Molly quickly loses herself to her thoughts as she watches the city zoom past her, resisting the urge to play with the ring on her finger when she thinks of how this whole thing with Greg started.

The first time they slept together came almost completely out of nowhere. After the godawful Christmas party and the horrible things that Sherlock said about her gift and appearance, Greg was kind enough to offer her a drink and a shoulder to cry on, which eventually lead to coffee at her place, where the venting became more emotional when the subject of his wife's affair came up. At some point things became awkwardly silent and it was almost painful. To this day she doesn't know why she did it or how she was even able to buck up the courage to do it, but she placed her cup down, moved to sit astride him and kissed him passionately.

"Molls," he said between kisses. "What are you doing?"

"Let's call it 'sympathy,'" she said, already feeling him swell between her legs. "I think we could both use some, don't you?"

After a long moment of thought, Greg nodded and kissed her and the rest of the night was spent in her place, where he made her come several times in one night. There was nothing romantic about it and it wasn't anything like a first time. It was rough and heated and left both of them covered in bruises and bite marks that would take days to heal. When it was over they both knew that it would happen again and it did.

Eventually, it became something of a pattern between the two of them to go to each other in a time of need, have sex and then move on as if nothing had happened. They never really put a label to it other than "sympathy."

Tonight she needs it more than ever if she's going to do what she's been planning all week.