Author's Note: Young Sherlock stories will start at chapter 4, just laying the ground work for other bits. And please review or PM me, even if it is negative. I would love to know what works and what doesn't work to help improve my writing!

Chapter One

The Fall

Silence clung to the air making it thick. Molly Hooper hadn't been prepared for the man she loved to finally confess that he needed her. At least not like this. She had dreamed up scenarios, in which the man in question swept her off her feet, rode in on a white horse, or brought her tea in bed. The thought of that last one brought a flush to her fair cheeks. But it had not been any of those. It had been in the dark laboratory where they sometimes worked together. Sitting opposite Sherlock at the lab table Molly stayed silent, scared to speak lest she ruin the dream. Yet Sherlock made no signs of speaking either. Uncomfortably she tugged at her white lab coat and cleared her throat.

"What is it that you need Sherlock? I will do anything you need, anything at all." Molly said sheepishly.

"I want you to make a phone call."

"A phone call?" she replied confused. Suddenly the situations popping back into reality. "You need me to make a phone call?"

"Yes." Sherlock said placing his clasped hands to his mouth, his mind moving quickly elsewhere.

"Why?"

"I will be detained, plus I doubt if she knew it was me she would answer."

"You want me to call a woman? Like The Woman?"

"No No! She could be anywhere. Why would I want you to call her?"

"Sorry I just thought, well it's not like you know that many women Sherlock." Sherlock just stared at her from across the table. Pale blue eyes pierced through the dim light to meet hers.

"Will you do this for me Molly Hooper?" Sherlock's voice dropped a few octaves when he whispered her name, the sound of it sending a chill down her spine.

"Okay. I'll do it. What's the number?" Sherlock slid a small slip of paper across the smooth metal table. Molly took it quickly, reading the number poorly scrawled upon the paper. A single first name was etched along the top, Olivia. Sighing she stood to leave, mad at herself for getting her hopes up that Sherlock would be any less cold then he always was. However before she even took a step she felt his long firm hand against hers.

"We're hardly done yet." Sherlock said resolutely.

Olivia sat bored in her study. The book she had been trying to read all day lay abandoned and her tea had gone cold. The sun peeking through patches in the dark clouds warmed her skin through the window. She yawned despite herself and felt her eyes growing heavy. The house was quiet, it had been too quiet as of late and she just couldn't get used to it. The only sounds coming from the old clock on the mantle and the ocean waves just outside her front door. A soft knock at the door roused her from her dazed dosing.

"Ma'am you have a phone call." Olivia's assistant said. Not entering the threshold the tall aged man stood motionless, his sharp black suit and tie perfectly in place.

"From whom, Stanley?"

"The young woman wouldn't tell me her name, only that it was of dire importance that she contacted you." Shocked Olivia turned to the man, finally giving him her full attention. "I know we have had prank calls before Ma'am but something's different about this one, something in her voice."

"Something in her voice." Olivia said mockingly. She raised an eye brow to the man. "I've never known you to be so sentimental."

"Should I tell her you are out then?" he replied coarsely.

"No no, Stanley I'll take it. And why not. I haven't anything better to do" Olivia said shrugging her shoulders. She pushed out of her chair and slid past the statue of a man into the hallway. The phone sat alone seemingly out of place with the antique furniture surrounding it, the receiver lying awkwardly on the desk waiting to be answered.

"Olivia speaking." She said with a sigh. Slowly she leaned against the wall resting her heavy head on the tapestry and closed her eyes.

"Oh umm hi, sorry to bother you, my name is Molly Hooper." The girl's voice on the phone did sound flustered and weak but not at all what Olivia had been expecting.

"May I ask Molly Hooper why you are calling my home?" Olivia replied as silence fell on the other end.

"I have been asked to tell you to please arrive at Bart's Hospital in two hours." the shaking voice had demanded. Taken aback Olivia snapped to awareness all earlier drowsiness abated. She hardly knew what to answer but something in the girl's voice was pleading even if the statement had been unexpected.

"Bart's Hospital, is someone I know hurt?" Olivia implored into the phone.

"No, I mean yes… well…" the girl stammered.

"It is a simple question; a yes or no will suffice. And so help me if this is a prank." Olivia stated forcefully gripping the receiver tight.

"He said you would come without question. I don't know what to do." Molly said.

"He? He who? Who has made such a rather demanding request of my assistance?"

"An old friend. Please you must come. He said you were the only person that could help him right now. He said for him you wouldn't ask questions. You would be too curious to stay away."

"A nameless man telling me what I will do makes it very difficult not to do just the opposite." Olivia replied coolly tempted to hang up. But there was truth to the girl's words, however infuriating that may have been. Olivia was curious.

"Please, he needs your help." Molly whispered. Before Olivia could inquire further the line disconnected. Furious she glanced at the clock; if she didn't leave soon she wouldn't arrive in time. Smiling to herself she realized that was the desired effect, no time to think it over. It was now or never. She had a sneaky suspicion she knew exactly who was calling upon her. Gritting her teeth as her curiosity strengthened she called for Stanley.

"I need a car now."

"Yes, Ma'am, but where are you going?" he said popping his head around the corner, confusion marking his expression. "Is something the matter?"

"Saint Bartholomew Hospital, London, and the truth Stanley is I just don't know."

"Why so sudden?"

"When you are acquainted with the type of people I am, you get used to it. Have Helen stay late."

"Yes ma'am." Stanley looked at her disapprovingly but he would never voice the thoughts running through his head. Like those of how reckless she was, how irresponsible, how foolish, and how she was only distracting herself from her actual responsibilities. When would she ever grow up?

The cool wind bit at his face, tossing his hair wildly about. Sherlock gazed toward the ground. People passed below oblivious to the perplexing matter above them, unaware of the horror they were about to witness. Sherlock's mind raced, he had hoped to avoid this dilemma. He'd hoped to have wormed his way out of Moriarty's plan. However there he was standing with shaking knees on the roof of Bart's Hospital. He had of course known there was the probability of the man behind him, splayed with his unseeing pale blue eyes gaping toward the sky, would get out of the situation. Remove himself from Sherlock's problem leaving him with only one option, Moriarty's option. But he had not thought that a man like Moriarty, with such ego, would kill himself to remove the obstacle. Now he had no choice, die, or kill the most important people to him. He smiled; to go back to his life before would be death. Alone with no one but himself, no one to stop his raging mind from tearing itself apart, no one to stop him from tearing himself apart. He hadn't fully realized the effect John's friendship had on him until that very moment. He had been his friend when no one else was, and that was worth dying for, it was worth protecting. Sherlock scanned the horizon ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes. This was it. This was the end. His eyes were upon her before he even realized she was in his sights. Stepping out of her hired car, her long black hair rebelled against her, ripping franticly around her face, hiding her expression from him. It had been such a long time since they had last spoken, and as most of his conversations did, ended badly. He was even surprised she had come. Molly had done her job well. However if she stayed was another matter entirely, but that didn't matter to him now. Sherlock spotted John quickly exiting a cab. Dialing John's number he sighed knowing this would be the hardest conversation he would ever have. This would be the first time he had ever said goodbye to his best friend, even when others, like the dark haired woman who had finally spotted him on the roof, deserved those goodbyes as well.

The London streets were busy, and the sky was darkening with the coming rain. Sighing as the car pulled off to the side she prepared herself for whatever plot required her assistance. She was rather eager to meet this mysterious young woman from the phone and find out what man required her. The wind picked up as she stepped on to the curb tossing her hair across her face. Restraining the messy locks she glanced down the street toward the hospital. She couldn't recall if she had ever been to the location before but something did seem familiar about it. It was the flittering of a long black coat that drew her eye to the rooftop. She smiled unconsciously as she recognized Sherlock's silhouette.

"Of course it would be you." she said to herself.

She stood stock still as she watched him teetering on the ledge. His arm outstretched as if pleading with someone below. Seconds seem overextended, each heartbeat she felt in her throat long and slow. The dread grew in her mind. Then slowly as if watching a car wreck, Sherlock lifted his arms out. The wind catching his coat, and in a blink of an eye he was falling. Olivia's breath caught, her body refused to move, her mind rejecting to process what she was witnessing.

It wasn't until the first scream rang out that brought her back to reality and then her feet moved without her realizing. She ran at a breakneck pace down to the hospital, a crowd was gathering now but she could see Sherlock's out stretched hand, his blood like a puzzle snaking its way through the cracks in the pavement. She stood horrified as a man begged to be let through, desperately trying to take hold of Sherlock's hand. Olivia felt like she was going to be sick. How could she have been so stupid, why didn't she just stay at home, she kept thinking to herself.

"Olivia?" a young woman said, gently taking her arm. Finding it difficult to pull her eyes away from the scene in front of her, she slowly looked at the girl. Plain but pretty the young girl in her lab coat smiled at her awkwardly.

"Yes?" she breathed the word barely above a whisper.

"I'm Molly I need you to follow me inside, if you don't mind." Molly said her voice uneven as she fiddled with her clothing.

"No I can't leave him, I-I can't believe this! You called me here for this! If you knew this was going to happen why didn't you stop him! Call the police!" Olivia yelled jerking her arm away from the girl.

"It will be all right, I know you must be confused. I know I was when he told me. But you must trust me, trust Sherlock. He needs you here. If you'll please come inside, you may be waiting for a little while. I'm not really sure how long this is going to take." Molly replied refusing to glance at the body not 30 feet away. As she spoke men from the hospital were lifting Sherlock onto a gurney wheeling him quickly inside. His friend was left sitting on the pavement, blood stained his fingers but he didn't seem to care. His eyes looked as lifeless as Sherlock's had.

"Oh God I have to call Mycroft." Olivia said turning her back to the scene; she fumbled for her mobile phone completely ignoring the girl, but Molly was used to that. Molly's heart raced. She had to be firm. She had to take control, just like Sherlock wanted.

"He said not to do that, at least not yet. Please come inside. I will make us some tea." Molly insisted.

"I don't want any bloody tea! You can't really expect me to just take this calmly. I can't! I can't!" Olivia chocked, her voice cracking under the stress.

"Sherlock told me to get in touch with you. He told me to get you to stay. And he told me he wanted you to claim his belongings. I don't know why he wanted you to see this. Frankly I don't understand him most of the time. But his plans always have a purpose, they always work out. Come inside, soon things should start making sense again. Well sort of." Molly said forcefully, raising her voice over the growing crowd of spectators.

Dropping her mobile phone back into her purse Olivia sighed. She wanted to call Mycroft; he could do something, anything. Looking back to the haggard man sitting on the pavement, she couldn't look at the blood anymore, or the man's sorrow filled eyes. It was heart breaking.

"Alright."

Molly's office was small but cozy, if a hospital could be considered cozy. Olivia's tea sat untouched on the small desk in front of her. This was not the day she had prepared for. Not that anyone is ever prepared for days like this one. But when she had stepped out her front door she had the hope of mystery and intrigue; she had not expected to witness the suicide of Sherlock Holmes.

Molly had left her to her own devises about two hours ago, and with each moment it became harder and harder to resist calling Mycroft. She was assured it was Sherlock's wish and Olivia knew that his requests usually served a purpose. However her resolve was faltering. She still couldn't believe it. Why? It was the only question racing through her mind. Had he changed so much from when she knew him? Because the Sherlock she knew would not have done this, he thought too highly of himself. A knock at the door disturbed her thoughts.

"We're ready for you." Molly said from the doorway. She looked nervous as she led Olivia down to the morgue. Olivia didn't understand what she was doing here. She hadn't seen Sherlock in years. Shouldn't Mycroft or his mother be here? Shouldn't his grieving friend outside be the one traveling down to the morgue. Not her.

"Please, I know this is difficult for you. But he is just through those doors" Molly said motioning to the large metal double doors.

"Why me?" Olivia asked more to herself than to anyone else.

"I don't know, he didn't tell me that part. I guess the less I know the better, at least that's what he thinks" Molly answered, suddenly Olivia caught the look in her eyes, sadness, loneliness, but more than all the rest sheer utter heartbreak. Molly gave Olivia a once over, then glanced down at herself. There was judgment in her eyes; it was a look most females know. One given when ex-lovers find a replacement, a look of 'what does she have that I don't'. It was a shocking gesture. Not because she couldn't have been more wrong. But because first the mourning man outside and now this girl, how much had Sherlock changed? He had mourning friends and a girl in love with him.

"Thank you Molly."

Slowly Olivia made her way to the doors. Hesitantly she opened them. The room was dim, little light coming in from the observatory windows. It couldn't have been set any better. The room was empty, all but the one metal slab in the center. Olivia gritted her teeth as she slowly approached the occupied table. And there he was, coat and scarf still in place. Blood matted his hair, making his curled locks stick to the side of his blood covered face. His eyes were closed as if he were only sleeping, peacefully. She could only stand there and stare at him, no tears came, her breath was even, she didn't understand how she could be so calm. But the longer she stood there, unable to take her eyes off his face, the more her fists clenched. The hotter her cheeks became, then suddenly she was filled with more anger than she could imagine.

"YOU SELFISH BASTARD!" she shouted. "AFTER ALL THIS TIME! ALL THIS TIME! YOU CALL ME HERE TO WATCH YOU KILL YOURSELF!" Kicking the table, she couldn't bear to look at him any longer. She didn't want to be in the room anymore. Quickly she spun on her heal to leave, finally the tears catching in her eyes.

"You were the only person I could trust right now." Sherlock's baritone voice echoed in the room. Shocked Olivia turned just in time to see him straighten his coat as he sat on the edge of the morgue table.

"You're not dead!" she said stunned.

"Obviously" he replied, seeming bored with the way the conversation was going. Slowly she approached him, failing at keeping the completely dumbfounded look off her expression. In result to her minds slow uptake on the change of events she took to poking him in the shoulder to confirm he was actually in front of her.

"Why?" she whispered.

"The jumping off the rooftop matter I assume." He said. As she shook her head 'yes' in response he sighed.

"If I knew you were going to be practically catatonic I might as well have called Mycroft for assistance, though I am sure it wouldn't have been quite as easy to get him to go along with everything." Jumping from the table Sherlock removed his coat draping it across the slab, he moved gracefully to the sink in the corner. Removing the blood from his hands and face, little could be done about his hair.

"I had no choice. It is simple as that." Sherlock finally answered.

"No, it isn't as simple as that. Why did you jump and what the hell does this have to do with me?" Olivia said her patience draining quickly like sand from an hour glass.

"Since time is of the essence here I will make this brief. A man by the name of Moriarty, whose body is at this very moment in that freezer to your left, wanted to convince the world that I am a fraud, creating elaborate plans where doubt began to slip into everyone's minds. He killed himself so I would have no other option but to do what he wanted. Die and prove to the world that I am a fake. That killed himself in shame of being discovered. He placed those I care about in the firing range, quite literally, to ensure this. It was me or them. I had to die or they did. So when I said I had no choice, it really was that simple."

"Why call me?"

"I have to remain dead until I know it is safe for them. Otherwise all of this is for nothing, and their blood will be on my hands."

"That seems so kind of you, thoughtful, so completely unlike yourself."

"You can't still be angry with me." Sherlock's brows furrowed, shocked by the mere thought of it.

"I assure you I can. And this little situation that you are so perfectly underplaying does not help."

"It was years ago why would you still be upset?" Sheer malice came over Olivia's expression.

"I will leave that to your superior deductive skills." she scoffed.

"Dull! You and Mycroft are so similar never letting go of the past. It was hardly my fault what happened, and yet I received all the blame. Perhaps you should direct your anger toward the people responsible. Your father seems the suitable target." Sherlock spouted. Olivia rolled her eyes in response, clenching her jaw to keep her temper in check. She felt like she was dealing with a child.

"Why not call Mycroft? I am sure he could handle this situation a lot better than I can. And so help me Sherlock if you say it is because he is your archenemy, I will put you back on that slab myself and you won't get up this time."

"I have to assume they are watching Mycroft, and I also have to accept it was him that gave Moriarty the information about me in the first place. That is why I called you. They know all about me and by association Mycroft." Olivia stared un-amused, as if that had explained anything.

"But I know Mycroft. He would never have told them about you, he would have spun stories and documents to insure you were never involved." Sherlock continued.

"Until now, thanks to you. I take it you want me to hide you."

"Yes, a few years should suffice. I can't imagine hired killers staying loyal for much longer than that."

"So let me get this straight. You want me to shelter you for a few years, while hired killers look for any sign of you. And these assassins are just waiting to kill off all your acquaintances on the orders of a madman that just caused you to fake your suicide. Am I wrong in that assumption?" Sherlock's face was stern as he listened to her speak. "And you want me to pull my family into all this madness?"

"I know it is a lot to a…"

"A lot to ask is an understatement!" Olivia interrupted. "Do you realize the danger you have put me in just by calling me today!" Sherlock opened his mouth to interject but was cut off "of course you do! You also realize any efforts Mycroft put into my safety are useless now!"

"He should have thought of that before he told a psychopath all about me! My life, and my childhood, those I care the most about!" Sherlock shouted. Sighing Olivia glanced down at her feet, too intimidated to meet his gaze.

"Today was the first day I have ever seen you care about anyone but yourself. I just wish I was privileged to that as well. Goodbye Sherlock." Olivia turned to the door, but her hand rested on the handle longer than it should.

"Please Olivia, after everything that has happened between us I know I have no right. But you are the only person I can trust, the only person that can help." Sympathy oozed from Sherlock's voice.

"Sherlock I knew you long enough to know your fake empathy when I hear it, just stop." She opened the door, the bright light from the hallway overexposing her features. Sherlock's heart skipped a beat as his mind fought for solutions.

"I will have the car pick you up out back; you have funeral arrangements to attend to." And with that she was through the door slamming it behind her, leaving Sherlock alone in the dark.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. If anyone has any questions or would just like to chat my inbox is open! :D (Or drop me a line on tumblr! p-r-o-x-y/tumblr/com) I would really love to get some feedback since this is my first Sherlock fic.

Disclaimer: I own nothing... no really, nothing. It's quite sad. Owners are Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and I assume chaps at the BBC.