AN: I do not own any of the characters.

*Click*

"Autopsy report for Mr Sherlock Holmes. White British male, approximately mid-thirties. Committed suicide by jumping off the roof of St. Bartholomew's Hospital. Cause of death: Trauma to the head and possible internal injuries, I'll know more when I open him up." Molly spoke aloud for the recorder, as with all her autopsies. She carried on with her report, all the usual things you would find with a jumper.

Thankfully not what she was seeing in front of her.

It was Sherlock Holmes, but he wasn't dead. It was a close one though. He was still unconscious, and would be for a few hours yet on the medication she had given him. He really had suffered a head trauma, which concerned Molly deeply, but hopefully it would just be a concussion. He had four broken ribs, a fractured radius in his arm and an awful lot of bruising, but given the circumstances she was glad that was all. He would be in a lot of pain when he woke up though, even with the medication.

Molly dressed his wounds as she talked, taking great care. She hardly gave a thought to how much trouble she'd be in if they found about the supplies she'd stolen from upstairs for this, or for lying on an autopsy report. Sherlock had asked for her help, and she was not going to let him down. No sacrifice was too much for the man she loved, especially given the sacrifice he had just made, that had landed him on her table.

Having finished her report, and all she could do for Sherlock until he awoke, Molly left him covered on the table and moved onto her next body. She had a couple more to get done today. And then there was Moriarty, although she was uncertain if she would be able to deal with him today, the temptation to stab him repeatedly with her scalpel would be too much. It was too late to hurt him, and she didn't want to add damaging evidence to her list of crimes. No, probably better to leave him until she had her emotions in check better.

Molly had nearly finished with both her other 'patients' and was beginning to get worried, when she heard a faint groan from Sherlock. Immediately she dropped what she was doing and rushed to him. He started to turn his head to look at her and hissed in pain again.

"Shh, don't try to move." Molly said gently, surprised to find herself crying with relief "How are you feeling?"

"Bruised all over, possible broken ribs and arm, and a concussion?" Sherlock gave his self-analysis.

"Four ribs. And I should expect so, you hit your head rather hard. I was concerned-"

"Painkillers?" Sherlock asked through gritted teeth, cutting her off.

Molly looked up at the clock to check if it was safe to give him another dose yet, and was shocked by the time. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I should have given you more sooner, hold on a second." She hurried to get another needle ready with the medicine, mentally flogging herself for not taking better care of him and having it ready. She pushed the needle into his good arm and released the painkiller into his bloodstream. "Better?" She asked.

"Somewhat." Was his short reply, closing his eyes and sighing. His eyes snapped back open with an urgency as the pain stopped clouding his mind. "Molly, I need to know, are John, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade alright?"

"Mrs Hudson and Lestrade?" Molly asked in confusion.

"Yes. It wasn't just John Moriarty threatened to make me jump like I suspected, it was them as well. Now tell me, are they okay?" Sherlock asked urgently, genuine concern in his voice.

"Yes. I think so-" Molly started

"You 'think so' isn't good enough." Sherlock snapped "I need to know. I need proof. Have you seen or heard from any of them since?"

"Um… Lestrade was here, a few hours ago. He came to investigate the situation and came down to see how I was doing. He said he was on his way to break the news to Mrs Hudson after. I haven't heard anything about them since…" Molly said uncertainly.

"It's enough. And John?"

"I haven't seen him myself, but Mike came down to talk about what had happened, said he'd taken John home. He was just standing there kind of… numb with shock ages after they bought you in. Mike thought he might need examining, but John wouldn't accept any help but a ride back to Baker Street." Molly told him. She instantly felt bad for mentioning the last part, as Sherlock closed his eyes in pain, which Molly could tell wasn't from his injuries. She opened her mouth to apologise, but Sherlock spoke first.

"It was for the best, for them." He said, reassuring himself. He opened his eyes again, looking at Molly "Thank you. Don't let me keep you from your work."