Chapter 4: Molly
Molly Hooper was nervous. That's not an emotion typically associated with funerals; those would be grief, depression, pity, or guilt. But Molly wasn't a typical funeral attendee, not in this situation. Everyone in that room thought it was a real funeral, except for her and Mycroft. Technically speaking, it was a real funeral, because Sherlock was legally dead—she herself had declared it. But she and Mycroft knew the truth.
She remembered the moment Sherlock asked for her help; it was etched permanently in her memory. She'd told him if he needed anything, he could have her, but she never expected he'd take her up on that offer, especially not like this. He'd told her he thought he was going to die. Her thoughts immediately jumped to some terminal illness he wanted an experimental treatment for, and then to drugs. But Sherlock's request took her completely by surprise. He wanted her help in faking his death.
He'd explained to her exactly why it needed to happen, but she didn't particularly care about that. She wanted to know what she needed to do, and why he wouldn't tell John. Her job was simple enough: obtain the corpse of his doppelganger that Moriarty had used, and ensure the records listed Sherlock Holmes as dead. He'd explained that the whole business was top secret, that nobody except her, Mycroft, his parents, and a select few members of the homeless network would know the truth. She, Mycroft, and the homeless network were necessary to the plan, but his parents would be told so they wouldn't fret.
"Sherlock, John's going to freak out. Probably even more than your parents would," she'd reminded him.
"It's too dangerous if he knows. We need to keep potential weak links in the coverup to a minimum. He might go letting on," Sherlock had replied.
"But Sherlock, he cares. This will break him."
"Please, my death won't affect him so drastically. By then, he'll believe me a fraud and a liar. Besides, his reaction will make everything that much more believable. John's not that good an actor," Sherlock had explained haughtily.
Molly had wanted to contradict him, to tell him that John was his best friend and he would be crushed if Sherlock committed suicide right in front of him, but she'd held her tongue. When Sherlock had his mind set on something, it was futile to argue with him. So she'd gone along with his plan, and had watched John Watson crumble.
It physically hurt her to see him mourning when she could alleviate his pain just by telling him the truth. But she'd promised Sherlock, and she wasn't one to go back on her promises. So she sat in the funeral home listening to the sounds of grief that surrounded her and attempting not to look too aloof. She hadn't wanted to come, hadn't trusted her acting skills enough to not get her into trouble, but Mycroft had forced her. She had to admit he was right; if she didn't come, it would be suspicious. The elder Holmes had reminded her that if Sherlock really died, she would drop everything to come to his funeral, and everyone who knew her and her relation to Sherlock would expect this. She only hoped nobody suspected her.
Glancing around the room, everyone was too absorbed in their own sorrow to notice her lack of emotion. But as the ceremony progressed, she didn't have to worry about seeming indifferent anymore. Greg Lestrade stepped up to speak, and tears slipped from Molly's eyes the second he opened his mouth. As he spoke, she understood what it would really be like to lose a friend to suicide. It was something she hoped she never had to endure.
If Lestrade's speech had made her emotional, there were no words to describe the pure agony John' eulogy evoked deep inside her. She knew he cared about Sherlock and would be affected by this tragedy, but the full scope of his despair was frightening to witness. It took all of her willpower not to sprint up there and give him a great big hug. She wished Sherlock could see this, see evidence that John Watson couldn't live without him. At least not a life worth living.
Sherlock could be so silly sometimes with his ignorance of other people's feelings. For someone as observant as him, he could be so blind. Molly had seen firsthand the lengths John was willing to go to protect Sherlock, and Sherlock for John. How Sherlock couldn't see that his best friend cared for him deeply was a mystery to Molly. Or maybe his reluctance to tell John had been a sign of how much he does care. Even if he wasn't really dying, he was going away for a really long time—nobody knew exactly how long it would take to dismantle Moriarty's network—and he would miss John. And it was dangerous work; Sherlock would be throwing himself deep into the inner workings of nefarious criminal organizations. There was a chance this mission would prove fatal. Maybe he hadn't told John to ensure the doctor wouldn't anxiously await his return, only for that day to never come. This way, if he never came back, John would accept it and move on with his life.
However, Molly didn't see any signs that John would be able to move anywhere in the near future. After he finished speaking, he'd almost had to be carried back to his seat, where he promptly collapsed against Lestrade, sobbing. Molly had never lost a close friend before, and while she would undoubtedly be upset, she didn't think she'd feel this sheer agony. It was truly a testament to John's friendship with the great detective.
The rest of the ceremony was conducted in the cemetery; Mycroft had, of course, arranged a plot in the place where his and Sherlock's grandparents were buried. Molly considered leaving before she accidentally let something slip—she was certainly not notorious for being tight-lipped—but decided against it. Nobody leaves a funeral early.
But as the (empty) casket was lowered into its hole, she sincerely wished she had left. John's screams would haunt her every waking moment for the rest of her life. She couldn't bear to watch as he struggled against Lestrade's grip. If the DI hadn't been clutching him so tightly, Molly feared he would've hurled himself into the grave and let himself be buried along with what he thought was Sherlock's body. At the rate things were going, Molly worried he'd become so depressed that he considered suicide, even potentially went through with it. What a tragedy that would be, if Sherlock returned from his escapades abroad to find John had been so distraught at his absence that he killed himself. The saddest kind of irony.
So that day, Molly Hooper made a vow. While she watched people throw dirt on a casket containing no body, she promised Sherlock she would keep John Watson safe from himself. Of course he didn't hear her, he was off God-knows-where doing God-knows-what, but she promised him nonetheless. She would prevent John from slipping over the edge. She would do whatever it took, just short of revealing Sherlock's secret, to keep John Watson anchored in this world.
