Author's Note:

Hey! Oh my gosh, you have no idea how excited I am to know that there are actually people following this story! EEEPP! And thank you, megsterleigh, for being my first review! This is so cool! :D
Anyways, here's the second chaper!
Enjoy!

Molly stared at the morgue wall, unsure of what to think or feel at the moment. She'd just blatantly lied to her friends – Sherlock's friends – in a way that cruelly toyed with their emotions.

She'd just told them Sherlock was dead. He wasn't really, of course, but that's what made it so difficult. Had it been real, she would've been devastated, but she wouldn't be feeling this heavy weight of guilt that is currently on her shoulders. If it was real, she wouldn't have to live with the fact that John Watson, Sherlock's best friend, practically just had an emotional breakdown in her morgue, and it was caused by her two-word lie: "He's gone."
Now, he really was gone. Not dead-gone, obviously, more like out-of-the-country gone. She had done her part in keeping him & her other friends alive. She helped him fake his death and sent him off to God knows where. They decided it was safest she didn't know where he was, just in case.
She doesn't normally do this, help people pretend to die. But, it was Sherlock, and anytime Sherlock asked her for something, he got it. He was a weakness to her. All it took was one look into those eyes & she's willing to do whatever he needed, and he took advantage of that.
But, he still cared for her. He didn't want her to get hurt.
He had warned her about Moriarty, told her that her supposedly gay ex-boyfriend would probably end up in the morgue later that day. He didn't want her to be surprised if he did.

Even though she was thankful for the warning, in a way, she wished she didn't know. She didn't know if she could handle seeing him like that – she had a hard enough time with Sherlock looking all battered and dead, and it was fake. She didn't know how she'd react to seeing Jim like that.

Sure, she knew he was psychotic. She knew he was a murderer, that he used her to get to Sherlock, she KNEW that it was all fake, but no matter how hard she tried to get rid of him, he was permanently seared into her mind, and ultimately, he was permanently seared into her heart. She didn't see the murderous lunatic. She thought about him often, and, no matter what the news said, she still saw him as her Jim: the way his eyes lit up whenever he saw her, like she truly was something special. The way he smiled when he played with Toby, her cat. There was nothing about the Jim she knew that said "evil murderer." At least, not that see could see. She could be quite oblivious to important details.

She mentally and emotionally began to prepare herself, knowing that the body of her ex-boyfriend would be rolling through those doors any time now.

She was almost finished with the required paperwork necessary to make Sherlock legally dead when she heard the doors open. She turned, expecting to see a team of medics and/or police pushing a covered gurney. She gasped quietly as she saw those eyes, that smile, that man who was begrudgingly etched into her heart. Still living. Still breathing.
"Hello, Molly," he said, in a soft, kind voice.
She wanted to say so much, wanted to ask so many questions, but she also didn't want to speak to him at all. She wanted to run, but she also knew that he wouldn't, couldn't, hurt her
Instead of asking, or running, a single word escaped her lips:
"Jim?"