A/N: Just another idea that was floating around in my head, not too sure about it, but I hope you like it anyway. It might seem a little OOC and I do have a long and involved justification but, in the interests of keeping this short, I will just cite ASiB as precedent :P
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Silly Things
"Thank you for coming, Molly," John greeted her with a sad smile as he ushered her inside, "I just…couldn't face it on my own."
Molly gave him a sympathetic smile as she slipped out of her coat, "I understand," she assured him, trying to hide some of her uneasiness by looking around the room.
"I just want to reclaim some of the space," he explained, looking a little uneasy himself, "I can't throw anything out…not yet, but…"
"You don't want to see it all the time," Molly finished for him.
John relaxed and nodded.
"Where should we start?" she asked after a moment, once again looking dubiously around the room.
"I thought…I hoped you wouldn't mind sorting out his bedroom," John said haltingly, "I understand if you don't want to," he continued in a rush, "but I can't face it."
Molly plastered a bright smile on her face, "Of course, no problem," she said with much more confidence than she felt as she started down the hallway.
"Could you also have a quick look in his drawers?" John called after her, "Just to make sure we haven't missed anything important."
"No problem," Molly called back, "please don't be angry," she added to herself as she stepped tentatively across the threshold and entered Sherlock's bedroom.
Overall it was a lot more ordered than she was expecting, although he did seem to have an organising system known only to himself.
She bit her lip nervously as she started to clear up some of the clutter to make space for the things John would be bringing in, silently praying that he wouldn't be too angry when he returned and found his room had been rearranged.
Once she had finished clearing things off the floor, she turned and eyed his desk warily. It would be bad enough invading his privacy if he actually were dead, but knowing that he wasn't made what she was about to do feel downright wrong.
Telling herself to keep it together, if for no other reason than to prevent John from finding out the truth, Molly opened the first drawer.
She blinked in surprise, instead of the case notes or other important files she had been expecting (or even, heaven forbid, some hideous experiment) the drawer was full of knickknacks.
Knickknacks that upon closer inspection were an odd assortment of odds and ends – a button, a pen, the handle from a coffee mug, notes written on scraps of paper, a latex glove – yet they were all carefully placed in a box.
Everything except for a mobile phone that had been shoved unceremoniously to the back of the drawer, she pulled her hand back from it as though it burned as she recognised it as the one Sherlock had once x-rayed.
She shut the drawer with a little more force than necessary and moved on to the next one. She frowned as she opened it to reveal a wine glass that had been carefully padded with bubble wrap. Curiously she took it out, wondering why on earth he would keep a wine glass in his desk.
She froze as she caught sight of the lipstick mark on the rim.
Of course, The Woman, it all made sense now.
Molly felt a lump form in her throat and she tried to calm her breathing, telling herself that she was not going to cry.
She started and nearly dropped the glass as John entered the room, carrying a box full of Sherlock's paraphernalia. He frowned as he caught sight of the glass Molly was holding.
"He told me that he didn't know where that went," he commented, setting the box down and coming over to join her. "He actually accused me of losing it due to 'intoxication during the evening's festivities,'" he added, doing a passable impression of Sherlock's superior tone.
"Festivities?" Molly asked absently, trying not to think about the implications of Sherlock having a wine glass with Irene Adler's lipstick on it.
"The Christmas party," John explained, "I knew there was a glass missing," he added, "do you mind?" he asked, gesturing for the glass.
Molly shook her head and wordlessly handed it over, trying to make sense of what John had told her. There was only one Christmas party that he could be referring to and no one else had worn lipstick that evening.
Molly felt the world shift under her feet, Sherlock had saved her wine glass.