Because in each of their own way, Molly and Sherlock are the same lonely broken persons, will they truly find their way into each other? Molly loves Sherlock. Sherlock feels the need to settle. What is intended to be a marriage of convenient which supposedly based solely on common respect and no attraction (on Sherlock part)… Well, let's just say, it turned to be not what it is intended. Set after Sherlock was shot by Marry in HLV.

She knew that he would never have feelings for her, feelings as in a man feels a woman. Now she knew that he did see her. He respected her. He liked her. But he would never desire her. He would never crave her. He would never be hurt because of her. He would never think of her when he didn't need her. And that was so sad. For all Molly wanted was that Sherlock had thought of her and bothered to ask John to tell her. That was all she had hoped. But of course, Sherlock didn't.

Molly Hooper cringed at the telly screen that showed about Sherlock Holmes's – yet again – near dead experience. "Sherlock Holmes was shot and is now in a critical condition," the anchorman spoke with a grim face.

Molly bit her lip. She supposed she still wasn't included to the need to know list about Sherlock Holmes's well-being even though they shared a deep bound when he was 'dead.' Well, it wasn't entirely anybody's fault since she supposed to have 'moved on' and be happy ever after. But nevertheless the realization that she was still unimportant for Sherlock made her heart ached. Just a little, she stubbornly tried to argue with herself.

She called Aimee, the hospital's receptionist and was told that Sherlock was still unconscious. Molly thanked her and walked to the treatment wing. She knew that she didn't have a valid reason to be there just yet. She was nobody for Sherlock. Fool, you are his friend. You have every right to be there. Besides, he is in St. Bart, you are in St. Bart, it is just an appropriate thing to show up, her mind argued. Molly smiled and felt a little lighter. True, if nothing else, I am still his friend.

Molly found a devastated John, anxious Marry, nervous Mrs. Hudson and the bridesmaid for Marry and John's wedding. "Hi," she greeted them.

John looked up and felt a little pang of guilt looking at the shy pathologist. "Molly. I'm sorry I haven't… I didn't think… I mean, it happened so fast. I…" he looked so at lost that Molly felt pity towards him.

"It's fine. How is he?" she asked. What is she doing here? She felt an excruciating pang in her stomach. Stop, Molly. It's none of your business.

"He is still unconscious. But the doctor said that he's not in a critical condition anymore," Marry replied.

Molly nodded and turned to John who seemed like hadn't slept in days. "He was lucky you were there," she said.

"I cannot afford to lose him again, Molly. You don't know the pain of losing him–" John stopped abruptly, realizing the painful expression, the longing, the love in Molly's eyes. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Why are you sorry?" Molly asked, confused. But that moment, involuntarily a tear fell down her cheek. "Oh," she said. She hadn't felt the pain coming. "I'm sorry," she chuckled nervously and walked backwards, the tears are on the verge of pouring. Damn, when it rains, it pours. "I should go… I just wanna know how he's doing."

John was at lost and shocked about her crying. Stupid Molly! She spat mentally. Marry stepped and said, "I'll call you when he's awake."

Molly nodded and walked away. She half ran to the morgue, her sanctuary. She was glad that they haven't bothered to give her an assistant. She inhaled deeply and tried to get rid of the thick fog in her head. "I shouldn't have come," she said to nobody. She chuckled and laughed. Stupid. Why would you want to be there when he's awake? Do you think he will think about you, need to see you? There's no difference to him whether you're there or not. He doesn't care.

"It's true. Whatever," she said to nobody. Molly wiped her tears and started to get to work. I managed my whole life without Sherlock Holmes. I'll manage the rest of it without him.

Molly had just finished the autopsy of a 33 years old woman named Kate Blanchard. She was found dead inside her 2 million pounds apartment in the heart of London. From the autopsy she concluded that Kate had drink a poison, thus it was a suicide. "How can you kill yourself, dear beautiful Kate? What is it you don't have?" Bitten nail. Soft smell of expensive perfume. Expensive clothing. No wedding ring. Dressed to impress. Kitten. She affectionately stroke Kate's black hair and sighed. "It seems what you don't have is the same as what I don't have," she bitterly spoke. "In the end, we don't have love."

Molly left the morgue early to visit Sherlock. John called and said that Sherlock's operation had been successful. She hoped to see him asleep, but there was that gorgeous girl in Sherlock's chamber, the bridesmaid. She was very attractive and suddenly Molly felt self-conscious about her appearance.

The girl sat on Sherlock's bed and the detective didn't seem to mind. If anything, he looked please with the company. He smiled and chatted happily with her. The girl leaned towards Sherlock… and Molly hurriedly turned around. Molly's stomach suddenly pained and she decided that it wasn't the right time to visit Sherlock.

888

That Janine was cruel. She purposefully withheld the morphine. Well, I guess I kinda deserved it. Sherlock Holmes chuckled at the thought. Now about Marry Watson, what to do with her?

Why are the women around me some kind of psychopaths? Sherlock thought. Well, not exactly. There is still Molly. Where is she? Why didn't she visit me?

888

Christmas was always the worst for Molly. She was all alone in the world after her father passed away. Her mother passed away giving her birth and she was an only child. So she was alone in this world, without family. And the closest people she considered friends, Sherlock, John, Marry, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade, had better companies to attend to than the poor mousy Molly.

What is Sherlock doing this Christmas? She recalled the Christmas she spent in Sherlock's flat, how he embarrassed her and then apologized to her. She recalled the time Sherlock stayed with her in her flat. How he barricaded himself from her. One should think I kinda mean something to him, she thought bitterly. But the truth is, he never bothers to at least think about me when he doesn't need my help. Never.

888

Sherlock and Mycroft smoked together. It was the rare time they bonded as siblings. Their mother scolded them for smoking and the two boys mischievously giggled. Sherlock breathed heavily as both tried to stop giggling. What is she doing on Christmas? He suddenly thought.

This is the time, Sherlock thought as the plane took off. He killed a man and even his brother couldn't pull anything beyond exiling him. He didn't regret it at all. If he had to kill Magnussen all over again, he would.

Six months he said, Sherlock thought about what Mycroft had told him about the undercover assignment. Hell knows I will never set foot in England again. At least not alive. A pang of hurtful brutal truth delivered a sheer moment of pain to Sherlock's heart. Yes, he heard rumors that Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes didn't have hearts to hurt or shatter. And no, he most certainly wasn't afraid of the 'death sentence.' But he couldn't help to think about the people who'll certainly miss him, hurt about him being not present. John, Marry, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Mom and Dad, even Mycroft. And there's also… Molly.

888

Did you miss me?

Did you miss me?

Did you miss me?

Molly gapped at the television screen that broadcasted the image of Jim Moriarty. Oh, dear God, it's not really happening.

Molly stoned in front of the telly, thought about the time when she and Sherlock planned and realized 'the fall'. Molly shivered a little. Moriarty must've learned that she helped Sherlock. Am I in danger? Molly shook her head to clear her mind.

"Did you miss me?" Molly turned around, surprised as a familiar voice broke her train of thought.

Jim Moriarty's cat like movement caught her by surprised. Like a mouse that became paralyzed by a cat's aura, Molly didn't have the time to react. "Oh dear mousy girl, who'll save you now?" he snarled as he trapped her to the wall.

Molly gazed Moriarty with an intensity she didn't know she dared. She was scared and surprised, but there were no one there to help her, so she knew that she didn't have chance otherwise. If she were about to die, she would want to face death with bravery.

"What do you want, Jim?" she asked coolly (at least that's what she hoped she sounded). Alas, her shaken voice betrayed her. She maintained eye contact with the man so dangerous that Sherlock Holmes had to die once to get rid of – the man who once had her affection as the funny and generous Jim from IT.

"Ooh… Pretending to be brave, aren't we?" Moriarty stroke Molly's cheek with his fingers. She flinched, but held her composure and stayed still.

Moriarty pulled Molly's hair mercilessly and whispered, "How dare you ruin my game with Sherlock, Molly?"

"Just because he said: you count -" he said in a mocking tone – "you crawled in your pathetic leg and do as he said. Why are you so stupid, woman? You didn't mean anything for him. He just used you, the way he used that stupid girl, Janine. Sherlock Holmes doesn't have a heart to care."

Moriarty stopped short. Molly felt pain in her scalp where Moriarty pulled her hair. Her neck contorted upward and it started to stiff. But Molly just looked at Moriarty in the eyes. Whatever, she thought about what the man had just said. It's not like I haven't already known all the things he said. What does he hope me to do? Cry? Does he hope I will be hurt and cry from that?

"On second thought," he suddenly released Molly's hair, stepped back and continued with his remark. "There was a woman whom Sherlock held affection to. Have you heard about her, Mouse? Have you?!" He yelled at her because Molly just looked at her without answering.

Molly flinched and shook her head in response. "I haven't," she said.

"Ooh, she is the loveliest of creature. Her name is Irene Adler. She is… well, the most suited woman for Sherlock, really," Moriarty rattled on. "He even went to Pakistan, in an undercover mission, to save her life. Pakistan. To save her life. What do you say, Mouse? He went half of the world to save Irene. And that was after she betrayed him and nearly beat him to pulp. But you… He just left and disposed you after he had no use of you. He doesn't save you now, does he?"

Hmm, was I supposed to be jealous? Molly sighed, answering Moriarty mentally. It did very little to my already shattered heart, really, Jim. I know that Sherlock has a heart. He cares deeply about John. And I'm not surprised, really, about Irene Adler. I knew there was a woman whom Sherlock held dear, though I've just found out her name from you. Surely you can do better than this to crush me, Jim.

Molly involuntarily chuckled. Moriarty eyed her. For the first time he seemed… confused. "Do you find it funny that you about to die, Molly?"

It was for the first time he called Molly by her name. "I'm sorry. No, I just… don't understand why you told me all of that," she spoke softly, trying to appeal to Moriarty's non-existence humanity. Molly, being faced with the reaper himself, couldn't bear to not be polite.

Jim Moriarty eyed her. He walked towards Molly and examined her face. "Interesting," he said. "I have a feeling that you are not scared of me. Do you take me lightly, Molly?" he asked.

"No, no," Molly answered. "I – Well, I don't really know what to do. I mean, I'm scared of my life, of course. Do you think I should scream or…"

"No, that will be unsightly," Moriarty cut.

"Yes, yes, of course. Unsightly. Umm… Well… It seems like you are trying to make me jealous and hate Sherlock, maybe?" Molly traded carefully. "I just don't know what you would achieve from that. I'm really sorry…" Molly hurriedly added when she watched Moriarty's face darkened.

"Really…" Moriarty moved to close the gap with Molly. Molly forces herself not to flinched or backed out. He reached Molly's braid and untied it. Moriarty slid his right hand in Molly's hair and watched as it slipped smoothly through his fingers.

"You've changed," he said. If Molly hadn't been too scared of getting killed, she would've notice that Moriarty's voice - the man she'd known as Jim from IT – dropped an octave and his pupils dilated so that their brown shade turned dark. "You weren't like this when we dated."

Molly didn't take the bait. "Hmm…" she responded non commenting.

"I'm not gay," Moriarty whispered into Molly's ear.

"I know," she answered coolly.

"Go on a date with me?" he asked.

"And if I won't?" Molly asked back.

"Maybe I will kill you," he answered. Moriarty grabbed Molly's wrists with one hand and forcefully pushed her hips towards him with his other hand. Without permission he invaded Molly's lips, brutally kissed her. He bit Molly's lower lip. Molly flinched and felt her wrist twisted mercilessly in response. The pain caused by his biting and twisting made Molly's tears involuntarily dropped. Yet she stayed as still as possible.

Moriarty released her. He licked his lips, wet from Molly's tears and blood. Moriarty smiled devilishly as she looked at his 'work'. Molly's lips bleed and swollen and there were tear and fear in her eyes.

"You don't fight and none will fight for you. Oh, I will have a good time playing with you, Molly. And what's its name - that fat fur ball of yours? Tobby isn't it?" Molly's blood rushed to her face as Moriarty slipped Toby's name.

"No," she whispered. "Please don't."

"He's all you have isn't he?" Moriarty hissed. "Don't worry. As long as you play a good girl, I won't harm him. Prepare for my conjugal visit, will you? You will enjoy it, too. Promise." Moriarty winked and walked away.

Sooo…. What do you think? Write and review is the right thing to do.