Six months after they started dating, Sherlock told Molly about the Woman, the one he had identified that horrible Christmas by not-her-face. He held Molly's hands and reassured her that, despite being intrigued and slightly aroused by Irene Adler, he had not succumbed to her 'dinner' invitations.

Though still insecure about their relationship, Molly believed him. When he told her about how he had traveled to Karachi to save the Woman, Molly felt a twinge of fear knowing the Woman was still alive. Would Sherlock eventually tire of her and leave her for the dominatrix?

Sherlock deduced her thoughts and once more reassured her that, logically, she was his best match, her kindness and forgiveness softened his rude and blunt demeanor. He hadn't told her he loved her, but Molly felt reassured that he wanted her more than Irene Adler.

Until the one night Molly had returned home early and their relationship was destroyed.

She had been away, attending a pathology conference for the weekend. Unfortunately, the key note speaker fell ill and the replacement was mediocre, at best. After suffering through Saturday's lectures, Molly decided to abandon the conference entirely and return to London.

She smiled to herself, excited about the unexpected free day she now had to spend with Sherlock. His last text, from Friday morning after she left, was a long complaint of being bored and having no cases.

It was getting dark out when the cab pulled up to 221 Baker Street. Molly paid the cabbie and grabbed her bag as she climbed out. She unlocked the door and made her way upstairs, trying to be silent and surprise Sherlock.

She slipped inside the open door and looked around, frowning at the empty room. Sherlock's Belstaff was flung over a kitchen chair, so clearly he was home. Molly glanced down the hall and saw the closed bedroom door. Assuming he was sleeping (God knows, the man needed to more than he actually did), she set her bag on the floor and toed off her shoes, shuffling toward the bedroom.

She turned the knob slowly and slipped inside the small opening, turning and closing the door quietly behind her. With a smile on her face, she turned around and stepped into the room.

Her eyes fell on the man sleeping peacefully, his bare chest rising and falling with each breath.

Wrapped in the arms of a naked woman.

Molly's heart stuttered to a stop and her body flushed cold, as though she'd been dunked in ice water. Her heart began to thud painfully and loudly in her ears, as she realized what she was seeing. She clasped her hands over her mouth and she let out a distressed sob, her feet refusing to turn her from the sight.

Sherlock stirred at the sound and opened bleary, unfocused eyes. He turned his head toward her and smiled sleepily. When tears fell from Molly's eyes, he awoke fully and began to sit up.

'Molly, what's-' He stopped and frowned in confusion at the weight pressed against his side. As he turned his head to see, Molly regained control of her legs and fled, flinging the door open and stumbling into the kitchen.

'Molly!' Sherlock shouted. Molly ignored the panic in his voice as she desperately tried to put her shoes on, her trembling hands refusing to cooperate. Tears trailed down her face as she sobbed openly.

Sherlock dashed into the kitchen, wearing only his pants. His curls were in disarray and his eyes wild as he rushed to her side. He reached out to stop her, but she slapped his hand away.

'Don't touch me!' She shrieked. Sherlock stepped back, his face changing between stoic and vulnerable.

'Molly, it's not what it looks like,' he claimed.

Molly ignored him, all her fears and doubts about his feelings for her evidenced by the woman currently sleeping in their bed. She would never be enough for him, never be anything more than plain, common Molly Hooper. She grabbed her bag and turned to leave.

'Molly, be reasonable.'

Her hand gripped the doorknob painfully. Slowly, she released it and turned around. Her anger overcoming her tears, she hissed, 'Reasonable? Reasonable?! Like Hell! You slept with another woman!' She screamed at him.

'Just slept,' he stepped toward her.

'And she's naked because…?' Molly snorted derisively and backed up.

Sherlock shifted slightly, a flash of hurt across his face when she retreated from him, 'She likes to make people uncomfortable.'

'And 'she' would be?'

He hesitated, averting his eyes.

Molly gasped in realization. Irene Adler. Her heart, already broken, shattered into a thousand shards of sorrow. She felt her anger melt away as she realized she never stood a chance. Why settle for a common, plain pathologist when the stunningly beautiful and clever dominatrix wanted you?

He never told her he loved her because all along he'd only loved the Woman.

'Why?' She rasped, sorrow suffocating her.

Sherlock frowned, 'Why what?'

Molly took a deep, trembling breath, 'Why be with me when you can have her? And why… why lie to me about her?'

Of all the things she expected to see on his face, disbelief was not one of them. He seemed to be genuinely shocked by her question. Molly looked down at her shoes, twisting her bag strap as she waited for a response.

'No explanation?' She finally mumbled.

'There's nothing I could possibly say to convince you otherwise.'

He's right. The only thing I ever needed him to say, the only reason I would stay, is the one thing he will never say.

Leaving her broken and battered heart at his feet, she fled.

John held Molly tightly as she poured out the entire story. As soon as she finished, Mary jumped up from her seat and stormed toward the door.

'Mary, where are you going?' John exclaimed in surprise.

Mary shot him a glare as she shoved her arms into her coat, 'I'm going to shoot that son of a bitch, and this time I won't miss anything vital.'

'Mary, please.'

Molly's quiet request halted the blonde's angry movements. She raised her eyebrow, 'Can I at least make it impossible for him to cheat on anyone ever again?'

John squirmed in his seat as Molly huffed a laugh at her friend's implications. 'Thank you, but I'd rather focus on moving on, not revenge.'

Mary shook her head and hung her coat back on the rack, 'You'd make a lousy assassin, Hooper.'

'So, permanently injuring him is out. What about a nice pummeling?' John offered with a cheeky grin.

Molly smiled tremulously and pretended to think about it. She shook her head, 'No. Even though he probably deserves it, I don't want there to be problems between the two of you.'

John nodded, but Molly could see in his face he had no intention of obeying her request. And the way Mary's hands clenched and unclenched indicated she would be an active participant in said pummeling.

The Watsons stayed for a while longer, to make sure their friend would be okay. They made plans to visit the following day and bring their daughter along.

As they climbed into their car after bidding Molly farewell, they each struggled to control their anger over Sherlock's betrayal of their friend. John felt betrayed on two counts, having been unaware that Irene Adler was alive and that Sherlock was responsible for saving her. He jammed his keys into the ignition and jerked the car into traffic.

'Baker Street?' Mary spat, practically seething beside him.

John nodded firmly, 'Baker Street.'