The More the Merrier
It had been three years since the Fall of Sherlock and his legacy. Within in that first lonely year, John struggled. He began to build a wall around himself to protect him from ever getting close to anyone ever again. He never went out of the house anymore, turning to a bottle of whiskey instead of his friends for help; he always kept the bottle close at hand for those silence nights where his thoughts to bring him back to reality. Nearly going broke, he went back to the hospital to work as a doctor. Molly, who had been working in the hospital morgue, notice John growing weaker as his first week went on. One night, after working late at the hospital, John had crossed her mind many times, she worried. She decided it was time to see John after what had happened to both of them.
Molly knocked only once before the door opened by itself. Surprised she began calling for her friend. Finding no answer in the darkness she made her way to the living room to wait for him. There she found a trail of whiskey and pills leading to John's motionless body. Without hesitation, she began thrusting her fingers down his throat. "C'mon John, not like this." With every motion of her hand, Molly sobbed, hoping her friend would come back . " John, please," she begged " please come back!" After a few minutes, John began to vomit. Relieved, she hugged her friend and cried into his trembling body.
"You… you saved me," John cried, "you saved me." Molly wept into John's chest holding his weak body in her arms.
"Don't you dare ever do that to me again!" She cried.
Since that awful night, John and Molly became close friends. They started chatting on their breaks together, eating lunch together and as the months went on they began to date each other. John knew that Molly was the only person who could possibly understand what he had gone through. They were made to be together. A year from the night that John tried to kill himself, they spent the night at his apartment watching a movie. Molly went to go and pour the tea but when she was surprised to find John not sitting on the couch. Instead, he was kneeling on the very spot where she had found his cold body a year ago.
"Molly," he said, but he didn't need to Molly knew what was coming, "a year from this very night, you saved my life. Not only that but you saved me from years of loneliness and hating myself. I want every night to feel like that, you saving me. So, will you… will you marry me?"
Surprised, Molly ran crying tears of joy into her fiancés arms. "Oh God yes John! Yes!" she cried!
It was three years since Sherlock's fall, and all was normal. Molly was eight months pregnant now, staying at home, painting the baby's room awaiting their arrival. John wanted the baby's gender to be a surprise, so Molly waited patiently for their son or daughter to enter this world. Daydreaming as she painted, Molly didn't see John wrap his arms around her from behind, lifting her from off the ladder and into his arms. He planted a light kiss on her cheek.
"Are you sure this colour is good for a girl too?" John questioned Molly as he pecked at her neck. She pushed him away, but in return gave him a kiss on the cheek. The color was a pale, dark blue that made Molly's eye brighter with every stroke.
"Yes of course girls love blue!" She laughed, "Beside, I got the inspiration when I was moving the boxes." After many months of persuasion, John had agreed to turn Sherlock's room into the baby's room. It made him sad to let a part of his dear friend go, but it had to have been done. Molly wanted John to remember Sherlock in a healthy way, of course she missed him too but not to the point that John was at. When Molly first moved in with John, she noticed how everything remained the same. Sherlock's clothes, newspapers, files and notes stayed where they were and were not to be touch. Even his jacket and scarf were hung up in the closet where they had always been. She began to help John move on and remember Sherlock for the memories he left and not his possessions. John never really talked about his deceased friend anymore; he hasn't spoken of him for almost as long as the news of the baby.
John began to move around the boxes to find what made Molly pick this familiar colour. Shifting around in a dark paper bag, his fingers met with the cold fabric. His eyes widen as he pulled the blue cloth into the light.
John wanted to die, more than that night that Molly found him. He wanted to forget what he had done to him. John wanted to die.