I will take claim for the parody in this fic, because I did write it myself. I do not take claim for Molly, Sherlock, and Irene however, the characters belong to Sherlock BBC, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and Stephen Thompson.
I hope you enjoy this fic! ~ Ginger
Molly sat looking at her finished works, her tears now streaming, the little makeup she wore smudged around her watery eyes. But she had to get the emotion out somehow. This was the only way she could think of.
She sat on her bed, staring down at the piece of now slightly screwed up paper, wondering if there was any way she could get others to here.
Shaking off that thought, she remembered why she'd written it in the first place.
Turns out she wasn't even dead, and Sherlock was hardly going to choose his mousy pathologist over the seductive dominatrix that Miss Adler was.
This wasn't fair, Molly loved him, and she couldn't even say so. For so many years she'd had these feelings, and knew how to express them to any other man, but not him. Sherlock was different. She always told herself that's why she cared so much. But even she didn't know if that was true anymore.
But all Irene had to do was show off some flesh, a scratch of her intellectual side, and she had Sherlock wrapped around her little finger, fascinated by the riling seductress.
Reaching over for her guitar from her bedside, Molly made sure the tuning was correct, then began to play the instrumental of 'Jolene' By Dolly Parton.
As the tune progressed, Molly prepared to sing.
She'd never liked her voice all that much, but this version was now her song, however, and she could sing it how she pleased.
Molly took a breath, and cleared her throat, then began.
Irene, Irene, Irene, Irene
I'm begging of you please don't take my man
Irene, Irene, Irene, Irene
Please don't take him just because you can
Your beauty is beyond compare
With jet black locks of raven hair
With perfect skin and eyes a blue serene
Your lips are full, my jealousy
Your voice enticing, unlike me
And I cannot compete with you, Irene
He thinks of you right through his sleep
There's nothing I can do to keep
From crying when he says your name, Irene
And I can easily understand
How you could easily take that man,
But you can't know what he means to me, Irene
Irene, Irene, Irene, Irene
I'm begging of you please don't take my man
Irene, Irene, Irene, Irene
Please don't take him just because you can
You'll always have your choice with men
But I will never love again
He's the only one for me, Irene
I had to say these words to you,
Our happiness depends on you,
And whatever you decide you'll do, Irene
Irene, Irene, Irene, Irene
I'm begging of you please don't take my can
Irene, Irene, Irene, Irene
Please don't take him even though you can
Irene, Irene
As Molly finished off the piece, more tears began flowing down her face. Just like when Dolly had sung the original, the emotion had been completely real, utterly wonderful to hear, but real, not just any old song, that any old artist could sing.
She knew what it took to write a great song, and 'Jolene' truly was one. But Molly had 'made it her own' as some would say, and added her own emotion along with it.
Placing down her guitar, Molly took several breaths, she'd somehow calmed herself down just by getting it out, by singing her emotion into it.
Molly Hoopers respect for Dolly Parton had no boundaries, as did her love for Sherlock Holmes, and her loathing for Irene Adler.