Disclaimer: You know it: Moffatt and Gatiss' own. Reviews are appreciated. I really like this chapter. It comes naturally writing Molly, but her with other character's is really fun, especially an established great friendship with John.

Today marked six months that Molly Hooper had neither heard from nor seen Sherlock Holmes. He had not left a note; she had not received a text, or a phone call. It was hard for her at first, she didn't understand. After going through everything that they did, she still ended up losing Sherlock, just as everyone else did. For the past six months, it felt like Sherlock really had really died.

What made it so difficult was that she thought there was an understanding. She knew that he would never care for her as she does for him, but she thought that while he was trying to decide what to do they could share this secret and be there for each other. She very much wanted to be there for him, and felt as though it would have made it a lot easier on her to at least have him there. They could at least find consolation in knowing they could discuss this big secret between the two of them. But between the guilt and the confusion, Molly was not herself; she had never felt so alone. John had tried to talk to her a lot at first, but the guilt was eating her away and she pulled away so she didn't have to deal with it anymore. She continued on with her work, and she still loved it, but she hated when the morgue reminded her of him.

Over the past month, she was starting to feel more herself again. She couldn't just wallow in pity for the rest of her life. Sherlock may never come back again, that could have been the last time she would ever see him. She swallowed hard at this thought, but she had to realize that this was the truth, this was realistic, and if she had to numb herself to it to move on, then she would.

Molly didn't need to do the post mortem on this body until tomorrow, but she always wanted to take a quick glance before she left the morgue, to take note of anything and formulate her thoughts overnight so she could have an idea for the early morning when she was waiting for the caffeine to settle into her brain.

She lifted the sheet up and glanced at the man. Male, thirties, with dark, curly hair. She winced at what the description reminded her of, but the face looked nothing like his. She continued to look down the rest of the body and her eyes fell onto his chest where over the man's heart was a tattoo that read the letters I.O.U.

She looked at it curiously; she knew she had heard that before, but where was it from? She tried to think it over, but she just wanted to get out of the lab. She shook the thought off and figured it wasn't important, that she'd think of it later.

She finished with her paperwork and was relieved for her shift to be over. This was one of those days she didn't want to be in the morgue and look at the things that reminded her of him. Normally, she could push those thoughts away and remember how happy her work made her, but she was meeting with John for coffee now.

If there was anyone that brought back memories of Sherlock, it was John. Her stomach felt uneasy at the thought. They were an amazing pair; they would have been- should be- partners for life. They had been such opposites, but it brought out the want for adventure in John, and for Sherlock, it had brought out the more human side that Sherlock would normally try to hide.

She wanted to know what he was doing right now, she wanted more than anything to just know that he was okay. Even if she never saw him again, she would be okay just with the thought that Sherlock was alive, and safe.

Molly hopped out of the cab and saw John give her a small wave from the large window from inside the café. She gave a small smile and entered, sitting down next to him, and doing her best to enjoy herself. This did not have to be about Sherlock; John was her friend. She was concerned for him and how he was getting on.

They talked for a bit, John was telling her about a new job that he got at a clinic, and how he liked working with his patients.

"So tell me John," she finally said, perking up. "Who is she?"

John gave a small laugh as his cheeks turned pink. "What do you mean?"

"I know you've met someone, I haven't seen you this up in a while. You have that glint in your eye like you have someone on your mind."

John ran his hand down his face, sighing, but still smiling.

"WELL?" she exclaimed.

He put his hands up, laughing. "Okay, you've caught me. I am guilty," he said. "Her name is Mary Morstan."

She let out a big smile "Mary? The nurse from Bart's? What? Blimey John, I could slap the both of you, why have neither of you told me this!," she said, slapping his arm playfully.

"She wanted to wait! We've only been on a few dates, but she- god, Molly, she's wonderful. She isn't like anyone I've ever dated before."

Molly smiled and covered John's hand with her own. "Well, that is certainly wonderful. I'm so glad that things are looking up for you," she smiled whole-heartedly. "It's about time something good start happening for you."

John nodded and smiled back at her, "and what about you?" he asked delicately. "How have you been holding up? I haven't seen you in a while," he held a smile well, trying as much as Molly not to let the memories of Sherlock surface; he felt just as much pain as she did.

"I-well, I've been alright, John," she said, trying her best to keep it light. She nodded, trying to keep an assured smile on her face. There was no need for her to ruin John's good news with her lack-of anything good.

"Any nice blokes?" he winked. "I'm sure you have all the interns chasing you at Bart's," he half-smiled, hoping maybe she would have some new interest. He wanted her to be able to be happy, but he understood her feelings for Sherlock.

She began ringing her hands together "well, no, not exactly. I almost had a date last week, but I- I couldn't do it, John. Thinking about him- it still hurts."

"No, Molly, it's okay. I understand. I still think about him every day." John saw the sad look on her face and it was grave, and decided maybe this conversation was not a good idea. "It's okay though, we can find something better to talk about," he said, patting her hand.

"No, it's okay. You understand out of anyone; you were closer to him- to Sherlock-" she said, her voice cracking, "than anyone else. You and I both love him. I know it's not the same kind of love, but John, he cared more for you than anyone. It's just tough being without him. It's strange to think that we will prob- that we will never see him again." It was taking an effort not to mention him in the present tense. Normally John would not catch on to things like that, but Sherlock always paid attention to that on a case, and he had learned it from him.

This was the first time that Molly was able to let her feelings free about Sherlock. She was still keeping his secret, but she was finally able to vent, and had needed it for a long time. After a very long chat with John, she was starting to feel better. Maybe she could get over this; she had people that cared about her, and she was ready to start the healing process. She knew she should accept that she would probably never see him again.

Molly walked into her flat, kicking off her shoes; all she wanted to do was relax and not really think about anything important. She felt that she at least deserved that.

After about an hour watching telly she decided that she had had enough, and was ready to go to bed. As she got up and walked toward to her bedroom, a figured stood in the hallway, a few feet from her, and she stood there dumbfounded.