She nodded gravely, knowing what the man in front of her was suggesting would most probably destroy her spirit, but she knew it was the right thing. She even saw remorse in his eyes. Mycroft Holmes wasn't the most expressive of men, but even he knew when he was being the cruellest he had ever been. He seemed almost sorry, looking down at the hat in his hands instead of her.

"I can never repay you, Miss Hooper, no matter how hard I try. But this is essential. For him and for everyone involved. You have to stay away-..you can never see Sherlock again. Ever."

So she had nodded and left the cottage, not sparing a glance towards the man who was leaving them behind.

Yes, she had helped him when he needed it the most. She had discovered the stranger lying unconscious by the riverside, his head wound clearly visible. She had taken him in, nursing the man till he had regained consciousness. Against all propriety, she had continued to look after him while sharing the same roof, slowly nursing him back to health. Even when she realised that he had no memory of his past, his behaviour being extremely rude yet truthful, she had continued to support him. Had waged a continuous battle against his stubbornness, his strong will proving him right and her wrong on many an occasion. (She had jokingly called him William as his answers to most questions was well, I am!).

As time passed and her queries about him threw back no answers, she resigned herself to the fact that she had done the best she could. William had gradually started to settle down, temporarily making his quarters next to the vicar's. He used his knowledge to solve problems for local villagers, right from finding the tavern thief to providing Mrs Hutchens with a better yet easily made coop for her hens.

And somewhere along the way, the quiet, shy woman had opened her heart to the now not-so-much a stranger. She was surprised when she realised William reciprocated her feelings, and not just out of gratitude. He had asked her to marry him, and things had been looking better than ever for the young woman.

Until the vicar returned from London with the news that he might have found something about William. That he was an important man, with an even important family. Molly had contacted the said family, was happy that her fiancé would at last find answers to his questions.

Questions that were never asked.

As fate would have it, a few days prior to his brother's arrival, William had tried to tame a local colt, an art he had mastered to sublime levels. But the beast had been scared by a snake and had thrown the man off. William had injured his head again, and though the injury didn't look as grave, the wound ran deep.

Right into Molly's heart.

The man who regained consciousness looked at her with a haughty yet unfamiliar gaze. There was a hardness to him that had been absent before. Molly was devastated but not surprised when he did not recognise her or anyone else.

So when the older brother had arrived from London, it was the younger brother who met him. Sherlock, instead of William.

There were perfunctory 'thank you's exchanged before a restless and impatient Sherlock practically dragged his older brother away to the waiting carriage, leaving a heartbroken woman behind. But Molly was happy for him, happy to know that the man she loved had finally remembered and embraced the world he had so obviously loved and missed. And her life would be lonely, but still richer for the time she had known him.