Sherlock held the blanket tighter around him. He had much to do- papers to fake, new possessions to buy, an appearance to change- but that could wait for at least a little. He'd just died, after all.
The consulting detective was lost in his own, personal hell. All he could see were images of John's tear-streaked face. All he could hear were John's broken sobs.
"He's my friend! He's my friend!"
He'd known going into it that dying wouldn't be fun, or easy. But it had shocked him- it still shocked him- how terrible it was. He felt as broken as John had sounded. He couldn't understand it. Until now, he'd thought of John as a colleague, or maybe even a friend. But friends, he'd gathered, didn't feel this way about other friends. They didn't think of the coming months- years, even, depending on the circumstances- when they'd be apart, unable to see or speak to each other and feel this broken; they didn't feel as if their hearts were split in two; they didn't feel so alone.
"He'll be okay," Molly blurted out, breaking his reverie. "John. He'll survive."
"Does he feel like this, too?"
"Hmm?" Molly stared at him curiously.
"…Broken. Does he feel broken?"
"I… I'd think so."
"Can you make it stop? The brokenness?"
Molly sadly shook her head. "No. Only time can do that."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why everything!"
Molly was quiet for a moment, then she scooted up onto the counter, next to Sherlock. "It's going to be tough, Sherlock. It's going to hurt. For both of you. But this was the only way- you know that. And eventually, it'll stop hurting so much. But it's always going to hurt a little. That's part of caring about someone."
"Caring is stupid."
She smiled bitterly. "It is."
Sherlock stared at his hands in his lap. Finally, he spoke. "Thank you. For all of this. I couldn't have done it without you."
Molly blushed and looked away. "That… That means a lot."
"I know," Sherlock replied, meeting her gaze. His lips tilted up- more a grimace than a smile. "Caring is stupid."
She nodded. They were quiet again, then Molly piped up. "You really didn't realize, did you?"
"Realize what?"
"The way you looked at him. The way he looked at you. It was so obvious to the rest of us. But you didn't even know."
"Caring is stupid."
"Just because something's stupid doesn't mean people don't do it."
"It means I don't do it. At least… I thought not."
Molly reached out a hand, but thought better of it before she made contact. "Sometimes, though, it makes you happy. And when you remember the happy times, you realize they're worth the bad." There was a pause. A smile flashed across Sherlock's face and twinkled in his eyes. Molly spoke again. "You may not have realized it, but you two had something. In the happy times. The harder you denied it, the more we believed."
"You think John and I were… in love?"
"I know you are. Even if you don't."
He glared at her and hopped off the counter. "I think it's time I got down to business."
She handed the consulting detective the things he'd gathered before the fall. He stalked off into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Molly stood just outside.
"At least it's not the end. You'll still be able to see him."
"That's the problem!" Sherlock roared from behind the door. There was a rustling sound, and the man flung open the door. His eyes were fuller than they'd ever been, even tearing up. He felt like he would explode. "That's the whole bloody problem, Molly! I'll know. I'll be able to see how much he's suffering. And then, later, I'll be able to watch him forget all about me, until I don't matter any more. How, Molly, is that an upside?"
And suddenly, he'd collapsed into the woman's arms, sobbing. It was as though he was turning inside out. Never, in all his life, had he felt this much pain, because never, in all his life, had he let someone get this close. Molly simply held him until the tears subsided.
"Caring is stupid," Sherlock murmured. Then he disappeared back into the bathroom, hoping that his new identity might, for a moment, block out the pain of the reality he'd put himself in.