Molly Hooper was exhausted. Not just tired, as she had felt for the last three years, but absolutely, dead on her feet exhausted. She had been working three days straight and was about to collapse.

When she was finally finished Molly barely had enough energy to go home and almost fell asleep in the taxi. The house was dark and she didn't bother turning on a light, making her way through the house on pure memory. Walking straight up stairs she had a quick shower, almost falling to sleep again, and walked into her bedroom. She slowly opened the door, careful not to make a sound, and the scene made her smile. Sprawled across the double bed was her boyfriend of two and a half years, DI Greg Lestrade. He looked so sweet, with his grey hair all messed up and his leg hanging off the side of the bed. She didn't want to wake him up, but sleeping on the lounge didn't sound to appealing either. And he was snoring really loudly. Molly leant over and shook his shoulder.

"Greg," She whispered. "Greg, you need to move over."

He moaned and rolled over, a bit too far, and ended up falling off his side of the bed. Well at least he was awake.

He was disoriented, and slipped over twice trying to get back into bed.

"Hello." He mumbled, leaning over for a kiss.

"Hmm. Goodnight. Go back to sleep." He didn't need to be told twice.

She smiled. She smiled a lot lately; it was a nice change from the nervous school girlish smile she wore far too often a few years ago. It had been just under three years since Sherlock had jumped and almost destroyed the DI's career, and a year later they were living together. She was happy with Greg. She smiled, lying down she closed her eyes and was out like a light.

The next morning Molly woke up first, which didn't happen a lot, and crept downstairs to make breakfast. She was finishing off the coffee when she felt his arms around her waist and a kiss on her neck.

"Mmm. Morning." He murmured into her neck.

"Morning." She replied, turning in his arms to kiss him good morning. "I made breakfast."

"Smells good." he reached around and grabbed a piece of toast and a cup of coffee.

"So, what's on the agenda today?" Molly asked.

Greg looked at her, confused. "You forgot? Really?"

"Forgot what, exactly?"

Greg smirked and walked up behind her, pulling a rectangular box from out of his pocket.

"Happy birthday." He whispered.

"Oh my god I completely forgot!"

"Yeah I noticed. Open it."

Pulling open the smallish box she pulled off the lid. Inside the box was a silver chain necklace with a heart locket on it. The heart was gold with small silver vine patterns along the left side. It was beautiful.

Molly pulled the necklace out and opened the locket. On one side was engraved with Molly's favourite quote 'Love is like the wind, I can't see it, but I can feel it' and the other was a picture of Molly and Greg. It was one of her favourite picture. A friend of Greg's had taken it when she moved into her apartment. Greg was sitting on the lounge and he had grabbed her around the waist, pulling her on to the lounge with him. They were so happy.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it. It's perfect, thank you." She turned and kissed him, and kept kissing him. Pulling back before they got carried away, he smiled down at her.

"Do you want me to put it on you?"

"Yes please." Molly turned around so he could put it around her neck.

He put the necklace on her and she turned around.

"There." He kissed her. "You look beautiful."

"I'm wearing sweats and your T-shirt." She said sceptically.

"So?"

"So…Nothing. You have jam on your face by the way."

"What? No I don't."

Molly lifted up her finger, running it along his cheek and transferring the jam along the left side of his face.

"Now you do."

Lestrade stood there surprised for a few seconds, before reaching behind Molly and grabbing a handful of sugar and sprinkling it on her head. Five minutes later they were both covered in jam, sugar, coffee grinds and salt. It wasn't until Lestrade picked up the water/faucet/hose that the slowed down.

"Don't, Greg don't. I'm serious, this isn't funny."

Just as Lestrade was about to spray her with the faucet/hose the doorbell rang.

"Saved by the bell." He smirked and Molly turned and ran down the hall. She put on a jacket so whoever was at the door couldn't see the miss covering her T-shirt, and went to open the door.

"Sorry, I was-" Molly stopped talking and stared in shock.

"Morning Molly."

"Sherlock?"

Molly pulled the door closed behind her.

"Sherlock you can't be here. You have to leave, now."

"What? Why? Molly we need to talk." Sherlock looked the exact same as he did before the fall. Minus about twenty kilos in weight, the fact he was even paler before and looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. But other than that he looked the same.

"Not now. Sherlock this isn't a good time you need to leave before Greg comes out and sees you."

"Greg? Why is Greg in your apartment?" Just as Sherlock finished the sentence the front door opened.

"Molly where-" Molly winced and Lestrade froze, absolutely stunned. His expression went from stunned to shock to extremely confused. The three stood in silence for a long minute before Greg broke.

"What the bloody hell is going on here? You're dead."

"Obviously I'm not." Sherlock's tone was the same bored and annoyed tone he had heard so often before and the reality of him not being dead finally sunk in.

"Now if we could go inside I will explain everything." Sherlock didn't wait for an answer before pushing past Lestrade and walking into the house. He turned and looked at Molly, but she just walked past him and followed Sherlock. When they were all in the lounge room Lestrade started again.

"Okay, we're inside, now explain how the hell you're still alive!" he was ever so slightly pissed.

"I knew Moriarty was planning my suicide so I simply asked Molly how to-"

"You knew about this?!"

"Of course she knew. You didn't tell him? You've been dating for at least two years, I thought you would have mentioned it."

"You told me not to!" Molly yelled. "You said it could ruin everything!"

"Yes but you always were a terrible liar."

"Wait wait wait. So let me get this straight. You" he pointed at Sherlock "faked your death because you somehow knew Moriarty would kill you by forcing you to commit suicide, disappear for three years, along with my career and decent reputation, and you," he turned to Molly, his voiced filled with betrayal, "knew all of this, and didn't say anything."

"It wouldn't have mattered if she did say anything I couldn't have come back."

"Shut up Sherlock. I need some air."

"Greg-"

"Don't. Just… Don't" and with that Greg walked down the hallway and out of the house.

Molly just stood there. Everything had been going great, and then Sherlock bloody Holmes just showed up and ruined everything.

"I'm sorry Molly."

"Can you- can you just go. Please."

Sherlock may be foreign to human emotions, but he needed Molly's help, and decided not to push his luck.

Now she was alone. Just like the day Sherlock had died. Only this time she felt so much more alone. This was without a doubt, the worst birthday Molly had ever had.