Molly pulled her phone from her pocket and checked the time. She knew she would have to emerge from the bathroom at some point but it was proving difficult. She felt as if she could vibrate apart at any moment.

Sherlock had snogged her, twice in a matter of minutes, and if that weren't bonkers enough he'd admitted feelings for her as well. She didn't know how to process all this. Part of her was indescribably giddy while another part of her demanded she run away before the bubble burst and revealed this as some sort of sham. Like, what if she were another Janine?

Oh, Sherlock thought she didn't know about how he had feigned a relationship with that woman but she'd heard it straight from the horse's mouth when visiting Sherlock in the hospital. He had still been in a medically-induced coma after being shot and Molly had walked into her worst nightmare only to be confronted with her second worst- Sherlock's secret girlfriend.


"He awake yet?"

Molly had been holding vigil next to Sherlock, whose skin was so pale from fighting for his life that it was practically transparent, when she heard someone speak. She'd turned around to greet who she thought was a nurse but instead recognized the visitor as Janine the bridesmaid from the Watson's wedding. She remembered her because Sherlock had seemed overly chummy with her that day.

Molly had sat up a bit straighter. Janine was the kind of woman who made Molly feel like an inadequate representative of the female populace. She was a classic beauty with long, raven tresses and an easy smile. She was used to leaving an impression. Molly, in a little act of defiance, wouldn't give her that satisfaction.

"Erm, no. He isn't. I –ah- I'm sorry, you're a friend of Mary's, right? I forgot your name. "

"Janine." Her eyebrow arched. "Although, I know yours. Molly, right?"

Molly had felt her eyes widen. "Yes, that's correct. Wow, you've got a great recollection. I didn't think I made any kind of impression."

Janine had scoffed. "You didn't."

Molly's face went a bit cold. That seemed like an unusually unkind thing to say but the woman was obviously irritated about something.

"Then how did you know my name?"

"Sherlock mumbled it after he returned here from surgery. I thought you were an old pet or something. Mary corrected that for me."

Molly was beyond confused.

"We dated you know," She crossed her arms. "Sherlock and I, we were together for six weeks."

Molly's mouth fell open. She closed it quickly.

"Oh?" Her mind had reeled at that revelation.

"Och, relax. Look at you, all confused. Well, calm yourself, Miss Molly. You can go back to believing he's a cold fish because he is, the bastard. He pretended to care about me so that he could break into my boss' office. He used me. Sound familiar?"

Molly swallowed. She looked away and back to Sherlock. Whatever his faults, she could not feel anything but petrified for him with an overwhelming urge to chase this woman out of his hospital room. Janine may have dated Sherlock, and spent a lot of time with him, but she didn't know him. Molly felt like her expression was murderous when she looked at Janine again.

"Ouch, that look! God, he's not worth defending, Molly. He's nothing but a machine held together by purpose and function and powered by lies." Her fingers traced her lips. "Such convincing lies."

Molly's face went hot. "I-I don't need to hear any of this. Sherlock and I are just friends . . ."

Janine laughed softly. "Friends?"

Her eyes scanned Molly. She squinted and then smirked. "Ah, hasn't crossed that line yet with you, hmm? Consider that a compliment! Maybe somewhere in that bloody arrogant blob of his he calls a brain he has a sliver of respect for you. Then again, he only does as much as he needs to, doesn't he? I can't believe I bought so many of his excuses. There never was a right time and when there was, an interruption seemed to come out of nowhere and be so well timed it was as if orchestrated. You know what I mean?"

"I'm sure I do not!"

Janine had lurched forward then and grabbed her arm.

"Molly, truly, and I say this because you seem like a genuine person. Don't waste your life on him! Six weeks isn't a long time but I regret every minute of it because he was so good at faking it. My mind and my heart are still in disagreement about some moments because he. Was. That. Good. I don't know if I'll ever not envision his face when someone looks at me that way again."

Molly hadn't known how to respond. So instead, she pursed her lips and focussed on Sherlock.

Janine had just sighed. "Alright then, I'll leave you two. When you get away from here and away from him, think about what I've said because if he ever traps you in his web, Molly, you won't have the luxury of perspective."


Could Sherlock be using her? She wracked her brain but couldn't think of any reason why. She looked at her visage in the mirror one last time. The woman who stared back at her was flushed and nervous but, hopeful for the first time in eons. She had already lost her heart. She had nothing else to lose. Janine may have regretted taking a chance on love with Sherlock, but in Molly's mind, a fake chance was better than no chance. So, she smiled, straightened her shoulders and decided to rejoin the party.

As she rounded the corner from the hallway into the living room though, she knew something was wrong. A man, dressed in a black suit, faced a terrified Sherlock while everyone else in the gathering stood by like spectators at a crash scene. She had only ever seen that look on his face once, long ago at the lab when he asked for her to be his savior. Her hand flew to her chest. Then, she steeled her features. It would not help him for her to show apprehension.

Sherlock's gaze flicked over the man's shoulder then. His eyes met hers. She lifted her chin, raised her brows and tried to speak to him silently.

"Stop this, whatever it is. You're Sherlock Holmes, deal with it."

Then, as if a cloud lifted off him, he stood taller. Molly observed the man's head cock to one side.

"Well, hello there finally, brother! What's shored up your confidence?"

The man whirled and faced Molly. She could see the family resemblance straight away. This man was a Holmes, although, his resemblance skewed more towards Mycroft. His hair was the same ginger tone but his eyes much more intensely blue, like the Caribbean Sea. His brow furrowed furiously when he looked Molly up and down.

She watched him look over the room again. His head bobbed as he appeared to count each guest. When his eyes settled on her again, he tilted his head dramatically and came towards her.

"Molly, don't let him touch you!" Sherlock barked.

Molly skirted the room towards Sherlock as the man studied her with incredulity.

"What's a Molly?" He asked.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed in concentration as he reached for Molly's hand and tucked her behind him. He seemed to be working something out then which made her feel much more at ease.

"What do you mean, 'what's a Molly', Sherrinford?" Sherlock asked.

The man named Sherrinford continued to stare at her. Every once in a while he would wince as if experiencing a sudden stab of pain.

"She is not supposed to be here. SHE DOESN'T EXIST!" The tone of the man's voice was unsettling.

"What's going on, Sherlock?" Molly whispered.

Sherlock shuffled back, bumping into her and causing her to step back. She held onto his elbow and steadied herself against his back. The man paced and muttered to himself.

"I can't explain right now. Molly, if I tell you to go, I want you to run as fast as you can from here."

She felt her face bunch up into a frown. "Not in this life, buddy."

"Molly, now's not the time to disobey me . . ."

Molly bristled. "Disobey!"

Sherrinford (most likely) Holmes' head twitched in her direction again. He buckled over while clutching his temples with his hands. Then, he backed away towards the door wagging his finger.

"I don't know how you managed this, little brother," he hissed, "but the answer won't elude me for long. Give my regards to Mycroft. He would have been here too late, much too late."