Months after Sherlock died, blahblahblah you'll get the rest. I really fucking hope no one reads this.

John stood on the corner of Baker St. with his leg propped up, flipping through a stray newspaper he had picked up from under the bench at the bus stop. Not that he was actually interested in current events. Nothing ever happened. He just wanted to look like he was doing something while he waited for Molly to arrive.

It was an odd thing they shared, he and Molly. They weren't together in the way one might imagine, but they still did things together. Dinner, movies, picnics, sex, things of the like. Not because they wanted to. It's to take their mind off other things that are too painful to think of.

John could hear approaching footsteps and knew they belonged to Molly, but he kept his eyes on the paper regardless and waited.

"Hello, John" she greeted, slightly apprehensive.

"Molly." he replied, acknowledging her without taking a single glance at her.

Ok, maybe one. With his head tilted down, he diverted his stare from the paper to her and gave her a half smile.

"What a Sherlock thing to do." She said, shifting uncomfortably, further pressing her lips together in a hard line. John chuckled and tossed the newspaper, then turned back to face her. Almost instantaneously, a warm smile spread across her face as she neared him and wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed. He did the same over her arms and shut his eyes. When she pulled away, he took her hand in his and told her what their evening plans were.

"It's nearing 7, so we should probably start heading for the restaurant. I got us reservations at ASK Italian." He explained, walking briskly. Molly's jaw dropped.

"You did not. Shut up, you didn't." Molly argued incredulously. She worked hard to keep up with John's quick pace and wide strides. She noticed this and pointed it out. "Sherlock used to walk just like that, you know?" She noted between light gasps. He stopped and glared at her.

"Molly, this is our evening. Let's not try to muck it up, ye?" His words were stern, but they failed to cover the pain, like a bandaid too small for the wound. She nodded slightly and reached out for him to take her hand once again. He stared at it for a good long while.

"C'mon now, it's not covered in disease." Her deep red lips curled up into a comforting grin. He relaxed and took her warm hand in his and interlocked their fingers. After a moment of silence, she asked "How much did that cost you?" She couldn't wrap her head around it. ASK Italian was extremely exclusive and very pricey.

"Well, long story. I went to the restaurant and requested a reservation for two. They asked who would be accompanying me, I said Molly Hooper, and they simply couldn't believe it. 'Such a fantastic girl, taking here to our restaurant? We'd be honored!' And that's how it happened" He looked down at her. Her cheeks had turned light pink.

"Oh shut it." She commanded, suppressing a smile. She ran her fingers gingerly through her hair, to put it back in place.

After 15 minutes of walking, they arrived.

Yupp, that's it.