Once upon a time, there was a young girl. Little Molly Hooper was quiet and sweet and shy, always trying to pick up as much information as possible while keeping her head down at the same time. She grew up in a peaceful neighbourhood, entertaining herself not with dolls and tea parties and dress-up, but with experimentation. She was always taking notes and reading books to learn more about whatever she needed to. Naturally, all of this studying at such a young age produced a very smart, talented young girl. She went to college at Uni, majoring in pre-med. Rather than being friends with everyone there, she became close friends with a few certain people. One of these people was Sherlock Holmes.

The friendship between Miss Hooper and Sherlock was an interesting subject to several people, for more reasons than one. Sherlock was a genius and hated everyone, always impressing people as he insulted them. The fact that Molly had actually formed a positive relationship between him was quite fascinating. He was also a drug addict. Little Molly Hooper, who, even by the time of college, hadn't come out of her shell, was fast friends with a drug addict.

Rather than his habits rubbing off on her, Sherlock being around Molly had quite the opposite effect. Molly had a strong influence on Sherlock. All it took was one glance from her to get him to shut up, smile more, stop slouching, or to "stop being a prick, Sherlock." It took a little more from her to get him to stop with the drugs, but, to her, it was well worth the effort.

Molly couldn't be there for him all the time, though. Her mother grew deathly ill and Molly took temporary leave to go and visit her for what might have been the final time. Despite her efforts to stay in contact with Sherlock, in the month that she was gone he stopped contacting her. When she finally returned, he was nowhere to be found.

She had gone back into her dorm, only to find a dusty note on the bed that read:

My dearest Molly,

Do not try to find me. Hopefully, you will understand the importance of this step in the plan and not try to find me. If you are reading this, then nobody there has noticed my absence in the last month, which is excellent. I have left college. Do not try to find me.

Fondest memories, Sherlock Holmes

She had, of course, disregarded his warning and gone off to find him. It took her a while, but eventually she was able to drag him out of the drug den he had apparently been living at for the past several weeks and get him cleaned up. She never figured out what he meant by his 'plan' or why he had left in the first place. Her only conclusion was that he was high when he wrote it.

Years passed. Sherlock and Molly both graduated. Molly began working at St. Barts, and Sherlock became a detective. Both of Molly's parents died. Molly developed a little 'crush' on Sherlock, which made him uncomfortable enough to remove her from his list of close friends. Now she was merely a casual acquaintance, not even meeting the level of 'peer'. She dated around a little bit, but never got into a serious relationship. She remained the quiet one. Sherlock remained a prick. He faked his own suicide, and during that time she got into a more serious relationship and then got engaged. Sherlock came back, and, within two months she was single again. Mixed signals came from every angle, and she stood straight and tall without a word.

She was terribly depressed, but wouldn't have admitted it for anybody's world. Not a person saw through her. Nobody tried to help her, or accept her. Nobody loved her, and nobody would have noticed her if she disappeared. Nobody knew what she had gone through. Nobody except for one person.

And that's where our story begins.