They sit in a gloomy silence for a long time. Sherlock's considering her plea.

"You owe me favour for helping you to fake your suicide," she says eventually.

Sherlock raises an eyebrow.

"What excactly do yo want me to do?"

"Like I said."

"Are you serious?"

She only nods.

"But why me?"

"You know best how to do it. Together we..." Molly briefly hesitates. "It would be perfect. No one would ever know."

"I have to think about it. Call me later."

"Please," she whispers. "I'm afraid of him."

Then he leaves.

One week later John comes home looking bewildered.

"What happened?" asks Sherlock.

"Molly called me. They found her rapist dead in his flat."

"How?"

"Suicide," answers John. "With sleeping pills."

"Good," murmurs Sherlock and when John flashes him a puzzled look he adds with an annoyed sigh: "For Molly."

Johns laughs quietly.

"What's so funny?"

"It's macabre. A man died and all I can think of is where my own sleeping pills are gone."

Sherlock smiles. "No, it's fine. Molly's now safe again. That's all what counts."