John's mobile jangled him out of sl

John's mobile jangled him out of sleep with a start, sending him floundering out from under the covers and groping for it before he was really awake. However, years of training in the past, along with more of the same since he'd moved in with Sherlock, made him sound as if he were merely a bit breathless, rather than half–asleep. “Hello, yes? John here.”

“Dr. Watson? It's Molly... Molly Hooper, at Bart's?” Hesitant, soft, Molly's voice was one of the last John would have expected to hear on the phone at... two in the morning? Had he really expected to get a long span of uninterrupted sleep with Sherlock out abusing corpses?

“Yeah, Molly... yes. It's two am.” It was unlikely she was unaware of the time, but it bore mentioning, all the same.

“I know, and I'm sorry, but I'm worried that something's happened to Sherlock.” These words had John's eyes all the way open and him swinging his legs out of the bed, already reaching for his trousers.

“Tell me what's happened, Molly,” he ordered in a much more awake and firm voice, rapidly dressing as best he could with the mobile to his ear 99% of the time.

“I came back with his coffee and found... well, this sounds really strange to say, I know, but I found his clothes shredded all over the floor near the cadaver he was working with. There was a little blood and... I'm not sure what it is, but... some clear, semi–viscous liquid. His coat's still hung up where he left it and... Doctor, I don't know what to think. I know he does some peculiar things now and then, but this is just too... well, like I said, I don't know what to think. I thought you'd be the best to call first.”

“You did right, Molly. And just call me John, alright? I'll be there as soon as I can. Don't... um... don't touch anything.” John was already dressed by this point and had automatically tucked his gun into the back of his waistband. The speculations running through his mind were varied—certainly more so than they would have been before he'd met Sherlock Holmes—but he couldn't even begin to come up with an opinion without seeing for himself. Keeping calm more by habit than anything else, he didn't even admit to himself how much he was worried deep inside as he locked up and left. Luck was with him, for a change, and he found a cab almost at once. The cabbie was entirely amenable to driving like a maniac once John promised him the largest tip he'd had in weeks to get them to Bart's in record time.