I know this 'Molly tries to move on' concept has been dealt with in many stories but I still wanted to do it. I recently found myself experiencing the same anxiety that Molly feels in this story and I couldn't stop myself from writing it. It might be a one off or a multi chapter. I haven't made up my mind has not been read by a beta so I'm apologizing in advance for any grammatical or spelling mistakes. Please read and review.

All rights to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Moffat and Gatiss.

It occurred to Molly one day, while she was waiting for Sherlock to come to the lab at Bart's, that there was no point to the thing that she does every day – wait for Sherlock. Wait for him to call, wait for him to show up in the lab, wait to read about his case in John's blog or some newspaper. It felt pointless because, she thought, while looking at the doors for the hundredth time, "OK, he comes, then what? He'll ask some questions about the samples, he'll work. He'll leave. If he's feeling generous, he'll ask after my health or about Toby. What am I actually waiting for? He's not going to magically change his mind and declare me his soul mate. Why am I wasting my time like this?"

She was feeling that same irksome feeling that she gets when she changes the channels too many times – that dazed, hopeless feeling, because she knows that no matter how many times she changes channels, she won't find anything entertaining. She's only changing channels because she can't think of anything else to do. Problem is, channel surfing daze can be lifted with the shake of a head, good coffee and good book. But the Sherlock daze? How to get rid of that? She was getting tired of the rut. Coming to work every day and getting adrenaline kicks out of watching Sherlock. She wasn't going anywhere. Not in her farce of a friendship with Sherlock and definitely not in her life. She thought about her whole life, stretched in front of her. Just waiting and nothing to show for it. Cold fear set in with that thought. An anxiety that she didn't experience since her uni exam days, kicked in. What am I doing with my life?!

The panic kept rising. Her breath became shorter. Her hands started shaking. Am I having an anxiety attack?! She stood up, gathered her stuff, took Mike's permission and drove home. She felt useless. Not even hopes of seeing Sherlock could keep her from running away. I guess this is what a mid-life crisis feels like.

Once she got home, she did a barrage of tasks that usually help her with anxiety. She bought groceries. She cleaned out her fridge, she reorganized her closet. She reorganized the book shelf. She knew at the back of her mind that the anxiety wasn't because of the chaos of her surroundings and an 'organized environment' would not help. Not this time. Not even Netflix binging helped. It only aggravated her more – as she tried to drown herself in fiction, her self-disgust only increased instead of abating. What am I to do?!

The next day, she took the day off and faced up to her problem – she was hanging on to a wistful dream instead of living. She needed to get her shit together. She had to get over Sherlock. To do that, she needed distance from him and that wasn't going to happen in London. She wasn't what she wanted to be for him, but she was definitely one of his 'team'. Even if she avoided him, she'd still have to face him from time to time – they had similar professions and shared the same group of friends. She shared a god daughter with him. I have to move away from here. There's no other way.

Over the course of the next month, she worked towards her new goal. Though she still looked towards Sherlock's visits (old habits die hard), she showed more restraint, grew more distant. But the resolve to move away never weakened. She felt she had become an addict. Cutting herself off from the supply was the only solution that appealed. After wasting nearly five years of her life, she didn't trust herself anymore. She used her uni connections to find a job in Edinburgh. She was able to find a teaching position in a small university. The only thing left to do was to find a place to live in Edinburgh and for that she needed to be there. She worked up her courage to say her goodbyes to her friends and colleagues.

She had given her two weeks' notice to Mike. She had expected him to try and change her mind but no one with eyes could miss what she had gone through because of her crush on Sherlock. He just smiled a sad smile and wished her all the best. With that over, what remained was the unpleasant task of saying goodbye to her friends. No point in leaving him for the last minute. He always finds out and his 'reveals' are cruel and cutting. I might as well start with him.

So, the next day, when she found him in the lab engrossed in a slide, she stood on the opposite side of the table and cleared her throat.

"Sherlock? Hi. I…need to tell you something."

He did not look up but said, "Yes, Molly?"

"I got a teaching position in Edinburgh. I'm leaving in two weeks. So, yeah…that's it. Thought you should know."

He then looked up at her. He was frowning slightly. Molly didn't know what to do. Should I just walk away? Maybe I should just walk away. She was going to do just that when he suddenly spoke up.

"That's…sudden. Any particular reason? I mean, all the best and all that, but really, this is quite out of the blue."

She was slightly taken aback. She just thought he would smile nonchalantly or shrug his shoulders and wish her good luck. She didn't think he cared enough to ask for an explanation. But here he was doing just that and she was at a loss for words. I'm going away to get over my unhealthy obsession for you.

"I've become rather tired of London. Change of pace and all that. I've always wanted to teach."

"Bart's is a teaching hospital."

"I've always wanted to travel."

"Take a holiday"

Dear Lord, he's getting that deductive gleam in his eye. What should I do?

"I…I feel like a holiday's not enough anymore."

"Molly – ", he said his voice rising in a warning tone and Molly took a snap decision. She settled for truth. What the heck? I won't see him again so I might as well tell him.

"I'm leaving to get away from you Sherlock. It's not healthy for me. I need a fresh start. I'm sorry. I know it's not fair to you, but I have to do what's best for me."

He just stared at her. What could he say? In a way, he was relieved. He always felt guilty that she was wasting her life but didn't know what to do. Now the responsibility has been lifted from his shoulders. After all he had put her through, he felt he owed her a proper goodbye. He just stood up and extended his hand.

With a sigh of relief Molly shook it. Still holding her hand, he said,

"All the best Dr. Hooper. I'm sure you'll do well in your career."

"Thank you Sherlock." She felt tears rising but before she could start crying, she drew her hand back, nodded and left the lab to go to the morgue.

He should be relieved. Oh, he's definitely relieved. He should be happy. I am happy. I'm happy for her. It was getting uncomfortable. Especially after Eurus. This is good. Heck, I'll even talk to Mycroft and see if I can get her a better position. He focused back on his case. He put Molly out of his mind. It definitely wasn't Molly's impending departure that was making him tap his leg against the stool restlessly.

So what do you think? Should I write another chapter ?