The hours Molly spent at Scotland Yard were many. She'd been doing a post-mortem at 11:00pm when John came down to St. Barts telling her she had to leave.
"Molly, this is important. You need to come down to Scotland Yard, now."
"What? Why, John, I'm working, w-what's happened?"
"It's your boyfriend. You just… You need to come down."
"Jim? What, is he hurt?"
Her memory didn't fault her in any way. She'd been answering questions with endless officers and government officials for hours on end, but more or less DI Lestrade and John were always there. They'd explained it all. That the bombings happening around London were Jim's doing. That he killed an old lady. That he'd strapped a bomb to a child. That he did it all as a game. For Sherlock. And Sherlock wasn't even with her at the station. He didn't have the decency to tell her himself that she'd been dating a criminal mastermind. But he did have the arrogance to point out that he was gay. Or at least Jim from IT was gay.
Molly felt physically sick the entire car ride home with Lestrade, he'd assured her she hand complete police protection. And Jim wouldn't come looking for her. Or as Sherlock put, over text, 'Molly, you're just a means to an end. He won't bother.' Yes. That hurt. But she knew he meant well, that was just Sherlock. She expected no less.
Lestrade parked outside her house and lead her right to the door, before assuring her once more Molly, you've no need to worry. We're protecting you. He won't be back. Yeah.
Right now however, she was curled in a ball on her bathroom floor shaking from the cold that was all around her. The windows were closed and the heating was on but Molly's being still felt like she was submerged in a vast nothingness of cold, she needed to wash herself. She needed to wash her entire being.
So she did.
But his touch was still on her. His gentle kisses were still lingered on her pink lips. His hands were still grazing over her hips after having one too many drinks. He was still with her. He couldn't be washed away.
Molly wrapped a towel round her waist and chest, she'd turned her shower to an almost scorching heat but her being still shook. She wasn't even aware what was happening to her, her body just did. Her mind wasn't anywhere, but it was simultaneously everywhere. Before she knew it Molly was wrapped in her silk pink pyjamas and crawling into her bed when she saw it. On Jim's side of the bed.
A present.
A beautiful white rose.
Molly stared at it for seconds or for hours before touching it, she couldn't be sure. But it was completely obsolete. The purest white rose Molly had ever seen. Crafted with curved petals that were blossomed perfectly. A stem long and thin of a luscious vibrant and deep green.
With one single thorn.
Above the thorn, a delicate piece of red lace ribbon was tied, and a note attached.
Again, Molly didn't think. She just did.
She picked up the rose and turned the cover, revealing Jim's perfect (and slightly feminine) curved black handwriting from his favourite parker pen that Jim kept on his person at all times. Molly always teased him for it.
To Molly, my rose.
I never intended to hurt you. And I know you don't believe me. But I didn't. I also never intended to make our relationship last as long as it did. But I needed you. You made me feel, and no one has ever had that capability before. You made me feel human, for no matter how short a time. You made me feel contempt. You made me feel like I'm not the person who does what I do. You helped me escape from myself. And I didn't know I needed to escape from me, but as it turns out, I did. You need to realize that I never lied to you. You're probably doing that eye-roll thing right now. I always loved that. But I didn't. I didn't lie that I had feelings for you, because I did, as I have said. You've never actually met me. You met Jim from IT, a character I played. But there were times I slipped into another character. And I didn't know that character existed, but you brought him out of me. And it was the real me. Not Jim from IT, not the master criminal Moriarty, it was me. And I don't know how to find him again. But he was the most real character I have ever played, because he was real, and because I wasn't pretending. I'm forever indebted to you, Molly Hooper. Which is why you will never see me again. I don't want to see you in pain, because that brings out that part of me that only exists when I'm with you. And that part of me hurts. I want you to keep this note. That's all I ask. Anytime you're sad. Anytime you're lonely. I want you to look at it and remember you gave me something. You made someone heartless feel. I don't want you to ever think you don't count again, Molly, because you do. Please stop cutting yourself down. You're beautiful. You did something no one has ever done before. I don't usually admit that I was wrong. I thought love wasn't real. But then I met you. And I discovered that it was real. And I can die happy. I can die knowing I experienced it. I was wrong. It does exist. But I know I can never get it back, because the reality of it is an angel can never love a devil. No matter how hard he tries. I know you will be happy someday. You'll find someone who treats you perfectly. Because that's exactly what you deserve. And more. If anyone breaks your heart, I'll know about it. And so will he. I want you to be happy. I want you. But I know I can't have you. And I want you to be happy. If you being happy without me is the case, then so be it. I know you might hate me. I know you might love me. I know you might burn this note. But right now I'm not pretending. And that is something that matters, Molly. You matter. You count. I owe you so much, because you brought out a part of me that is something new.
Always yours.
Always have been.
Always will be.
-JM. x
Molly didn't show anyone that letter, but she slept with it underneath her pillow every single night after that one.
I had to get it out. All the Molliarty feels.
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