

Sherlock's gaze out the window is interrupted by the name. He looks down at his hat and fiddles with its outer rim.

John sees this as a sign to continue. "Were you able to get a hold of her after..." he pauses again and clears his throat. "After... you know."

Sherlock sighs and looks straight ahead.

"I mean... now that she's aware of everything, things should be back to normal." John cocks his head to the side and asks, "Right? Sherlock?"

Silence.

John tries to resist asking again but curiosity gets the better of him. "Sherlock? Have you..."

Sherlock cuts him off while still looking blankly ahead. "What you mean to ask, John, is if I've made contact with Molly Hooper after I completely humiliated her in front of you, my siblings, and who knows who else. The same Molly Hooper who has been a genuine friend to me, and you. The same Molly Hooper I've very insensibly humiliated on and off by my careless, no, thoughtless... careless and thoughtless observations the entire course of our friendship?"

"Well..." John is taken aback by his friend's sudden tone.

"Yes, I tried to get a hold of her..." he says and adds as he looks back down at his hat, "with no luck."

"Oh," says John but not because he is surprised.

"She won't answer my calls."

John thinks to pull out his own phone. "Did you try..."

Sherlock cuts him off again, "Of course, I tried with yours andLestrade's, and with a random stranger's phone. It's no use. She knows it's me."

"She does know you rather well," John abruptly stops a chuckle. Seeing the slightest hint of hurt in Sherlock, he suggests, "Maybe we can stop by? You know, after we check on Mrs. Hudson and the flat?"

Silence.

The doctor shows a bit of frustration. "Surely Molly now knows why... that happened. Why that had to happen."

"The point is, John, that it happened," were Sherlock's last words for the rest of the taxi ride.

Scene fades on John as he sighs in regret.

Later that afternoon...

Despite it all, John and Sherlock decide to check on Ms. Hooper later that day.

"John," says Molly as he opens the door wider revealing another youngish man next to him. "Sherlock."

"Molly," nods John and looks over at Sherlock, hoping he'd speak. But no, John witnesses an expression on Sherlock he hadn't seen in ages. The same expression he wore when he realized that the carefully wrapped Christmas gift and card were for him - the same expression he wore just before he apologized to the woman standing in front of them right now.

"Molly," says the detective with reservation.

Not wanting the awkwardness to continue, John chimes in. "Thought we'd check in and see how things were."

"Oh," says Molly with a hint of a laugh, albeit nervously. "Things are well." Pause. "Not dead," she chuckles but stops immediately as she realizes it may have been in poor taste - others have died because of Eurus.

"May we..." John gestures towards the interior of Molly's place.

"Oh! Of course," Molly steps aside for the gentlemen to enter.

"I believe Mycroft's people have done a thorough job and removed all the cameras," says John as he looks up at the ceiling in the kitchen - but he and Molly are interrupted by a loud yank.

Both quickly look over at the other end of the small living space and sees Sherlock had ripped out a small device from the wall behind the bookcase.

"Not thorough," he mumbles and busies himself by examining everything closely.

John looks at the woman in front of him. "How are you, Molly?"

"Good," she smooths a strand of hair behind her ear and feels comfortable enough now that Sherlock has moved further away from her. "Good... considering I had multiple hidden cameras spying on me a few days ago."

John stays silent as he isn't sure what else to say.

"How's Rosie?" asks Molly. "I've been meaning to come by but work has been..."

John cuts her off as he knows she isn't being truthful. It isn't only work that has kept her away. "She is well. With the babysitter right now actually. She misses you."

"I'll be over to see her soon, I promise." Molly says.

They are interrupted by Sherlock holding another device in his hand, damaged.

"Sherlock!" Molly cries. "That's my DVD remote!"

"It was rigged with a mic," says Sherlock as he looks behind him. "I suppose we should also examine your DVD player." He looks at Molly and resists the urge to pick on her for still having a DVD player.

John steps around Molly and starts to walk away. "I'll get it."

Molly nervously looks up at the detective and lowers her voice. "Why are you here, Sherlock?"

Trying to cover up her wavering voice, he holds up the two devices. "Obviously to clean up my brother's shoddy work."

"Sherlock," she pleads discreetly.

It is time for him to be genuine about his intentions. To tell her he is sorry... more than she'll ever know. But the usually quick-thinking detective fails to say anything fast enough.

"If you're here to apologize," she begins to say while moving her eyes to the kitchen counter. "I'm fine. Everything has been explained by Mycroft and... we are fine. We are friends."

Sherlock watches her. He is far too good of a detective to miss the pretense.

"We are fine, Sherlock. Besides..." she explains, "there are things you need. The lab and whatnot."

Sherlock resents the notion that he only cares for Molly because of what he needs from her. It may have been true when he first started going to her, but it was further from the truth now. He loved her, she was his friend.

"Everything is fine!" She chuckles as she looks up and locks eyes with her favorite detective.

John interrupts by walking over with a medium-size device. "Well, you'll need to buy another one of these."

Molly faintly smiles at John as Sherlock still looks at Molly.

"So... we should get going," John looks to his side at his detective friend, "I've been away from my daughter long enough."

As the front door closes behind them, an oblivious John examines the device in his hand. "That went well. She seems to have gotten over it."

With these words, John steps down and moves in the direction of the street. However, Sherlock stays behind and looks at the now closed door.

"If only that were true," he whispers to himself.

Scene fades.

Three months pass...

The Baker Street flat is back in shape. Case after case, Sherlock and John get back to their old routine. Of course they miss Mary, especially John... but time does make it easier to recount the memories fondly rather than wallow in them.

Rosie now has two places to call home. Her full-time home with her father, Dr. Watson, and her part-time home where her father works a couple of days a week, 221B Baker Street. A.k.a. Uncle Sherlock's place.

Rosie is playing in her part-time crib as John reads the newspaper in his chair. Sherlock ruffles through papers scattered on the desk trying to find clues on his newest case.

"Ah-ha!" shouts the detective as he finds what he's looking for, startling both John and Rosie.

"What is it?" asks John still seated.

"It has to be the private investigator." Sherlock says as he walks over to his chair and closely examines the contents on the piece of paper in his hands.

"You are." John points out.

"I am what?" asks Sherlock as he takes a seat.

"You are the private investigator."

"Yes. Yes, John but I'm talking about the first private investigator." dismisses the doctor. "Samuel Nordstrom."

Curiosity strikes and John walks over to his partner in crime to take a look at what's in Sherlock's hands. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course I'm sure. I wouldn't have said it out loud if I wasn't."

John rolls his eyes at the detective's cocky attitude.

Some say Sherlock had changed for the better since Eurus' great final problem. But those close to the detective think it was a gradual change - Eurus just made him realize it for himself. Family was important. Friends were important. Lovewas important. He knew this now - but it wouldn't be him if he wasn't a bit cocky.

Sherlock thinks out loud, "The fingerprints on the doorknob to their flat, the hair samples inside the flat... they are his!"

"But... but could it be he was just being nosy and tried to get in the house to... you know... investigate?"

"At first, maybe. But it looks like Mrs. Nitwit and Mr. Deceased P.I. crossed paths despite her denial of ever meeting him. And I think our own client..."

"Mr. Nitwit? I mean, Mr. Stansfield." John quickly corrects himself as he disapprovingly looks at Sherlock for his bad influence.

"Precisely," smirks Sherlock. "One can only assume that he found out his wife was having an affair with the private investigator who was sent there to spy on her in the first place."

"And then he killed the P.I.? But why hire us to solve the murder?" asks a confused Watson.

"That is what bothers me."

"Well, if the forensics are accurate, we should inform Lestrade..."

Sherlock gets up from his chair with his right index finger pointed up, "If... being the keyword."

"What?"

"Anderson did the work," he says as he reaches for his coat.

"And?" asks a more confused Watson.

"And he did push me to the brink of suicide," he jokes. "I need a second opinion."

John rolls his eyes as he catches on. "Molly?"

"Yep. I need her expertise on this one."

"But you've avoided her for months," John reminds him. "Why now?"

"It has been exactly 3 months and two days since we last saw Molly Hooper and... you know exactly why I've avoided seeing her."

John nods. "Yes, because she needed time to heal."

Sherlock adds, "But now, I need her help."

"But do you think it wise now? Besides Anderson does fine work." he pauses before he continues. "Also it's two days and possibly a couple of hours."

As he wears his hat, "what?"

"That's when I last saw Molly." With a sigh, he continues, "you know Molly looks after Rosie some days. She is one of the godparents."

For some odd reason, Sherlock had completely forgotten this fact. Maybe it's because of his busier-than-usual schedule with family. Since discovering Eurus' existence, he has spent a few days each month keeping her company at Sherrinford - sometimes accompanying their parents. This may also explain the ease at which he was able to avoid contacting Molly.

"Precisely why I need to reconnect with her now. You can't have two godparents at odds with each other." He adds half kiddingly, "I've seen what you've been eating, John - your daughter hasn't been the best influence on your diet." Sherlock looks over at Rosie and grins. "Despite it all, uncle Sherlock adores you little Rosamund!"

As amusing as Sherlock tries to be, John puts his foot down. "Leave Molly be, Sherlock."

With a baffled look he turns to John, "I haven't bothered her one bit for ages!"

"Don't exaggerate. It has been three months. And she is well-off for it," explains the doctor.

Sherlock is enlightened by John's revelation.

"She seems happy," he corrects himself, "happy-ish."

"Without me around?" asks Sherlock.

"Yes," admits his friend. "She is wonderful with Rosie. We don't talk much, but when we do, it's never about you. In fact, it feels as though she tries her best to never speak of you." As much as it pained him to say it, it had to be said.

Sherlock pulls off his hat in defeat as he processes this new revelation. "Molly has been avoiding me as much as I have been avoiding her."

John nods.

Scene fades on Sherlock as he realizes while Molly may have reached the point of happy-ish without him, he has found himself rather miserable-ish without her.

That evening...

Mrs. Hudson enters the upstairs flat to check on Sherlock as she sometimes does.

"Sherlock?" she says and enters the space.

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson," replies Sherlock from his chair.

Mrs. Hudson sees the lone-detective with a book in his hand. "Thought I'd check in before bed. Is there anything I can get for you, Sherlock?"

Mrs. Hudson had found it easier to like her tenant as of late. He shows a kindness now that hadn't been present for all the years he had been her tenant.

"No. Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."

"Alright then," she turns to leave but remembers, "Oh! Did you ever catch that P.I. murderer?"

Sherlock smiles still looking at the inside pages of his book, "Indeed."

"Well done, Sherlock!" she says with excitement, and then turns around again. "Alright. Goodnight, dear."

Sherlock turns in his chair as he thinks of something. "Wait. Mrs. Hudson, have you seen Molly lately?"

"Molly Hooper?" She turns to face the detective. "Well," she thinks, "I believe I saw her a couple of days ago when I popped in to see little Rosie. Oh, that beautiful baby!" she adds. "Why do you ask, Sherlock?"

"No reason, Mrs. Hudson. Goodnight."

"Well, alright," says the old lady as she exits the flat.

Sherlock is left alone to his thoughts.

"Molly isn't completely out of my life, surely," he thinks. "She is still in contact with everyone around me. I wish I knew what she was thinking."

He hears a woman laugh behind him. He turns quickly to find Mary sitting on the edge of his desk. "Mary," he says. He hadn't seen or imagined her in weeks. Thanks to his mind palace, he is able to recreate Mary in his mind - to act and react the way she would normally.

"You are going to drive yourself mad with all those thoughts, Sherlock!" Mary chuckles.

Sherlock smiles and gets up. "Then again, I'm talking to a dead woman in my head, not entirely sane of me, is it?"

"True."

Silence as Sherlock leans against the desk with his arms crossed next to Mary.

"What's bothering you, Sherlock?" she asks with concern.

"You already know."

"Thoughts of Molly," she smiles. "Ah, sweet Molly."

The detective looks at Mary. "You know her well."

She nods. "Yes, but not as well as I would've liked - my time here was short. She's a wonderful woman."

"What should I do?"

Mary smiles at Sherlock sympathetically. "You forced her to open her heart, Sherlock. Only for her to find out it isn't reciprocated."

"I told her I loved her."

"But not in the way she loves you."

Sherlock sighs.

"You only had to admit that you love her like you love John, Mrs. Hudson... me. But she had to rip open her heart to admit her feelings for you knowing well your love wasn't equal to hers. And to pour salt into that open wound, she found out that you weren't the only witness to her admission."

Sherlock closes his eyes for a moment as he realizes Molly's pain may be more than he imagined.

"You know what you must do."

"And what is that?"

"Whatever you must do to make her not hurt anymore."

Silence.

"I know you may not what to hear this, Sherlock... but you aren't good for Molly. Any relationship with you is a very unhealthy path for her."

Sherlock walks to the fireplace and rests an arm on the mantel. "It's difficult," he pauses then continues, "for me to let go."

"Then you must ask yourself why it is so difficult," Mary simply explains.

"I can't lose her. Not because she is useful to me but because I love her."

"As a friend."

"What if it's more?"

"Is it?"

"I don't know."

"Well, what about Irene Adler?"

"She is an infatuation for the lack of a better word. She feeds my brain with unnecessary things riddled with lust," he dismisses her importance.

"An infatuation of many years," Mary points out.

He admits, "I admire her. But... she's an infatuation I engage with once a year," he says as he looks down at the small flame.

"Alright," she gives in. "What about Molly Hooper?"

Without a single thought, he utters, "She's delicate, sweet, and courageous in the most unusual of ways." He smiles, "She is permanent." He looks up at Mary and his smile fades. "But I'm no good for her."

Mary sympathetically smiles, "Then you know what must be done."

Sherlock looks back at the flame, "I must let her go."

With this realization, he looks up to see his mind palace Mary no longer present.

Scene fades.

Thank you for reading! Not much of a writer, but I do feel as though we were cheated on a much needed resolution. I don't mind it being open-ended but don't appreciate being dismissed (after putting the viewer through such a heartbreaking scene between Sherlock and Molly, all they had was a second-long shot of Molly grinning as she entered the flat?).

I'm not sure if this is the end of "Scattered Scenes" yet, but I'll gauge the reception before I decide. :)