Author's Note: I don't own Sherlock. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the BBC do. So don't sue.

This started out as a daydream whilst I was bored during class and is slowly turning itself into a story. It is heavily Sherlolly and anti-Janine. If you don't like it, don't read it. But if you do decide to give it a chance, please review and let me know what you think. More chapters to come :)

Song Suggestion: Voices Carry by Til Tuesday

Sherlock. It's always about Sherlock.

Tears fell down Molly's face as her favorite vase went whizzing past her head, busting open on the wall behind her. She honestly didn't know what she'd done to deserve such treatment, but the man before her was livid.

"Are you even listening to me?" Her fiancé demanded.

"You know I am." She intoned, as flatly as if she were speaking to a corpse. She was way past the point of trying to appear attentive. Instead, she stared blankly ahead, trying to avoid eye contact.

"Then, answer me dammit! You're still helping him aren't you?!"

The pathologist knew there was no clear way to respond to that question without angering the man further. The only thing left to do was tell the truth – or, at least as much of it as he could handle.

"I told you I haven't seen him in weeks." The poor woman rasped. "We barely speak these days. He's so busy getting ready for John's wedding."

She wasn't lying exactly. Sherlock had been so preoccupied with fulfilling his duties as best man that she'd hardly seen him. The wedding was next week, and already she shuddered at being in such close proximity to the two blowhards who seemed to be competing for her with rapidly growing hostility.

"If you haven't been talking to him, then how do you know what he's up to? After everything he's done, why are you still keeping on with him?"

"After all this time - how can you not trust me?"

"How can you expect me to when he's texting your phone at all hours of the night?!"

"It was just that one time." Molly pleaded, trying to be the voice of reason. "And I never answered. You know how demanding he is. I dare say he's as bad as you."

The sharp crack across her face brought the pathologist crashing back to reality. She immediately felt the split from Sherlock's voice telling her not to make jokes. Apparently she was bad at it.

"You should have made your position clear from the beginning." Ethan roared.

"How can I when it's clear that you're making it for me?" Molly argued, giving as good as she got. "I come home to you every night. The only other place I go is work. Isn't that enough for you? I don't go to Baker Street. Not even for a consultation. I ignore as many calls as I can."

"It's just that you never tell me anything!" Ethan whispered dangerously, finally lowering his voice. "I hardly see you anymore."

Molly huffed in frustration. As a couple, they had gone from "what are we going to do tonight?" to "You're spending entirely too much time at the lab. With Sherlock."

"You want to know something?" Molly entreated. "Sherlock may have his moods and his methods, but so do you. Maybe worse even. You're always stalking me, going through my phone, scanning my texts, rummaging through my things... I fancy you two deserve each other, eh?"

Ethan recoiled as if he'd been the one who'd gotten slapped. But Molly didn't care. Before he could take another step, she backed up into the entryway of her room, intent on slamming the door in his face.

Ethan noticed, and calmed himself accordingly. The last thing he wanted to have to do was break down the door. For one thing, it would attract too much attention.

"Please listen to me Molly." He atoned. "I wouldn't have to do all those things if you didn't ignore me half the time. You know I'm not him. I never will be. And I resent the comparison."

"For Heaven's sake! I don't want you to be Sherlock! I love you for you. Not for who you're trying to compete with. What more can I possibly do to prove it to you?"

Apparently Ethan knew exactly what she could do. "Tell him to fuck off then." He urged. "I mean it Molly. I know you've been helping him out behind my back. And I'm sure your supervisor would find it very interesting to know all the privileges your precious little detective's been getting under the table."

"I'm not quite sure what you're implying." She lied, wishing she wasn't.

"Then let me spell it out for you." He replied. "Stop helping him. Stop leading him on. And stop letting him shag you on the side for extra favors."

"Ethan!" Molly was truly shell shocked. Although she knew better now, there had been a time when she'd thought this man was actually the one. He'd been so sweet – treating her like a princess. And now here he was accusing her of whoring herself out in a one sided relationship.

Molly smiled sadly to herself. Perhaps it wasn't entirely inaccurate. She'd do anything that Sherlock asked of her. Even now. Only she wouldn't let him get the better of her. Not like this...

It seemed strange that Sherlock should know her any better than her own fiance. But that wasn't saying much. Ethan was about as observant as a blindfolded mole, and Sherlock was only observant with her when he had to be. Nice when he wanted something. Cheeky when he wanted her out of the way.

Perhaps she'd be better off without the two of them. But it was too late for that. She was already in way over her head. There was just no way she could live without Sherlock. Then again, there was no way she could live with him either. So she made up for it in the only way she knew how.

If Molly were being honest with herself, she would have acknowledged that she never really loved Ethan. She was more than he deserved. But he was also the only man who would look twice at her after Tom had left. And she didn't think she'd ever get another chance to be engaged.

Besides, she couldn't very well spend the rest of her life moping after Sherlock. Nor would she.

So, this was the way things had to be.

Just for now.