So this is my first attempt at fanfiction and well I hope it's not to bad. I don't have a beta reader of anything but I hope you like it. ^_^
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and am not affiliated with BBC Sherlock in any form.
It had been almost six months since Sherlock Holmes had apparently commited suicide; however, while most of the world believed the raven haired consulting detective to be dead, two individuals knew otherwise. Mycroft Holmes and Molly Hooper, the latter of the two had conflicting feelings regarding the situation. Molly Hooper was wracked with guilt, anger and sadness, yet in spite of all this she had a small flicker of happiness. Simply because Sherlock was alive. Mycroft had helped of course. It was he who whisked his brother to some secure location and made sure the other man had stayed below the radar.
Molly who had rolled out of bed sometime near five, which was early even for her had spent the last fours hours doing various things. Such as making breakfast, playing with Toby, picking up her flat and even filling out some paperwork left over from the night before. However when the clock read ten Molly made her way to the shower and couldn't help but let out a pleasurable sigh when the scalding water hit her skin. The hot water washed away the knots and stress in her body and forced her to relax. That is until the water ran cold and Molly had to all but jump out the freezing liquid.
After washing Molly set about getting dressed and just when she pulled on her favorite green cardigan there came a light rapping on her front door. Molly a bit confused at the knocking opened that door. Although a tad bewildered as to why he was here at eleven instead of twelve she was none the less pleased to see John Watson standing in her doorway. "Hello Molly." he said a sad smile on his lips. It was times like this when John was so obviously forcing a smile that the guilt ate at her the worst. He was just so empty and sad. Very little of the man she knew remained and standing in his place was a shadow.
He just went through the motions and avoided anything that would reminded him of Sherlock. Which was extreamly difficult when you live in a flat full of his belongings. No one could blame him of course. He believed his best friend had killed himself just six months ago. Mrs. Hudson had taken it upon herself to help John by forcing him out to lunch with Molly. Mrs. Hudson feared that if she didn't he may never leave the flat.
Molly returned the smile before moving aside and waving him into her small but cozy flat. "Hello John, you're here early" she remarked as she watched him make his way to the faded blue chair that could only be truly described as his. Before their bi-weekly lunches no one had ever sat there it had just been there for decoration.
"Ah yes well, I start work today." he said sinking into the soft cushion.
Molly stood in shock for a moment before regaining her senses; however, this did not stop her hands from rising to wring themselves together and her eyes to grow wide in surprise..and concern. He hadn't mentioned going back to work. Not that it should be such a surprise after all one could not maintain that flat on an army pension even with the lovely discount Mrs. Hudson had given him. Still the thought worried her.
"Really? Are-" here she paused trying to get her voice to level itself and when she felt she had completed this she began again. "John are you sure your ready?" she asked her voice soft but stil laced with a very obvious amount of concern.
John noticing this gave her a small and almost reassuring smile."Thank you Molly, for worrying about me but, I'll be fine. I need to get back to work. It will be a distraction. I need a distraction."
Molly bit at the soft skin of her lips and raised her eyes from her twitching hands to those of Doctor John Watson. "Tea then?" she questioned. John nodded and within moments Molly had put the kettle on and had arranged some biscuits Mrs. Hudson had baked for her onto a small plate. They were for show really. They never ate or drank more then a sip or two at these lunches of theirs. In fact the would usually sit there,stare at random objects awkwardly and if the day called for it they would talk.
It seemed that today happened to be one of those days. After handing John his tea and taking a seat in the matching chair opposite him they talked. Mostly it was small unimportant things. They talked about his new job, her massive amount of paperwork and their mutual interests. However this peacful conversation soon took a drastic turn.
John who had fixed his eyes onto the steaming liquid residing within the chipped tea cup had fallen silent.
"Molly.." he said softly. So softly she almost missed it. "Molly how did you do it?" he questioned his voice soft and laced with an unmistakable hint of sorrow. For a moment her heart stopped. Had he figured out it out? Had he realized her lie?
Johns blue orbs met hers. "How did you survive? You survived the lies and humiliation Moriarty put you though and you survived Sher-" here his voice cracked but he soon continued "Sherlock. You endured his attitude and put up with him, I suppose you could say it was because you loved him. Don't deny it we both know its true but now he's gone and your standing strong. You haven't shed a tear since the funeral and you have survived while I..while I crashed."
At his words Molly visibly relaxed but the light sheen of tears could be seen in her doe-like eyes. "You are right. I did love him, still do actually." She chuckled halfheartedly. "I'm not strong John, I never have been. I just..you could say I'm accustomed to death and to being fooled. What Sherlock and Moriarty did well..it's always been that way" Molly stood abruptly and grabbed the full cups of cooling tea from the table. "Peckish?" she questioned her voice scratchy as the words hurriedly left her lips.
As she moved to pass him, One of Johns large calloused hand shot out and firmly but gently wrapped around her small wrist. Molly looked down at the blue orbs which were fixed on hers. Her vision was cloudy with tears that threatened to fall. "It's okay Molly..it's okay to cry." he said softly as if she were a small frightened animal that needed to be soothed and as she saw tears prick at the corners of the mans eyes and a small sad smile ghost his lips Molly collapsed into a heap upon the floor. Tea spilled everywhere and hot salty tears coursed down her face. Every tear she had held back since Jim flooded from her eyes in thick streams. She didn't cry for Sherlock, no her tears were out of guilt, anger, and self-loathing. She cried for what she had helped do to John. She cried for her part in his pain, her involvement in hurting a man who had never been anything but kind to her. As her tears fell the strong arms of the ex-army doctor wrapped around her and this embrace,this tenderness only caused the tears to fall harder.
It wasn't till an hour later when the crying had stopped and John had left for work that Molly was able to fully pull herself together. Her eyes burned still but, she felt as if a small amount of the weight which had been suffocating her had been lifted. With a glance at the now tea stained rug Molly let out a bitter laugh as she got down to inspect the damage; however, she saw Toby tentatively licking at the small pool of tea still within one of the chipped cups but, before she could even begin to truly appreciate the adorable act there once again came a small knocking at her door.
Molly who assumed that it was John coming back for something he had left behind, was utterly speechless when she opened the door.
Instead of the kind doctor standing in her doorway, there leaning rather languidly against the door-frame, was a dark-haired man with a devilish smirk spread across his face. Jim Moriarty ran a quick glance over the pathologist and she could see the gleam of dark amusement in his eyes. "Hello there Molls. Miss me?"