A/N: Hey guys,

The Molly Look-Alike case was set in between episode two and three of Sherlock season 2. During the third episode, The Reichenbach Fall, Sherlock and John have the case of the kidnapped children. Sherlock was analysing stuff at Bart's with Molly and John. Sherlock made a reference to the terrible boyfriends Molly's had before flashing her some food. In the gospel according to me, Sherlock told her he was sorry but he was going to do a proper thing. Since then, they haven't said anything about it.

Basically, there was a time break between last chapter and this chapter.

I hope that made sense.

One more thing, six reviews for the next chapter because you love me 3

Thanks! x

"This phone call – it's, er ... it's my note. It's what people do, don't they – leave a note?"

"Leave a note when?"

"Goodbye, John."

"No. Don't. No. SHERLOCK!"

Sherlock spread his arms to either side and fell to the ground. Molly stared out the window, watching as he fell. She cringed as he got closer, even though she knew he was going to be fine, not even a scratch. She couldn't help but feel worried for him. She couldn't help but feel scared. What if it didn't work out? What if the plan failed?

A few minutes late, she received a phone call.

"Hello?"

"Molly."

"Sherlock? How did it go?" she asked, biting her lip.

"According to plan. I want to thank you, Molly. Thank you for all the help. Thank you for everything." Molly could hear his breathing getting heavier as he spoke.

"Are you running?"

With a sigh, Sherlock replied. "Of course. I have to get as far away from London as possible, now. And I think you're about to get a client. I'll see you soon, Molly. Look after yourself."

"S-sure thing, Sherlock. You too. I don't want to see any injuries next time I see you," she told him, a small smile in her voice.

"No guarantees. Bye, Molly."

"Bye. See you soon."

He hung up and she let out a sigh before turning around. The show was about to begin. A body was wheeled in, a familiar curly mop resting there. Molly felt her heart drop seeing the deceased body that looked just like the person she loved. She wondered what Sherlock would think in the same situation but remembered that he describes himself as a high functioning sociopath. All the evidence points otherwise, however. Molly didn't know how he decided he was a sociopath, but that's not what Sherlock Holmes was.

She got to work, the only thing she really could do. As John rushed in, she began to feel sick. How could she do this?

Mrs Hudson was oblivious to the whole ordeal. She was finishing up with the bit of construction. She smiled at the man fixing up her flats. Sherlock and John were going to come back in a few hours.

"Thank you for all your hard work, today!" she beamed as she handed the man some money.

"Not a problem, Mrs H. If there are any more issues, feel free ta give us a call," he said as he accepted the money.

He walked out of Baker Street, a little grateful he didn't have to kill her. As he walked out, Lestrade finished coffee with an attractive woman. He got the call from John informing him of the not-so-graceful-jump of Sherlock Holmes.

"I'm so sorry, I have to go. Suicide at Bart's," he told the woman before rushing to the scene.

She looked into her bag at the gun and pushed a scarf over it. She was glad that Sherlock went through with it. She couldn't shoot Lestrade; he just paid for her coffee!

They were the close encounters. Mrs Hudson wasn't leaving her house and Lestrade is always everywhere. It was definite that John would come back to Bart's for Sherlock.

While the assassinators went back to their everyday life, Sherlock walked into Paris in a fabulous disguise. Even if Molly Hooper had been with him, she wouldn't have recognised him, not picked him out from a crowd of people.

Molly Hooper. Sherlock couldn't keep his mind off her. The woman who had saved his life. The woman who killed him. The woman who could do both. He felt guilty for causing her to run crying from her work. He was slack. He had time to organise her apology. He had time to choreograph the dance for the Homeless Network. But he didn't. And now, he was going to be busy until he had time to be alive again. He was going to make it up to her… somehow.

~oOo~

There was a timid knock on Molly's door about three months after Sherlock's death. With no word from him, she was beginning to think he had been murdered by criminals in a foreign country. She scampered to the door, hating to leave someone waiting.

She opened the door and stared at the man standing there. "Yes?"

"May I come in?" a familiar voice asked.

"Sh-Sherlock?" she asked, baffled as to how this stranger was the person she was in love with her.

"Not so loud, Doctor Hooper. Now, may I come in?" he asked in a lowered tone.

"Of course, sorry." She blushed and opened the door wider, allowing him to slip in.

She closed the door and locked it for good measure, despite Sherlock's eye roll and his harsh words of "I could get through those locks."

"It's great to see you, Sherlock. I was getting worried." She walked towards the man who was pacing around her flat. On one hand, she wanted to hug him.

On the other, she knew he wouldn't let her. "Wonderful. I need to talk to you," he said, ignoring her sentimental statement.

"Anything." She felt her heart drop knowing he wasn't here to see her.

"Moriarty's network has spread into the Ukraine. I've been there, taking down criminals. I'm not sure as to where the next road will be. I'm going to have to talk to Mycroft. I don't think that it's going to be in Europe, though. I might have to travel on a long flight. I'll need a new passport. Mycroft, again." He rambled on and on, saying things Molly didn't quite understand nor want to know. He talked about a knife wound in his abdomen and about how he murdered three men with one bullet and one knife stab. After about an hour of rambling and pacing, Sherlock stopped and looked at her. "How's John?"

"Not too good. He's fallen into depression. Erm, I think he's seeing his psychiatrist again."

"What about Mrs Hudson?"

"She's still in mourning. She visits your grave every day. So does John. I've seen him a few times."

"And how is Lestrade?" he asked, genuine concern laced in his words.

"He's worked himself away. I don't see him unless he comes in for a case. Anderson was fired. I heard he was going crazy over your death. Donovan is still a hard nut. She seems a bit upset, though. She does have emotions. She's not a sociopath."

"I don't care about Donovan and Anderson."

Molly nodded and looked around, feeling very awkward. "Alright. Well, I suppose that's everyone."

There were no words for Sherlock. He just nodded, trying to comprehend the fact his best friend was depressed again, his landlady was in mourning and his D.I. was pushing himself into work. Yes, Sherlock had passed them a few times in the street. He just wanted someone to confirm what he thought and Molly was one of the few he could talk to.

"How have you been?" he asked after a short pause.

"Fine. I've been fine," Molly lied through her teeth. She smiled at Sherlock, not wanting him to see the worry, the pain she felt over him. She had to lie to everyone and it was taking a toll on her.

But he saw. He saw. Again, a short pause as he looked at her. "Good. Look after yourself." He paced once more before sighing. "I have to go. I need to see Mycroft."

"Alright. It was great to see you, Sherlock," she said, a reassuring smile on her face, relief filling her that he hadn't noticed.

"I'll see you soon. I may need your assistance later in breaking the Moriarty web. Until then." He gave her a small bow before walking out of her flat.

"Bye, Sherlock," she whispered after him before closing the door.