'I need you'...
At his words her heart began to race, was this the confession that she had been dreaming of since his first day in the morgue?
The special blend of adoration and anticipation that she had recently perfected in regards to Sherlock must have been evident on her face since he suddenly coughed awkwardly.
'I need you to help me.'
Brilliant, absolutely brilliant she had once again miss-read the situation on an epic scale, her cheeks flooded with blood as she remembered to Coffee two sugars debacle.
'Of course' she managed to stammer out. No matter how many times he hurt her she would always help him.
They managed to come up with a plan; he knew that the last act in Moriarty's tragedy would be his suicide, the climax which would persuade even the most dubious that he was a fake. He had planned for it, obviously there would be a reason for him to jump, an incentive, and Moriarty knew that he loved himself too much to ever commit suicide. The conclusion: he would have to fake his own death. Ingredients: A fake corpse, a conveniently placed rubbish dump, and someone who was willing to tamper with the post mortem.
The plan went off without a hitch, well unless you count a broken hearted doctor and a bloodied sidewalk, and now everyone believed Sherlock was dead, everyone except for Molly. The funeral was planned for the following week and Molly was dreading it, seeing people mourning over a man she knew to be alive and well, knowing that with a few choice words from her their grief could be over. Yet she had to do, it was all for him and she would be the best actress ever.