Okay, I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the support I received on this story. Originally, it was going to just be a one-shot, but because Almightyswot posted a thing about it, saying she thought it would be good to do chapters based on John and Sherlock's perspective, because this doesn't just affect one person. I agree, so, here is the next part...as told from John's perspective. (still third person telling, but yea...you get it.)

Again, I own nothing, and if you are sensitive to any of the triggers such as cutting and/or suicide, please do whatever you need to to not get upset, even if that means not reading. I understand. Trust me, I do.

K, next chapter:

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Had he known what his words would lead her to do, John Watson never would have said them. Ever. Truth be told, he hand't really meant to be so harsh and angry with her. He was hurt, yes. But truly angry, no. How could he be? Molly had saved his best friend's life. She was an angel, and he treated her like she was the devil himself. John walked into the lab, bumping past the small pathologist.

"Sorry." She muttered quietly, before swiftly walking down the hallway and out of sight. John shrugged dismissively, and soon joined his friend. It was quiet, but peacefully so. He had so missed watching Sherlock work, his quick mind swiftly unraveling the next puzzle presented to it.

"So, I was thinking of getting take-away later on. Do you plan on eating today? I hate to...ya know...have you starve or something." He had attempted the joke a few different ways now, but it never felt okay. Not yet, if ever.

"Yes John, I will eat." Sherlock replied stoically, his hand reaching over to grab another dish of microbes to inspect. His hand brushed up against a folded piece of paper, which gracefully fell to the floor. While its descent was missed by the clever man, it did not go unnoticed by the army doctor. John reached down and picked it up, unfolding it to read the contents. Immediately, he knew what it was, and more importantly, whose it was. 'No. No, not again. Not her.'

"Sherlock, what did Molly say before she left?" John's voice was insistent, forceful.

"Just goodbye." Came the reply. John pulled his friend away from the microscope. This earned a scowl from the man, and he ignored it.

"No, Sherlock, not 'just' goodbye. How did she sound? How did she look? It's never 'just' anything with you. What did you deduce about her?" he begged for information.

"John, she said, 'Goodbye, Sherlock.' Of course, she was her usual, quiet self, and then just...left." John watched as Sherlock came to a similar conclusion. Molly didn't say goodbye. She would give her own dismissal, sure. A kind departing word, but never an outright 'goodbye'. Sherlock tore the note away from John's hands, and read over it quickly. Before the shorter man could react, his counterpart was out the door, racing down the hall that their petite friend had wandered earlier. Soon, John's body allowed him to move, following after the tall detective.

He finally caught up, though they hadn't traveled very far. The first thing he saw, after looking past a kneeling Sherlock, was red. Sure, it wasn't pouring out onto the floor, but that didn't deter from the fact that a small girl ('No, not a girl, despite how tiny she looks in Sherlock's arms') was streaked with fresh lines of scarlet. John followed closely behind Sherlock as he rushed to A&E, Molly carefully curled against his chest. The entire way, the detective muttered his thoughts. Some of John's thoughts.

"Why would you do this, Molly? Why? Don't you see? Don't you know? I told you. Why won't you believe me?" A seemingly endless mantra to the quickly fading life in his arms, Sherlock prayed quietly to his angel, until he finally passed her into the hands of the emergency nurses.

"You stupid, stupid woman. What have you done to my Molly?" As they watched her being whisked away, Sherlock's knees gave out from under him, John barely able to catch him before he fell to the floor.

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It had been two days. Of course take-away had been forgotten, as had food of any kind really. The doctors had wanted to keep her in isolation, put her on 24-hour watch. However, Sherlock had insisted it was unnecessary, as neither of them were leaving her side anytime soon. Two days, plenty of time for John to think about the situation, and worse still, his part in it.

"I can't believe you, Molly!" He had been hurt as Sherlock revealed the truth behind his plan, the truth that Molly had hidden this from him. 'She knew, and she did nothing to stop the pain!' His mind screamed, giving him the fuel for the fire of his sudden anger at her.

"John, I..." She had started, wanting to explain to him. As he sat in the chair by her bedside, a very weary John looked at himself in a more shameful light. 'Why couldn't I just let her explain?'

"No, Molly. I don't want to hear a damn word you have to say. You lied and betrayed my trust. You are a terrible person, and ...and...I just...I can't talk to you right now." He replayed the horrible things back in his mind, wondering how many of the cuts on her delicately pale skin were there because of him.

A sudden blip of the heart monitor made him look up. Molly's eyes were half opened, obviously showing she was under the influence of the strong sedatives they had given her. John was never so relieved to see someone waking up. 'Tell her. Tell her now.' He instructed himself.

"Oh, Molly. I am so sorry I got angry. I'm so, so sorry." Were the first jumbled words to leave his lips. As soon as she gave him that sweet smile, he crumbled. 'I don't deserve to have such a wonderful friend.' John looked over her bandaged injuries, just as she whispered to him about the pain. He stood, promising to fetch the nurse. As soon as he left the room, the doctor managed to grip the wall beside him, preventing him from collapsing entirely. 'She's going to make it. But she's not okay. God, how do I help her with this? I'm a wreck myself. Come on, John. Set aside your own bloody problems. Molly needs you.' The soldier in him pressed his body up and away from the wall, and he walked to the nurse's station.

"I'm going to make it up to you, Molly. I promise." He stated quietly.

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And there's that chapter. Let me know what you think. If you have issues with these things, and have decided to read this story anyway, and need to talk, I am always here. Anyway, there's that. Another chapter should be up in a day or so...schedule permitting. K, I love you all so much, and again, I know I've been negligent on my shout outs, but I really DO appreciate each and every one of you. Life gets a bit busy, and I can't type fast enough. Just know I love you all very much. K?