A short phone call is all she gets in lieu of a proper goodbye.
She doesn't ask him why he did it, she isn't that stupid after all. He's prepared to do anything in order to protect John, he's already proved it time and time again.
"I'm going to leave England, Molly," that's what he tells her, and she doesn't say anything at all.
This is goodbye, she knows that much; she doesn't expect him to come back, and from the undercurrent of sadness behind his tone she can tell that he doesn't either.
"Stay safe," she murmurs at length, her voice breaking ever so slightly.
It's only when he disconnects the call that a single tear slides down her cheek.
xxx
Life goes on, and she has no choice but to struggle on.
John's daughter is born early that spring; Molly's heart clenches painfully when Mary announces they've decided to name her Sheryl. Even Mycroft is there, which is quite unusual given the sort of man Sherlock used to claim his brother is.
"She's beautiful for a goldfish," Molly hears him mutter under his breath, and that's when he meets her gaze at last.
"You miss him, don't you?" she blurts out before she can check her tongue.
The man gives her a thoughtful glance, his fingers twitching around the handle of his umbrella. "Don't you?" he asks in turn, and a sad smile spreads over her features.
Both of them fall silent, their thoughts flying away to wherever Sherlock is at this moment in time.
xxx
A month later she walks out of the morgue to find Mycroft Holmes standing on the pavement, smoking a cigarette. It's raining, and London has never looked so miserable before.
All of a sudden a cold hand of fear clutches at her chest, she has to gather her strength before voicing the question that is dancing on the tip of her tongue.
"Something happened to Sherlock?" she whispers in a pleading tone, faintly relieved when Mycroft shakes his head.
"Not yet," he replies smoothly, and that's when she finally understands.
This man has had to send his little brother on a suicide mission as the only alternative to prison, but even he is not immune to brotherly compassion as he likes to pretend.
"Let's have a coffee, shall we?" she offers, and she fancies she catches the hint of a smile flashing across Mycroft's cold eyes.
They do not talk, but she's pretty sure they're drawing comfort from each other's presence. She only wishes that either of them could do something to save Sherlock from his impending fate.
xxx
MI6 agent on an undercover mission saves Prince Harry from certain death. It's all over the news, and a sense of foreboding hits her for no clear reason.
Later that day she receives a phone call from a screened number. It doesn't surprise her when she hears Mycroft's voice at the other end of the line.
"They're taking him back to England," the man announces in an even tone. "He's a hero now."
"How is he?"
There's a silence, long enough for her to start panicking. "He will be fine," Mycroft replies at length, clearly implying that he's not at this moment in time.
Oh, Sherlock, she thinks as she struggles against the lump that has settled in her throat.
John – he will fight for his life in order not to break John's heart. She clings onto this glimmer of hope until she starts breathing again.
xxx
He's back to Baker Street, and according to his friends he's mostly okay. It takes her a few days to make up her mind and show up at his flat, she's only marginally surprised to find Mycroft sitting in the living room.
"I'm perfectly fine, I tell you," Sherlock snaps at his brother, his statement immediately contradicted by the haunted look on his face.
She's about to turn on her heels and leave when Mycroft spots her. "I believe you have a visit, brother mine," he announces pleasantly, and Sherlock spins around to sweep his gaze over her.
"Molly," he says, and there's something about his tone that very nearly moves her to tears. The last few months must have been a hell of a nightmare for him, it's almost as if he can't quite believe he's back at last.
"I'll leave you two to it," Mycroft offers somewhat wryly, holding her gaze for just a moment before he leaves the room.
Molly turns her attention back to her friend, a nervous smile tugging at her lips. "It's good to see you again," she mutters, quickly trailing off when he slides a tentative hand along her forearm.
Next thing she knows he's wrapped around her smaller frame, his body trembling with all the emotions he's struggling to keep at bay.
He's not fine, that much is apparent; but she's fairly confident that between her and Mycroft they're going to see him through the worst of it. And John, of course – she mentally adds as she tightens her hold around him.