He awoke to a familiar electronic drone and the smell of disinfectant. His stomach heaved before he even opened his eyes. He lay there a moment listening to the sounds around him until he heard someone softly clear their throat. His eyes flew open and he turned his head in the direction of the sound.

Molly Hooper sat next to his hospital bed and stared back at him through large, anxious brown eyes. He had never really considered her any sort of great beauty. She was small, tended to shrink into herself and dressed as if she'd pulled random articles of clothing from a bin at a shelter. Right then, though, even with a surgical mask covering her nose and mouth, she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, her voice muffled through the mask.

"Like hell," he muttered.

He knew she smiled by the way her cheeks puffed under her mask.

"Oh? Did you visit there while you were sleeping?" She asked brightly.

He stared for several seconds. She was still such a mystery. Every time he gazed at her, words and images swirled around her like a shifting cloud of ether. Even now, he could not imagine what she would utter next. She was infuriatingly fascinating. He could get lost in her fathomless eyes.

"Take the mask off," he whispered.

His energy was so incredibly low. He felt like a broken reed clinging to its stalk by a sliver of cellulose.

"You're still recovering. I don't want to risk infection."

He flicked his fingers dismissively. "If anyone is going to kill me, Molly Hooper, I want that person to be you."

Molly tilted her head down and tugged at the mask's straps. His heart squeezed in his chest as her gentle smirk appeared. It was an odd, unfamiliar sensation that he did not like one bit.

"Better?" She asked.

"Infinitely," he mumbled.

Silence stretched between them for a few moments until he could no longer suppress the struggling voices in his head.

"How did you do it? How did you convince him?"

Her brows shot up. "Who?"

"You know who."

She smiled secretly to herself. He felt a pang of . . . envy? He wanted to wretch.

"Strangely, that man will do anything for me."

He swallowed. "Which begs the question, why? Why would you want to help me?"

Molly tilted her head to the side. Her eyes constricted as she studied him.

"Ah, well, I've come to learn that I can see things other people cannot, or will not for that matter. You have not always been a good boy but you are not entirely an evil man either, Sherrinford."

He looked away. "You are delusional, Miss Molly. I have killed people. That makes me very evil, indeed. Doesn't it?"

"Oh, yes, certainly if that were the case. You see, I had another look at those records because something in your eyes nagged at me at times. There were plenty of Myeloma candidates in much less advanced states that you could have conducted your little tests on but you chose only the sickest. Only those who were going to die regardless. Potentially, you might have saved their lives had any of your interference actually worked."

Sherrinford coughed and wheezed. "Perhaps I have fooled you once again."

His eyes wandered back to her penetrating gaze. She twitched her brows in amusement.

"Again? You haven't succeeded yet."

He winced and closed his eyes. Every interaction with her painfully rearranged things in his mind as if the sound of her voice alone blew up the neatly organized stacks of information files he'd accumulated.

He groaned. "Why do you torture me so?"

Her voice tickled his ears. "Oh, I don't know. It's not something I've ever tried, but I do believe I'm beginning to like it."

He smiled wanly and drifted then. He was exhausted by just the shear effort of staying awake. He fought to stay conscious.

"I still don't understand," he opened his eyes one last time. "Why, after everything I did to you, would you help save my life?"

Her face steeled. "I am not a person who sits idly by when there is something I can do for a dying man, especially one intimately connected with what will be my family in short order. You have tremendous gifts and I think there's a part yet for you to play in this world."

She stood up and leaned over him. Her eyes flashed and he felt a ripple of fear race through his gut- another odd and uncomfortable experience.

She flicked his nose. "But don't make me regret this, Sherrinford Holmes. You owe me your life and I will find a way to collect if you try to skip out on your debt."