Molly silently cried as she packed up whatever things she had left at his flat. Thank God Mrs. Hudson gave her a ring when Sherlock left; she wasn't sure she could face him. It had all happened so suddenly and out of the blue. Nothing prepared her for this. Sherlock Holmes had effectively ended their relationship with no warning signs. One minute, she was happily helping him with an experiment and the next, it might as well have been her heart he was cutting into.
They hadn't been living together yet, but Molly was so sure they were ready to take that step before the ball dropped and crushed her spirit. He wasn't cold to her when he ended it; it was gentle, but it still shook her to her core when his words replayed in her mind. Perhaps his soft demeanor about it is what made it hurt more. She wished he would've been cruel; it would be easier to be angry instead of heartbroken and confused.
With the last of her things packed in the small box, she scurried out of the building and awaited a cab to take her home. It was drizzling and dreary, the chill from the slight breeze making her shiver. An empty cab pulled up and Molly was thankful, never noticing the occupied cab that pulled up behind hers. Sherlock Holmes watched with pain in his heart as a broken Molly left him in the dust. It's better this way, he told himself.
Weeks passed and Molly hadn't seen Sherlock since he ended them. No more experiments at the lab; not even any cases brought him to the morgue. Her life had done a complete three-sixty and reverted back to the way things were before she first met him. It was boring and uneventful. He had left a gaping hole in her life with no other way to fill it.
"Hey Molls," Greg announced his presence. Her head shot up, hopeful that there was a chance Sherlock would be with him, but there was no sign and her shoulders slumped.
"Hi, what can I help you with?" she asked, unenthusiastically.
"Need to take photos of a Mr. Erickson for a certain git who refuses to leave his flat," he grumbled. Noticing the look on Molly's face at the mention of her still too recent ex, Greg hugged her. "I'm sorry, Molly."
"S'fine," she sniffed. "Thanks, I needed that. Let me roll him out for you."
Sherlock's wall above the sofa was covered with papers and photographs, string connecting them all. He lifted the photos that Greg had retrieved for him and reached for more string to add them. There wasn't any left. He mumbled to himself in frustration, tearing 221B apart to find something that would work. His grumblings stopped when he came across a small roll of oxford blue yarn that managed to hide beneath his bed. Molly's yarn. He revisited a memory in his mind palace.
"Happy Christmas, Sherlock," she smiled gleefully, handing him a gift bag. He lifted the hand-knitted oxford blue scarf out of the plethora of crinkling tissue paper.
"Molly, I—thank you so much, sweetheart," he told her, a kiss placed upon her lips. "It's perfect."
"I'm happy you love it," she said, her arms wrapping around him.
"Mm, I love you," he spoke softly.
"I love you too, Sherlock."
"Sherlock!" John shouted for the last time, snapping the detective out of his mind palace.
"What? Where's Mary?" he asked.
"She's at home with Rosie," John informed him. "Still not happy with you, by the way."
"It was for the best, John," Sherlock insisted, a lie he kept telling himself.
"Yeah," John laughed in disbelief, "you know, you keep saying that. Who are you trying to convince, Sherlock? Better this way for who, exactly?"
"You're in no position to interrogate me about relationships when you cheated on your wife," Sherlock spat out. "And with my sister no less."
"Fair point, but Mary and I are working through it, not divorcing," he shot back. "I made a mistake and I'm trying to fix it. However, you just gave up altogether, Sherlock. Molly Hooper was your Mary Morstan; still is, and you kicked her to the curb. You're not as clever as you think you are." With that, John stormed out of the flat, leaving Sherlock to huff to himself. He was doing this for Molly; staying away would be better for her, no matter how much pain it would cause him to do so.