Ever since Molly had first met Sherlock, she had been drawn to him, but not for the usual reasons.
The women who had sighed after Sherlock so much, particularly after he became a phenomena, they kept talking about how cool and cat like he appeared, how smart he was, how sexy it was he could deduce every-thing so quick and how inspiring it was he always said what he meant, how out of worldly and mysteriouse he could be, so unlike normal every-day people. Even more they talked about his looks, his dark curls, hawk like face and tall frame.
Molly supposed all of that was true enough, and attributes worth admiring and be attracted to. But that wasn't it.. that wasn't it at all.
From the moment Molly had first met Sherlock Holmes, she had become sad, because he looked so sad, always. And Molly's inner kind woman wanted nothing more than to some-how ease his sadness, some-how give him a little peace of mind.
Only to fast did he begin to be so much in her mind, she wanted to do some-thing nice for Sherlock, then maybe he could smile just a tiny genuine smile, so she offered small welcoming helping gestures. She wanted to learn to know him better, make him know she were there for him, so she asked him out.
And yet each time, it had end in hurt. Sherlock always ended up hurting her, even without meaning to, and Molly kind of knew, all her affords of trying to help, they hurt him to.
And that was why Molly asked herself, why did she keep going through it? What was the purpose? Was there a purpose..? there had to be. Otherwise she and Sherlock couldn't keep on hurting each other that much, even though they had so little to do with each other. She only wished she knew her purpose in this sad story so she could deal with it and get over with it so she could finally move on with her life.
And yet, as her purpose presented itself, Molly was cursing her wish.
It was after a long days hard work of cutting up bodies and identifying corpses, Molly had just turned off the lights, only to receive the biggest scare of her life.
"You were wrong.."
Molly gasped as the voice had seemingly come out of no-where and she spun around, to shocked witness Sherlock sitting there, what was more a shock though was his next words.
"You do count, you always counted."
What Molly caught on more though.. was that sadness he had always carried around, for as long as she had known him, now though he didn't hide it, he didn't even bother to hide it, as if it didn't matter any longer. Some-thing had to be wrong.. terrible terrible wrong.
"Molly." he surprisingly softly spoke her name as he took a slow careful step towards her. "I think I am going to die."
"What do you need?" it was the first question on Molly's lip, she wanted to help him! that was all she wanted, just to help, and this time in his hour of need, she wouldn't want to screw it up again.
"If I wasn't everything you think I am.. everything that I think I am.." with each sentence Sherlock moved closer, his otherwise always so emotionless voice now filled with sadness and a little bit desperation. "Would you still help me?"
"What do you need?" Molly asked again without hesitation, never having been more sure of any-thing in her entire life.
Even as Sherlock stepped closer, now finally so damn close, mere inches away, so she could feel his breath on her face and his wet eyes looking into hers, pleading their silent plea. "You." he simply said.
Molly didn't breath a word waiting for instructions.. she didn't dare the screw this up.
"Please.." Sherlock whispered. "Stay.. I'm ahh.. I'm.."
"Afraid." Molly whispered trying to hold back her own tears.. Sherlock knew he was going to die, just like her father before him.. and there was nothing Molly could do, other than just be there. "It's okay.." she held her breath trying to find out what to do next, then did some-thing she would never have dared to do before, not even for a second would she have had to courage before now, she reached forward and gently took Sherlocks hand, and squeezed it.. then without saying a word she guided him to the bench for guests.. it was hard and uncomfortable, but duable..
They sat there, Molly holding Sherlocks hand for comfort, and Sherlock holding back tightly as to draw what-ever comfort he could, it couldn't be much, as Molly glanced down at their hands hers was so small and tiny, disapearing into Sherlocks hand, then she looked up at his face, which looked stiffly out in the room, without seeing, but thinking, as he always did, yet this time it was apparent he tried to solve an impossible problem, and he was trapped yet unable to rest. "Are you tired?" Molly asked Sherlock.
"No." Sherlock merely responded.
"You can lean on me if you want." Molly told. "I'll keep watch."
Sherlock blinked, and then looked confused at Molly. "I.." he stated in a confused voice. "I don't know how."
His admission was so simple and a little childish, Sherlock wouldn't know how to lean against a woman in comfort, how would he know? The mere idea had to be quite foreign to him. In a slight sigh Molly guided Sherlocks head down on her chest where he could simply rest in her tight embrace, at first he seemed tense and uncomfortable in this unfamiliar situation, but soon Sherlock had found his position and his grip in Molly's hand tightened as he waited.. waited in silence.. for his death in the morning.
Molly refused to cry, tonight the parts were reversed and she would be the strong one keeping up a face and be on the look out as only a woman watching over some-one she cared for could. But it was indeed cruel, so this was her purpose? This of all things? She was here to ease Sherlocks wait in his last hours. Finally she was helping but at what price? Had this always been her purpose? Was this to be the conclusion on this sad story? The story she could never affect or do any-thing about, she was just a minor character randomly thrown in, always had been.
And that was how they sat, till the break off down where Sherlock suddenly straightened up, let go of Molly's hand, and his mask was back on his face as he fixed his coat collar. "I shall have to go, John will be here at any minute, you should get home and get some sleep as well miss Hooper." he stated as he stood up in his full height, his moment of weakness were over, and he probably wouldn't want to show any weaknesses by saying thank you or any-thing like that.
Molly couldn't help herself, even though Sherlock was half way across the room she sprung up and ran to him to embrace him in a tight hug. "Please forgive me." Molly asked as she was putting up a brave fight to keep back the tears. "But, ones you are out of that door, I am probably never going to see you again, I know that. So what-ever I have to say I better say it now don't I?" she asked.
Sherlock silenced, not removing her or any-thing, not even retorting.
"I just wanted you to know that I am glad that I met you, even though you were good at hurting me without meaning to I am happy to have known you, it's been well.. interesting." Molly chuckled to herself as she finally let go looking up at Sherlock whom looked a tiny bit confused down at her. "I would ask you to stay, but I know it's useless." Molly sighed deeply. "You always did what you wanted and what made the most sense to you, look at me spoiling it all with all of my stupid talk again." she bit her lip. "I do talk to much don't I?"
"Yeas." Sherlock answered in his usual honest way making Molly smile amused. "But you shouldn't change." he then said and without warning grabbed her shoulders to turn Molly around so he suddenly stood behind her, lowering his head."I know why people don't like me, and it's fine, I don't like them. But I know why they don't like me, it's because they can't hide from me." Sherlock whispered into Mollys ear. "As I look at this room, nothing is hidden from me." he made Molly turn around, though was at all times behind her, as if just letting her have a look. "You may just see a smushy wall I know exactly whom it is who has this bizarre lust for intercourse at this place." Look with me.. that was his underlying tone.. see the world as I see it. "People always try to hide, lie, lies to the persons whom they supposedly care for, supposedly as to not hurt their feelings, alcoholics saying they don't drink, people telling other people they actually hate that they like them. So many lies and secrets, I hate them, I wish people would just say it as it is and move on." he stated spinning Molly around. "And none of them can hide from me, I can't stop seeing it, it isn't some-thing you just turn on and off at will. I can't change how I see it. Some-times I even wish it so I don't have to see all that smush, deal with all those lies." Sherlock stated turning Molly around so they were facing each other ones more. "You never ones tried to lie to me or tried to convince me of a lie, you realise how rare that is?" he asked her.
Molly shook her head, holding her breath.
"Don't change." Sherlock asked of her. "And have a good life where you wont be hurt to much."
Molly nodded tears finally filling her eyes. "I will." she stated and tiptoed to give Sherlock a last little kiss, on his left cheek, the same place he had placed a kiss on her cheek last christmas, before it finally became to much for Molly and she turned around to storm out, wiping the tears away from her eyes, only barely dodging John Watson on the outside whom was on his way in, he looked a little confused after her but then at last shrugged and went inside.. only to very few minutes after that, storm out to get to 22B Bakerstreet quick as possible, fearing for his landladies life, allowing Sherlock to walk up on the roof top and meet his own faith with a raised head.
