There might be some out there that might object to it but please focus on the story and writing. I'm working off the theory that he is still alive although, if his return turns out to be fake in the fourth series then I have a back up plan. Triggers this time. Sorry for the mistakes if you find them. I still don't own any of the characters and never will probably. Please leave a comment. Thanks for reading!

...

It was ridiculous standing in the lab like it's a normal morning when Molly knows that Jim was up on the roof and could do nothing, just hoping that he got her text. The morgue was full of activity due to a serious road traffic collision. She sits in the corner with her growing mound of paperwork and directs the orderlies when they come down with new bodies.

She's finished about half the pile when a new cadaver is wheeled in fairly quickly, Detective Inspector Lestrade close behind.

"Greg?" She stands.

"Suicide."

She puts aside her pen and walks to the table as the orderlies lift the body onto the surface. She peels back the sheet, examining the one bullet hole to the forehead..

"Sorry," Lestrade says hastily. "Look like you've had a busy day."

"Very. It's not suicide"

"What?" The detective inspector looks at her confused.

"Angle of trajectory if forty five degrees to the right. Virtually impossible for a left handed person. If he was committing suicide it would he straight on or to the left slightly."

"How do you know he was left handed?"

"The lettering on the left side of his glasses has worn off." He just stared at her in utter shock.

"Is there anything wrong Greg?"

"When did you become bloody Sherlock Holmes?" It was then when he heard the ball bounce off the wall in the lab. "He's here, isn't he? For god sake."

Sherlock is still in the same place since she came in a couple of hours ago, although he's now sitting down with his feet up on the bench. He is rapidly rolling the rubber ball from side to side across the bench, his fingers flickering rapidly over the top of the ball. John sitting on a bench near. The lab doors burst open "What the hell are you two doing here?"

"A case." Sherlock didn't even look at Greg as he lied, keeping his eye on the ball.

"A case? You were both arrested."

"You didn't say you were arrested Sherlock. I could lose my job over this."

"It was nothing. Anderson and Donavan think I kill and kidnap for a thrill and John assaulted Greg's boss." He directed at Molly, murmuring the next part. "It seems all the knights thought the stories weren't true. A lie wrapped up in the truth, he's very clever."

She noticed the slight smile on John and Greg's faces, not paying attention to his mutterings. Knowing full well what he was saying.

"He deserved that." Greg said walking out of the morgue. John want back to the discussion he was having with Sherlock.

"What did he touch?"

"An apple. Nothing else" Sherlock started to drum bis fingers again.

"Did he write anything down?"

"No."

Molly watched them both for a little while before returning to her work. John hisses in a breath and looks away, racking his brains and again unconsciously mimicking his friend by drumming his own fingers on the bench. After a moment, he turns and walks across the lab, blowing the breath out again. She could hear Sherlock's fingers drum out the beat the Jim had left for him. Partita number one by Johann Sebastian Bach.

Come and play. Bart's hospital roof. SH PS. I've got something to might want back.

I'm waiting... JM.

###

Jim blinks and lowers his gaze as if blinking back tears. "As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends; you've got a way out." His mind still whirling with what he was about to do.

"Well, good luck with that."

In rapid succession he raises his eyes to Sherlock's, grinning manically at him. Opens his mouth wide, pulls Sherlock closer as he reaches into his waistband. Pulling a pistol out. Raising it towards his own mouth. As Sherlock instinctively pulls back as Jim pulls the trigger. Dropping to the roof instantly.

Sherlock stares in horror as blood begins to trickle across the roof underneath Jim's head. He didn't think that he would go that far. Jim's eyes are fixed and open and there is a smile of victory on his face. Sherlock spins away from him, his breathing noisy and frantic as he raises his hands to his head in horror for the first time.

Sherlock gazes down at his friend for several seconds, crocodile tears streaming down his eyes. Then he lowers his arm and drops the phone onto the roof, gazing ahead of himself, focusing on the building in front of them. John lowers his own phone and screams "Sherlock!" upwards as he spreads his arms to either side and falls forward, plummeting towards the ground.

The plan worked. The sniper lifted the target off John. The plain clothes officer walks straight past Lestrade's office instead of going in and the workman replaced his gun back into his toolbox, just before Mrs Hudson gives him a cup of tea.

The 'orderlies' that Mycroft lent them wheeled Sherlock's body into the morgue as Molly sat the desk. "Doctor Hooper, erm, I'll warn you. It's not pretty. I'd get somebody else to do it, if I were you." They kept the drama going until the bitter end.

"Thank you. I'll see if I can." She said with a rather good mournful face, pretending to be devastated. They slowly retreated, knowing she might cry very soon. Her eyes follow them, locking the door.

"All clear Sherlock." Unzipping the bag he was in. He climbed out the bad and threw his coat and scarf on the floor

"Thank you Molly. Mycroft's men are too slow."

###

He was lounging over her sofa, tapping away on his phone with a look of unrestrained glee as she walked into the room from work. He had stripped himself of the ruined suit and thrown a pair of clean trousers he found somewhere in her flat. He had noticed that she had Sherlock's scarf in her hand.

"Did it work?"

"Perfectly. He thinks your dead and going to be buried in his fake grave and the rest of the world thinks you've disappeared into thin air. What mischief are you up to now?"

"Good. Do you really want to know?" Jim smiled.

"Maybe. Will you be making a comeback anytime soon? Or do I have you all to myself?" She smirked, enjoying the idea of it. Throwing her things onto the chair.

"Maybe. All in time." He raised his arm, looked up and smiled at her. A smile she had not seen in ages, one he only had with her around. Molly laid against him gladly, resting her head on his chest as he stroked the waves of her hair. He looked down at her. "I'll warn you, your bath looks like a crime scene. Blood is not really my thing."

"I'll bleach it later." Kissing his chest. He silently typed away for a little while before leaning over and putting it on the table. He moved around so that they laid together. Putting his arms around her and holding her close.

"I got us a place over there. Somewhere quiet while I'm not part of the living"

"Really? Jim, that's great."

"A bit of land, very good views, loads of space, extra bedrooms for when Seb and his cohorts come around. I get my own office."

"Sounds perfect. When can we go and see it?"

"Move in whenever we want."

"Already?"

He nods. "After the 'funeral'. Take a couple of weeks off and we can move in."