Hello, gosh I'm writing this quickly… Well I just want to warn you that this chapter contains suicidal themes. Please enjoy. ShellyMay

"Sherlock..." Molly breathed as he walked into the lounge room. Initially he thought it was the cut on his cheekbone that had her so worried then he observed her. She'd been crying, her eyes and nose puffy and red, still weeping slightly. One of his shirts on, a common occurrence as he bulked up too much to fit them and she sought out a comfort in them he failed to provide. Tissues scattered on the coffee table and the small bin next to it. The phone still clutched tightly in her hand.

"Molly, what is it?" He asked trying and failing to think of what would get her so worked up.

"Greg called today. He was worried about me. About how I was holding up. God Sherlock, he sounded scared, so I asked him what was, what was wrong." She spoke shakily. Fresh tears were forming. "It was about John. That's what scared him so much Sherlock. John's been hospitalized."

"By who?" Sherlock ground out, he'd kill whoever laid a hand on his best friend.

"Well, Greg said that he's doing much better now, and that they're keeping him on observant-"

"Who did it to him Molly?" Sherlock growled forcefully.

"John." It was all she could think of saying. The look in Sherlock's eyes petrified her making her stumble to get the words out. "John, he had his gun. Was going to kill himself. Mrs Hudson and Greg, they were visiting him, made him stop. Greg had to drag him to the hospital. He's in the psych ward now. He's going to go back to his councillor. He'll have people looking after him."

"Why?" Sherlock looked lost now, confused. In the past he had contemplated it himself, of course he had. When the world was too loud, too bright, it often seemed the only way to dull everything. To make everything stop. But John, John was strong. Brave. He was a soldier. Why would he do that?

"Oh Sherlock," Molly breathed curling in on herself on the couch. "Don't you see, he's lost his purpose. Before you, he was dealing with this as well. Then you came into his life, and he was the soldier again. He had something to live for. Now you're gone. He's been diagnosed with severe depression and put on medication Sherlock."

"I never realized that I could mean that much to someone." Sherlock said slumping down next to her.

His head snapped to look at her again as she touched his shoulder. "Sherlock Holmes, you listen to me. You don't just mean that much to one person. You mean that much too so many people. John, Mrs Hudson, Greg, myself, heck even Anderson is convinced you're coming back. Although I don't know if that means he's sorry or can't deal with the fact that he was wrong about you." She stopped and looked him in the eye, when she was satisfied she stood and walked into the bathroom fetching the first aid kit. "Now, let me look at that cut."

Sherlock let her fuss over him. Before standing and making them both a cup of tea. They drank in relative silence before Molly moved over to the window and picked up his new violin. "Play something please."

He stood by the window and began to play the composition he'd been making about his new life aware that molly was moving around behind him, tidying up and organizing folders and the computer for him to look at once he'd finished playing. She then moved to the kitchen and took two bowls out of the fridge to reheat.

He was at a particularly calm part of the piece, inspired by his pathologist when Molly came back to the lounge room with their dinner. It was soft and comforting with strong and confident tones streaked through it. The song slowly changed into one he had once composed about John this however was now tainted by longing and sadness as guilt twinged in his chest.

"That's new. Sherlock, it's lovely." She said as he put the instrument down and joined her. He didn't particularly want to eat but picked at his food and eating only a small amount to make Molly feel better. He had to admit, while living with her eating more often had made him much stronger, benefiting him as it made his mission much easier in some respects when it came to taking down the network and gathering information.

"It's my life." He said simply, spooning rice and chicken into his mouth.

"What?" He smiled at her confused look.

"I'll play it for you and see if you can pick out the different parts." He told her putting his plate down and moving back to the window.

"Oh, that's the violent parts of your life," She said straight away making him smile. "And the times when you're bored, or can't do something for a while." She frowned at the part of the song inspired by her. When he'd finished playing again she looked at him with big doe eyes and asked "Was that John?"

"Three out of four Molly, you left your part out." He said looking at her softly. He started playing the notes he had dedicated to her before turning his back to stare out of the window. Not surprised when she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind.