A/N: To celebrate having 100 followers on Tumblr, I wrote my take on Sherlock dealing with Molly's engagement to Tom. Takes place during The Empty Hearse and The Sign of Three, but without Molly helping Sherlock with John's stag night.

Sherlock tossed and turned in bed as he tried to get his ever-racing mind to Shut. The. Hell. Up. It was the night of his welcome home party, and images from the gathering kept playing over and over in his head.

Well, certain images. Alright, one image. The image of Molly Hooper, the best pathologist he'd ever met and one of a handful (alright, a large handful) of people who had kept his not-dead secret. Molly Hooper, and the man she had promised to marry.

He looks just like me. How can she say she's 'moved on' when he looks just like me? It's like I've been replaced with a bad knock-off. A pale imitation. A stand-in.

Sherlock's eyes shot open. A stand-in. An understudy. A seat filler. Temporary. That's it! She was just keeping him around until I came back. He was there to remind her of what she was missing. Now that I've returned, she can send him on his way, if she hasn't already.

Galvanized, he grabbed his mobile from the nightstand.

1:26a I know what you're doing, Molly. SH

1:29a No, I really don't think you do, Sherlock. Molly

1:30a Of course I do – you're using Tim as a temporary substitute for me. SH

1:33a I'm what? I'm not doing anything of the sort, believe me, and his name is Tom. Molly

Sherlock frowned at the glowing display of his mobile, the only source of light in the room.

1:34a Tim, Tom, what difference does it make? SH

1:37a The difference is that I'm shagging him right now. Molly

Oh… Sherlock didn't realize until that moment exactly how much a heart could sink.

1:38a My apologies. I won't bother you again tonight. SH

He turned off his phone and tried again to sleep, deliberately not thinking about Molly shagging her fiancé. Consequentially, he didn't see her response until the next morning.

2:41a He's asleep. Sherlock, what the hell was that about? Molly

Not knowing how else to respond, he decided to lie.

10:16a I had too much to drink last night, please forget everything. I already have. SH

Deciding he needed to stay out of Molly and Tim … no, Tom's way, Sherlock stopped all personal contact with Molly. He only saw her at Bart's and he kept all conversations there strictly business. No compliments to get her to do what he wanted (though her skin is glowing and very soft-looking these days), no taking her up on her offers to get him coffee (she's always so thoughtful), no asking her about Tom (What does he have that I don't?).

That went splendidly (in his eyes) for a week, then Molly cornered him on the first-floor landing of 221 just as he was going down to hail a cab to a crime scene. What surprised Sherlock wasn't Molly's presence, as he'd been half-expecting, half-hoping she'd confront him. No, what surprised him was the fact that Molly wasn't even angry.

"What's wrong, Sherlock?" she asked softly, her big (beautiful) brown eyes full of concern. "Is it John? The work? Something's bothering you and I need to know what."

"You really don't know?" he asked quietly.

"We're friends. At least, I thought we were. But you've barely said a word to me since…" She trailed off, her eyes widening in realization. "Oh, this is about Tom."

"I…" I love you. I've finally realized it and I'm an idiot, a complete and utter idiot, for letting you get away. "I just want you to be happy, Molly." He looked deep into her eyes. "Are you happy?"

She gazed back at him in silence for a moment, then shook her head a bit. "Oh, um, yes, I am. Tim and I are very happy."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, unable to hide his amusement. "Tim?"

Molly's face flushed. "Tom! I meant Tom, of course…" She quickly turned away. "I should go. It was nice seeing you, Sherlock." She left without another word.

Sherlock spent the next few months pretending everything between him and Molly was just like it was before Reichenbach, but every time he saw Molly and Tom together, he wanted to swoop in, deduce Tom to tears, and ride off with Molly into the proverbial sunset. Thankfully, planning John and Mary's wedding took up quite a bit of his thoughts.

The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear. Sherlock successfully kept Molly out of his thoughts all day, then he saw her and Tom kissing at the reception. He felt his heart sink to his shoes but decided to soldier on for John's sake.

During his best man's speech, Sherlock was utterly dumbfounded at Tom, no, Meat Dagger's response to the "perfect crime." How can Molly still want to marry such an idiot? He may look like me, vaguely, but otherwise he is nothing like me.

As he played the piece he'd written for John and Mary, he closed his eyes and wondered what it would be like to waltz with Molly at their own wedding. After telling the new Mr. and Mrs. Watson their good news and finding no one to dance with, Sherlock decided the best thing to do was leave early.

He donned his Belstaff and was halfway to the parking lot when he heard Molly's voice.

"Sherlock!"

He turned just as she caught up to him, a cream-colored shawl and her purse in her hands.

"If you're leaving, then I'm leaving too," she said.

Sherlock couldn't believe his ears. "What … what about Tom?"

"Tom who?" she asked, holding up her left hand, the ring finger now bare.

Sherlock couldn't believe his luck. "Coffee?" he asked, offering her his arm.

"Just what I was going to suggest," she replied, grinning, as she took it.