So be it, I'm your crowbar
If that's what I am so far
Until you get out of this mess
Molly finishes changing the papers from the lab with a heavy heart, only warmed by the knowledge that she is helping Sherlock on a case. She approaches him and gives him what he needs, explaining that now all is as he wishes.
Sherlock smirks, barely looking at her again, a very different attitude from the one he had towards her when asking her for the favour.
Sherlock turns on his heels and disappears behind the door, leaving nothing but disappointment behind.
And I will pretend
That I don't know of your sins
Until you are ready to confess
But all the time, all the time
I'll know, I'll know
Molly holds Sherlock's head as he heaves once again and the syringe, still half-filled with the poisonous liquid, seems to be waving at her from across the room, laid on the floor.
Sherlock clutches at her clothes and Molly fights back the tears, knowing he needs her, strong, complete, lucid. Sherlock stares at her for a long time, pale face, huge eyes and Molly waits until he falls asleep in her arms, begging her to keep the secret, promising it is the last time.
And you can use my skin
To bury your secrets in
And I will settle you down
And at my own suggestion,
I will ask no questions
While I do my thing in the background
But all the time, all the time
I'll know, I'll know
Molly opens the door of her flat and Sherlock is standing there, soaked clothes, low head. He needs a place to hide from his brother, Lestrade and the whole world that seems to be against him, so Molly prepares her own bed with new sheets and from that day on it becomes his lair, the place he runs to when the world is being too heavy on him.
Molly never asks for more than the scent he leaves on her pillow and the promise of a return.
Baby-I can't help you out, while she's still around
So for the time being, I'm being patient
And amidst this bitterness
If you'll consider this-even if it don't make sense
All the time-give it time
No one answers her question and Molly wonders which dark secrets Sherlock hides, how does he know that woman by simply looking at her body, if it's to that stranger that he truly belongs.
Jealousy eats at her from the inside, and she feels at loss more than ever, because Sherlock was never hers to claim, never hers to lose.
When she thought Sherlock was a lonely soul, an empty heart, there was still hope. She isn't sure any more if that made it better or worse.
And when the crowd becomes your burden
And you've early closed your curtains,
The newspapers describe a Sherlock she doesn't recognise and Molly is angry and she wants to shelter him from the claws of the press, from all the lies they tell.
I'll wait by the backstage door
While you try to find the lines to speak your mind
And pry it open, hoping for an encore
Molly watches as a fake bloodied Sherlock walks in through the back door of St. Bart's and asks Mycroft to leave them both alone.
He approaches her and Molly can see how hard he finds to speak his heart, but the words are finally forming on his lips. There's thankfulness in the tone of his voice, and all of her doubts float away. She would have done it all over again.
He kisses her lips so lightly and when she opens her eyes he is already gone and she wonders if it was all a dream.
And if it gets too late, for me to wait
For you to find you love me, and tell me so
It's ok, don't need to say it
He is at her door again, but this time there is something different. Sherlock looks at his feet, struggling to spill his heart.
Molly nods and he knows that she understands the words he does not speak. The ring on her finger shines and Sherlock notices it, so he steps back and Molly wants to stop him but she can see the detachment already, she can see him covering the broken pieces of his heart.
Molly wants to ask him to stay, that she can change it all, but she doesn't.
And he leaves, once again.