Author's Note: So this is the companion piece to my other story, 'A Consulting Detective's Concession.' So I know other Sherlolly fans might dislike this one because it isn't strictly Sherlolly. I just wanted a different take on this. Now, I love Sherlolly. I really do. But I wanted to see where the roles are reversed while sticking as close to canon as possible.

Heavy Molly angst. Molly/Dean, and One-sided Molly/Sherlock. Sort of. It's fanfiction, take what you want from it. The main thing I changed, beside Molly origins story that never went into detail anyway, is that Ellen was always a hunter, but pretty much left after she had kids.

Anyways, even if you are a Sherlolly fan, I still say you should read it. I think I did rather well on this.

Enjoy. Please review, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

It was beautiful.

Everything was just perfect. From the bright sunshine of the usually gloomy sky, to the cheery atmosphere of the guests and to the bride's perfect dress. An amazing ivory that fitted snuggly along the woman's chest, long sheer sleeves with small embroidered blossoms along her slender arms, and a satin skirt that's flared out under the gold ribbon tied around her hips. Even her normally thin lips had been painted a radiant red that made her mouth seem fuller than usual, and her thick, plain hair had been swept back into a sophisticated bun with little rhinestones scattered at the edges.

The ceremony and reception went off without an issue. Twinkling fairy lights hung from the ceiling of the tent, illuminating the lace and wine glass covered tables and chairs in a soft, romantic tone. Her friends and family mingled and danced with a joyous energy. In the corner of her eye she could see her husband speaking warmly with his mother, for once smiling, looking happier than she had ever seen.

Everything was beautiful and perfect.

No one noticed the puffiness under her eyes, nor the lack of sincerity in her smile, or the whiteness of her knuckles under the table from tightly clinched fists.

Molly Holmes felt a pit in her stomach so big and painful she thought she'd throw up.

She was supposed to be happy. This was her wedding day. This was her wedding to a man she had cared for and loved for years. Everything had gone perfectly, and it was a wedding straight out of a little girl's fantasy.

Molly wasn't supposed to feel as though her heart were breaking, or cold at the thought of sharing her life with her husband, nor tears in her eyes that threatened to spill over as if someone had died.

Molly Hoop-Holmes, had a secret. As a child, her mother and father hadn't always gotten along. They had personalities and life styles too different to function together. Her father had lived in a world of logic and science. Yet he remained soft within and doted upon his only daughter the way any father would.

Her mother was tough and hard. Kind, but strong. Her mother lived in a warrior's world, a dark one. Her mother lived in the world of the supernatural. A world of monsters. Monsters she and a group of others hunted.

Her mother and father had met and fell in love when she'd been on a hunt in London. (Not that he knew that, of course.)

As a result, Molly had been born.

And so when they had fought that last time, Ellen had taken her daughter back with her to America. Molly had only been 8 or so.

She spent the next 12 years between America and London. Over the holidays, she lived with her father, but stayed with her mother the rest of the time. They alternated like this until she turned 17, when Molly could no longer spend long periods with her father due to his failing health.

Meanwhile, not more than two years after they had moved to America, her mother met her new husband and soon gave birth to Molly's little sister, Jo. Molly adored her little sister and liked her step-father.

It was not soon after that the little family met another family, one made of hunters that would inadvertently introduce her and her sister to hunting. Her mother never forgave the father of the family for the death of her deceased husband. The same could not be said for her daughters.

The oldest son Dean and Molly grew close. Within a year, they were the best of friends. Molly loved the family like her own. John was like a second (third?) father when he dropped in, Dean was her best friend, and the youngest son Sammy was a little brother to the once lonely girl. This bond only grew through the years, soon including her baby sister Jo, despite their mother's obvious displeasure with the father.

Like most relationships, Dean and Molly's slowly turned into something….more. They went through their teen years completely inseparable.

When she was 13 and he 14, she started to notice little details about him that she hadn't before. Like, the way his green eyes shone when he laughed, the strength in his arms when they hugged, how he tanned so easily after just hours in the sun.

When she was 14 and he 15, she felt sparks on her skin whenever his skin accidently brushed hers. She thought often at length of how soft his lips looked when he smiled so sweetly at her. How safe she felt even though he now towered over the girl after hitting a growth spurt only months before when he stood next to her. Most importantly, she noted his sudden interests in girls, and hoped he would turn his interest to her.

When she was 15 and he 16, Molly saw the way he stared back at her now. She saw his jealousy when other boys flirted with her. She saw the way he watched her mouth when she spoke, how he looked so deeply into her eyes when it was just the two of them. She watched as her got the courage to ask her out and the relief when she agreed without hesitation.

When she was 16 and he 17, she was breathless from her first kiss. She liked that she could now freely stare at him and touch him as she pleased. She could cuddle when she felt sad, she could hug when she needed comfort, and she could kiss when she couldn't take not touching him any moment longer. Dean didn't protest. Most of all, she loved the scent of his cologne and feel of his leather jacket when he just held her.

When she was 17 and he 18, they made love for first time. It wasn't romantic at the time. He saw her sadness at her father's sickness and knew he had to comfort her in some way. Yet, it didn't make their first time any less to either of them. Nor the second, or third, or any time after. It was also the first time she knew she loved him.

When she was still 17 and he just turning 19, their parents discovered their relationship. Her mother screamed so loud at them she thought her ears would bled, and his father's disapproval spoke volumes. To see the roles so reversed unsettled the teens. When asked why, Dean could only respond with, "How not? She's my best friend, and as stupid as this mushy crap sounds, I love her. It would have always been Molly. She's it." And when Molly turned to Dean, neither noticing the shocked yet dawning accepting silence, Molly choked out, "I-I love you too." And she did.

When Molly was 18 and he 19, Molly knew she would marry that man. No one would ever be able to live up to him. He wasn't perfect, and he was her first and only boyfriend, but Molly knew. So one day, when their parents had finally allowed them along together again, they jumped in the Impala, and he stopped by an empty spot seemingly in the middle of nowhere. She didn't care, just as long as they were together. That night, their lovemaking was slow and intense. And in the aftermath, as they laid together in the back seat, he said, "I love you. You've been in my life forever. I don't know what I'd do without you. I don't want to find out. So, will you stay, always?"

She could only breathe, "Dean…"

"Marry me?"

"Yes."

When Molly was 19 and Dean now 20, they picked out rings. They panned for months where and when, what they'd do after. Dean swore he'd quit 'the family business' and get a job and get her through school. Molly planned to become a doctor, medicine something she'd always found interesting. Most of all, they planned for a future together.

When Molly was 20 and Dean 21, Molly's father's sickness got worse. Molly, despite the distance, loved her father dearly. Dean had his own issues, what with his little brother and father's fighting becoming worse. So Molly and Dean decided that she would move to London to take care of her father, and he would stay until he got his family issues sorted. The couple would not let distance break them up. They belonged with each other.

When Molly was 21 and he 22, Dean's little family broke apart. His baby brother left them for a future of his own, and his father spiraled. Dean did not know how to fix it. He just knew that he couldn't leave, couldn't be with Molly, until everything settled.

Molly had started university and her father's only continued to grow more ill with each passing day. She missed her family and friends. She missed Dean. She had made new friends, even the rude blue-eyed boy in her class that she saw was just as lonely as her. It wasn't the same. She knew that she could not leave, could not join Dean, until she got the future ready for them.

When Molly was 22 and Dean 23, the cracks started to show. They loved each other then as much as the day they parted. But life kept separating the couple. Their worlds had grown too different. Each felt like a part of them was missing the more they were apart. Both were so lonely. Dean filled himself with hunting and drinking. Molly filled hers by studying and caring for that brilliant idiot boy in class that she considered her friend.

When Molly was 23 and Dean 24, it all fell apart. Dean's father died, and he was ordered to kill his baby brother, one of the only people left that mattered in his life. Dean was falling apart at the seams and knew that not even his Molly could fix this. She shouldn't ever have too. It was then that Dean knew that he did not deserve her, and that she deserved to have a normal life.

Molly knew it was coming. The end. She could hear it in her lover's voice as he told her about his broken life. Molly didn't want it to end. How could she ever love another like she did him? She couldn't. So she waited for the crushing pain she knew was to follow soon.

It ended with an anguished and tearful, "I'm so sorry Molly. I can't, I just can't. "

"I know."

When she was 24 and he 25, it was all over. She had graduated, but no one was there. Her father had died only weeks before, and her mother and sister were stuck in a battle against the actual Devil to save the world. Her blue-eyed friend had been taken away to get help with his addiction by a loved one. She was all alone.

She had no idea that this would become her knew normal within the next decade.

And so life continued on, and Molly remained heart broken. She dated and dated, yet could find nothing as real as her first.

Then, her friend came back just as cold and mean as ever. Molly didn't mind. This bit of familiarity gave her something to hold onto. Even if he cut her over and over again with his words.

Then her family was finally wiped out for good, her sister and mother dead and her friend gone for however knows long to protect his loved ones and she was truly broken. And then, only then, was she reunited with him.

Years and years later, they were together again. And once more the two of them remembered why they fell in love in the first time. They spent months re-learning each other.

He couldn't give up hunting, couldn't leave that life behind. It was too much a part of him.

And she couldn't be a part of that life, she wasn't built for it. The life style had already taken so much from her, she couldn't take any more.

And like all good things, that too came to an end. This time though, it was done with peace in their hurting hearts. They couldn't last. They knew it this time and did not try to fight it, for it was the best.

So they parted ways, longing in their hearts but too much knowledge to act upon it.

And so her missing friend returned. He returned a different, wiser, kinder person. He returned with those eyes that looked at her with such tenderness and treated her with genuine affection.

He returned and fell in love with her.

She wanted to cry.

With time she grew to love him. Not in the way she should have. Not romantically. But she loved him as family. She had so little family left that she hung on with a death grip to those she had.

So when he asked for a relationship, she allowed it. When he proposed to her, she agreed with a heaviness in her chest that did not show on her face.

And when she closed her eyes as he kissed his bride, she saw glittering green eyes, tan skin with straight short blonde hair and the memory of the scent of his cologne and gun powder, and the texture of his leather jacket imprinted on her fingertips.

And for that brief moment she could pretend. She could pretend that everything was right and the way it should have been. That it was just her and Dean at the nearest justice of peace, ready to climb into the Impala and ride off to her mother's bar, a real hunter party awaiting them. They would get there, and her mother and sister would pull her to them and hug her tightly. Her mother probably would have threatened Dean to treat her right then bicker lightly with her father. Her father would probably cry, the big softie, and tell her how beautiful she is. Her sister would have offered them a drink and some naughty remark. His father would have clasped his shoulder and told him how proud he was of him, that he was happy for her to 'officially' be his daughter. And Sam would have been there teasing them both and congratulating them.

She could pretend that they would eventually sneaked off the 'christen' the Impala once more, as most of their first happened there, then ride off once more around the country. Just the two of them, open road behind them, going when and where they wanted to.

She could pretend that she was Mrs. Molly Winchester instead of Mrs. Molly Holmes.

Then the illusion shattered, and she was met with the roaring applause of their guests and her husband's glowing blue eyes. Her heart plummeted. Disappointment flooded her veins.

And as she sat there watching the perfect and beautiful reception day go on, she finally realized why she was so shaken.

This was the last of her dreams dying. That final, "I Do," hit home that this was it. She was married, but not to the one she had pictured for almost two decades. It was like swallowing shards of glass.

It was really over.

And Molly couldn't help but silently grieve for her disintegrated dream as it was finally bled out of her.

As Sherlock came back to her, she met his smile with a frailer one of her own, heart splintering and tears choking her.