Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC.


Fancy some chips?

Sherlock Holmes waited. For as long as he could recall, it was the first time he waited, mind you, patiently enough. Asides from his fingers tapping rapidly on the table. The consulting detective's eyes darted to the entrance of the shop every now and then. Sherlock was not nervous at all. Why should he? They are having dinner as friends. Not a date. Molly's already engaged to…whatever-his-name-is. The pathologist moved on and soon she would not be available to him anymore. Shaking his head, the consulting detective dispersed those uncomfortable thoughts and concentrated on waiting for Molly's arrival.

Honestly, what's taking her so long? He should have accompanied the pathologist back to her flat but no, being an 'independent woman of the 21st century', Molly was most insistent that he go to the fish shop first and she would meet him there. So Sherlock waited and waited. Half an hour had passed and after fifteen messages and six calls, the consulting detective decided that he have been patient enough and was prepared to go and find her himself because no matter how busy, Molly would never make him wait this long.

Sherlock's phone rang and without checking the caller ID, he answered the call. "Molly, where are you?"

She's gone, Sherlock. Molly's g-gone.

The consulting detective searched his mind palace for the meaning of gone. It came up 'No longer present; departed'. Sherlock still could not comprehend what John meant so he ran another search. Same results. His brain must have malfunctioned; he must have fallen sick. The logical solution would be to see a doctor but Sherlock suddenly felt apprehensive towards the idea of going to a hospital. This further verified that the consulting detective has taken ill for he loves hospitals because there would be a morgue in every hospital and where there is a morgue, there's Molly Hooper, always waiting for him.

The shop was filled with boisterous customers and sitting at the far corner, Sherlock continued to wait. With the help of Mycroft, John finally managed to locate the consulting detective's whereabouts. The doctor's eyes were red; an obvious sign that he was crying earlier on and looking at his best friend, John felt his tears about to make a comeback. He pulled Sherlock out of his seat, "Come on, mate. Let's get you home alright?" Like a puppet, the consulting detective did as he was told. Sherlock's mind went into an emergency shutdown and his only thought was, 'Molly missed their date.'

Hit-and-run…caught that bastard…her funeral's tomorrow...

John or Mrs Hudson would enter his room every few hours and leave some food for him but they knew Sherlock would not touch it. The consulting detective heard a sigh and a hand reached over to him, holding a tattered and bloodied box. It was formerly a well-wrapped present and clearly for someone very important to that person who bought it. "It's for you. Molly…went back to her flat so she could give you this."

Sherlock gave no indication that he heard John except taking the present from his hand. Deciding to give him some privacy, John quietly left the room. The consulting detective sat up on his bed and opened the small card. The doctor lowered his head as he heard muffled sobs from the other side of the door. Sherlock has never cried this hard since the day he lost Redbeard when he was six and he probably never would again.

Dearest Sherlock,

Happy Birthday!

Love Molly xxx

"Don't sit there." The consulting detective gave John an irritated look across the table. "Why not?" He challenged Sherlock and the latter looked away. Enraged, John exploded. This cannot continue any longer. "Because it's Molly's seat? She's not coming, Sherlock. Do you hear me? She would never be able to come here! It's not just you who lost her; we fucking lost Molly too! She would be so heart-broken seeing you like this, Sherlock." Mary placed her arms around the doctor, silently comforting him.

"I'm a consulting detective, John. It's my job to know things and there was never a day where I did not blame myself for Molly's death." Sherlock raised his hand to stop John from contradicting him. "If I did not ask her to have dinner together, maybe she wouldn't die. Maybe I would still get to see her become a mother. She loved kids, you know? Adored them, I never could understand the reason behind it but I assume if we were talking about children with her lovely eyes and cheerful disposition then I could see why."

The consulting detective went on as if he was in a trance. "She should never love me. I should be watching her from afar since I couldn't give her the kind of life that she craved for. That's why I went to such great lengths to stay away from her. She should still be alive and well."

The hurt was so visible in Sherlock's eyes. "Why didn't I ask Molly earlier? I'm not a good man but I don't deserve the pain and emptiness in here," The consulting detective pointed to his chest, "when l lost her without ever knowing how it even feels like having dinner with Molly. I sacrificed everything and in the end, I still did not get to see her happy. It's not fair, John, Molly shouldn't die. She shouldn't..."

Many years later

Sherlock arrived at the fish shop like every other night and sat at his usual table. A woman in a ponytail rushed to the seat opposite his. "I'm sorry for being late." The consulting detective stared at Molly. "Do you have any idea how long I waited for you?" The pathologist held his hand with a sad smile. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock. I truly am." He kissed her hand softly, not once breaking the eye contact. "You finally made it to our date, Molly."


Author's note: This would sound weird but I need to acknowledge that I came up with the story after watching 'Hachi: A Dog's Tale'. The movie was based on a true story and every time I watch it, I would cry because I'm such a dog person! I must admit it was an unusual source of inspiration but I hope you readers would still enjoy it :)

P.S. If I misunderstood how a 'fish shop' operates, I apologise for my mistake.