3 months earlier:
Molly shut the door of her flat as quietly as she could. She was feeling miserable after visiting at 221 B and she didn't particularly want to talk to Sherlock about it just now. Unfortunately, as usual, he was two steps ahead, waiting for her the instant she turned around.
"Ah, Molly, you're back." Sherlock perched on the banister a few feet from the door. He read her face immediately and sat back unhappily. "Doing that well, are they?"
"Awful." She sank into a chair, face in her hands as he swiveled around to face her. "Mrs. Hudson's agreed to let John stay on rent-free for a while. She feels so badly for him, and I do too. She's bearing up, but he's an utter mess. Sherlock. … You should tell him-"
"I can't."
"Right..." He didn't miss the slight exasperated roll of her eyes.
"What should I do, send him a nice text? 'Oh hello John, not dead after all. How's your newest girlfriend? Coming back, oh no. Not anytime soon.' That'd do him a world of good, would it?"
"He hasn't GOT any new girlfriend, Sherlock. He's still HEARTBROKEN over what he THINKS happened to you! He never even goes out anymore. So yes, do send him a text. Pop around for tea. ANYTHING. It'd be better than watching him claw himself to bits." Her voice cut off dangerously close to tears. Glaring angrily at him, she stood up and stormed into her bedroom.
Sherlock stared after her for a few moments, then returned to the computer he'd been sitting at just before she arrived. He had work to do.
1 week earlier:
Molly woke up to a man's face inches above her own. She half-squealed with fright before recognizing the face.
"SHERLOCK! What are you doing?! You scared me half to-"
"I did it." He ignored her protests, shoving a laptop computer at her. "I have the last piece of the puzzle!" She scrolled confusedly through a few pdf documents that made little sense to her while he muttered to himself and paced the room.
"What IS all of this?"
"It's the key! It took months of digging, but I have it!" He was uncharacteristically cheerful, giddy almost.
"What- what key?"
Sherlock snatched the computer back out of her fingers. "This proves everything I said was true. All of it. I'm this close to being a free man, Molly!" He shoved his fingers, centimeters apart, at her face, then, apparently forgetting her presence, paced back out of the room. He was still crowing to himself as he retreated from the room and dropped himself back onto the pull-out sofa.
She stared out the door after him and then glanced at the clock. 5am. Grand. She sighed. Well, she was getting up in 3 hours anyway...
Yesterday afternoon:
"Didn't go well?" Molly nearly jumped out of her skin. Sherlock waited right on the other side of her front door and her face told him all he needed to know about her latest visit with John.
"He's furious. Thinks I sent you up there to let you die all alone. I had to tell him something to get him to keep the mobile. I don't know if he'll ever forgive me for this whole mess…"
"If there anyone he'll never forgive, I think that honor will go to me." He mimed a figure falling off a building with his hand.
"Stop it, that's dreadful. I get the shivers just thinking about it. You looked awfully convincing."
"Had to, or it wouldn't have worked." He muttered. "Phone please?"