Molly adjusted her white lab coat, pulling on the left shoulder slightly to loosen it from her button up sweater underneath, as she entered the locker room at Barts. Her body moving through the room casted dark shadows against the pasty walls and color blocked lockers. The hours of daylight had long passed and her tiring from the monotonous routine of work provoked a sudden gasp when his dark curls and light skin, almost as pale as the walls, flecked into view on the mirror in front of her.

A modest smile graced her lips, the first one in what felt like months, but her words stuck to the back of her throat, unwilling to be heard.

"It's been a while, Molly Hooper," he spoke –his words cutting through the sterile hospital air like water through ice.

"Yeah-yes it has been," she replied trying to keep a steady tone while the sound of John's words bounced around her mind like a tennis ball in a frictionless vacuum. "More than that really, but I guess time flies when you are off saving the world."

"Odd comparison," Sherlock noted to himself before addressing Molly again. "But yes, I do suppose I was saving our world from Moriarty's network –parts of it perhaps."

"But that is finished with now, yeah? Everything is better now, all safe and sound, eh?" Molly asked somewhat rhetorically. Her eyes lit up a bit and she forced a smile, one she had forced many times over. Almost as many times as Sherlock had forced his own. The key was to look hopeful and Molly was nothing shy of optimistic.

"Yes," Sherlock drawled, hesitating for a second as he grimaced inwardly. "To my knowledge, the last of Moriarty's connections was disabled in Serbia no thanks to Mycroft," the last bit came out like a bitter taste on the tongue, but out it came none the less.

Molly pushed onward, ignoring Sherlock's reproachful stance. "Must be at least a bit pleased to be back, though. Less danger I suspect, but still interesting if you're lucky."

"I can only hope," Sherlock replied tutting to himself as he stared aimlessly beyond Molly. "Must be off though. I have a certain detective inspector to visit before he expects my presence."

"Yes. I see," Molly whispered to herself. "Let's hope for anything interesting, at least for Mrs. Hudson's sake of course."


Four Months Earlier...

John leaned over the marbled edge of Mary's kitchen countertop as he looked up hazily at Molly. She was balancing a fairly full glass of red wine, her nails clinking against the base, as it teetered back and forth.

"Is it genuinely wrong for me to be genuinely happy right now?" He asked Molly while reaching for the bottle to fill up his own.

Even in her less than sober state, Molly reacted quickly and pulled away the House Red knowing John would thank her in the morning.

John stood -or more so leaned there still pouting.

Molly sighed, choosing her words carefully. "There's nothing wrong with being happy about your relationship with Mary."

"I know, it just doesn't seem fair. Why do I get my happy ending when he doesn't!" John shouted out to an omnipresent being while spinning in a circle.

It was obvious who he was. He was the man that had saved the lives of all of his friends by faking his suicide. He was the man who had left his friends for almost two years already with no sign of a reappearance. He was also the man that trusted her the most. And it scared her almost as much as it thrilled every part of her being.

"It was his decision," Molly replied like a broken record, "I'm sure he had his motives. He made the jump. He was Sherlock Holmes for christ sake! He had everything figured out, one step ahead all the time."

John had zoned out halfway through her spiel and was talking to himself. "Where's your flipping happy ending now, huh? It never happened. It can't happen. Oh, you selfless bastard."

"John!" Molly placed her hand delicately over his shoulder to usher him to calm down.

"Sorry, Molly. It just feels so wrong. It could have ended so differently. The four of us would have been happy. Why couldn't he just do something for himself for once."

Molly paused mid sip nearly choking. "We weren't happy John. You don't know what would have happened. Things couldn't have continued on like that forever. At least the four of us couldn't have. It was high time I moved on anyway. You can't for one second believe that our friendship was functional."

John rolled his eyes, nearly making himself dizzy, but held on to make his point. "I'm not talking about before Molly." John scoffed rather loudly, producing a very effeminate hiccup in the process. "I'm talking about after, if there ever would have been an after…"

"After what exactly?" Molly questioned setting the empty glass down on the countertop.

"After that bloody idiot got over his hero complex and gave you a good snog." Molly needed another glass. "I mean, I told him right out multiple times that the staring and ogling from a distance wasn't healthy. But no, he absolutely wouldn't give himself anything. He wanted you to be safe. Apparently to him that meant going about like a petulant child, picking on the pretty girl in the school yard. Well, you know what? He lost his chance. He will never have his happy ending. And it just doesn't seem fair."

"He likes-liked me?" Molly asked, obviously not gathering much of anything else from John's soap box speech.

"Well yeah. Course. More than that I'd guess, although we didn't talk about it much… You alright there Molls? You're a bit pale."

"mhm," she replied turning away from John to hide the rush of emotions overcoming her face. One look at her now, she feared, would give the secret away.

She excused her self promptly following the conversation and wished for the billionth time over that she had someone to talk about this with. Of course, this would mark the first time she wanted to squeal over the situation with excitement as well as frustration.