I wrote this as a result of Sunday's episode. So, SPOILER ALERT!

Thank you all for your continued support! It means alot!

Please remember to review at the end! :)


The knock sounded in her ears as she placed little Rosie in her crib, and straightened. It had been three months since she had last seen him, and it hurt her, but Rosie needed her, and John…well John was more withdrawn than before.

She heard John answer the door, and she sighed. Maybe it was good news. When she had talked to Mrs. Hudson, she heard how cold Sherlock had gotten. He wasn't himself anymore, and she couldn't blame him. She blamed John.

She had tried to reach out to him, but Sherlock had shut her out. He had shut everyone out.

"Molly, it's for you."

Molly tilted her head as she approached the door, and recognized the woman on the other end. "Alethea, what's wrong?" She asked, feeling John standing just behind her.

Alethea's eyes were distant as she shifted her gaze. "You are requested at the hospital, Molly." She stated, grimly. "There has been…an accident." She added, watching Molly carefully.

Molly gripped her chest. "Sherlock…" She whispered, watching the other woman nod her head. "What happened?" She asked, feeling John step closer. "Is he alright?" She asked, her voice in a panic.

Alethea shook her head. "I'm afraid he's not going to make it." She answered, coldly. "He's given up, but he's asking for you." She added, as Molly nodded.

Molly turned around, and grabbed her coat.

"Molly, what about Rosamund? What about…?" John started, trying to catch her.

Molly shook her head. "She'll be fine, John. Sherlock needs me." She stated, heading for the door.

"He doesn't need anyone, Molly. He just gets people killed." He returned, roughly.

Molly stilled at the door, and turned to face him. All the months of pain built up, and she couldn't hold back anymore. "She was my friend too, John, and I don't blame him." She began, her voice coming to a near shout. "He was ready to take the bullet, but Mary stepped in front because she wanted to protect him. She made the choice to save him. He didn't push her. He was her friend, and she loved him. Yes, she loved him, not like she loved you, but as a friend. That's what friends do, John." She continued, her anger and pain entering her words. "We help each other, and we protect each other, no matter what. If you don't get that, then you aren't his friend." She added, slamming the door as she left him alone in the room.

~XXX~

The drive to the hospital was long and frustrating. All Alethea would tell her was Sherlock was crossing the street when someone hit him and left him in the street. The doctors were able to stabilize him, but he had given up.

Her words to John ran through her mind, and she realized she was harsh, but it needed to be said. It had to be.

He wasn't hurting just Sherlock or her, he was hurting himself, and the sooner he realized it, the better it would be, but what if it was too late?

She didn't even remember rushing through the doors of the hospital or rushing to his room, finding Mycroft standing just outside with a grim look on his face.

She heard footsteps behind her, and she turned her head just enough to see John entering the hospital carrying his daughter in his arms.

She shook her head, and felt Mycroft's hand on her arm, and she lifted her eyes to his.

"He's asking for you." He choked out, and she realized that was the most emotion she had ever heard from him.

She nodded, and entered the room, stopping when she heard Mycroft speak again, but this time not to her.

"You are not welcome here."

She turned her head, and sighed as John faced off Mycroft, who pointed to the door.

"You put him here, Doctor. You are not welcome." Mycroft stated, just as Molly made it to the bed.

Sherlock lay on his back with bruises lining his face with a scruff lining his face and his hair long and haggard. He looked like he had been using, but she knew he wasn't. He had promised her. She saw left hand in a cast, and his right was resting beside him. She could see the bandage around his body, signifying broken ribs.

"Oh, Sherlock," She whispered, moving towards him, reaching out to touch his right hand.

Her eyes searched his face, and she sighed. His eyes opened, slowly, and she saw the pain in his mixed colored eyes. "You came…" He whispered, his voice emotionless.

She nodded, and held onto his right hand. "Of course I came, I wasn't going to…" She paused, bowing her head to let the tears fall down her face.

"It's okay, Molly. I've made peace with it all." He cracked out, watching her eyes lift to catch his.

"Sherlock, don't talk like that." She ordered, leaning forward. "You're going to make it." She added, trying to remain hopeful.

He sent her a small smile, and shook his head. "No, I'm not." He returned, lowering his eyes. "I just wanted to say…" He paused, his breath getting ragged. "I'm sorry." He continued, and she could tell it was getting harder for him to breathe. "I never meant to cause pain."

She shook her head, and touched his face. "You haven't hurt me, Sherlock." She tried to console him.

He smiled, albeit faintly, and sighed. "I do nothing but hurt those I love." He continued, his voice getting low and cracking. "Live…Molly…Hooper…." He breathed out, before his eyes closed.

Molly shook her head, and covered her mouth with her hands. "NO! Sherlock!" She shouted, leaning forward to grasp his face with her hands. She heard people rushing into the room, but she didn't care. She heard John shouting at Sherlock as he rushed to his side, telling him that he can't die.

Her body shook with pain and fear, as she touched his bruised face. "You can't leave me!" She shouted, and bent her head to lay it on his neck.

"I love you…"


Please be kind!

Sorry for the angst, but I was heartbroken by the episode, so this is was the result.

If you sent in requests, I'll have them up in the next few days. I've been pretty busy trying to get a paper finished for my history class, but now that it's done, I have time to get caught up.

Until Next Time...