As the first drop of rain fell, Molly tilted her face to greet its followers. The drops weren't gentle, but the touch was welcome, the relief they offered outweighing the pain. Her tears were lost in the downpour, the rain providing relief in more than one way. As the petrichor wafted up from the parched earth, it covered the smell of the flowers that she'd brought with her.
He'd hate it, this show of sentiment, this act of placing flowers when the recipient would not be able to appreciate them anyways.
Did he even like flowers? Did he hate them? Did he mind them? Did he even notice them?
There were so many mysteries to the man that she'd need another few lifetimes to uncover them all. And that too if he would let her.
But she was grateful to him for letting her in this time, for sharing his plans no matter how morbid they sounded; to be included in the small group of people who knew that the body lying beneath that headstone wasn't that of the detective at all. It was one subterfuge she was happy to be a part of, as being on the other side would've been absolutely devastating.
"Not that it's still not hurtful…it's been such a long time…take care Sherlock," as she gently caressed the name carved in gold. She had no idea how long she stood there unmindful of the rain…had no idea how long she had company.
"I will Molly… I have something to come back for." That deep baritone startled her; she would've probably tripped if it weren't for Sherlock's hand on her arm steadying her.
He was dressed in a sports jacket and jeans, a cap pulled low over his now short, blond(?) hair. He guided her away from the grave with his name on it, neither needing words to convey the worry and relief they found in each other. Reaching the cemetery gate completely soaked, they faced each other. Molly ravenously scanned that beloved face, his features set hard but his eyes soft.
Tucking a wet escaped tendril behind her ear, he whispered, "Till later, Molly Hooper" before turning and disappearing in the rain. Molly stood there for a while before turning and heading home. She didn't try to think much about it, simply adding the encounter to the list of her cherished moments, which was somehow getting populated with instances of that one man.