After Molly learned of Sherlock's death, a world fell apart for her. The first weeks were more than difficult for her. She knew that her friends, especially John, would suffer especially and she wanted to be there for him. To stand by him and support him. She put her grief completely in the background and only let it out when she was alone. Molly had always been a person who cared more about those around her than herself, and especially now at this time, she needed to be strong. To the outside world, anyway.

She found most of her distraction through work. At first it was hard to go back to the rooms where Sherlock had often stayed. Sometimes she thought she imagined, as she worked in the lab, that she could still detect his scent. That wonderful, breathtaking scent that could sometimes quite upset her when she walked close to him or stood next to him.

The worst day was the day of the funeral. Molly had offered John to go along with him and Mrs. Hudson. The funeral itself was held on a small scale. What surprised Molly was that Sherlock's parents were nowhere to be seen. Only Mycroft was present from Sherlock's family. And as always, he seemed rather reserved and distant. Not even a hint of sadness could she detect on his face. But Molly didn't want to focus on that but on herself and her friends.

The eulogy was held at Sherlock's grave and with every word that was spoken, Molly felt the sadness gradually trying to overtake her again. John, too, was visibly struggling to keep his composure. She felt him visibly tense up next to her and without thinking any further about it, she took his hand in hers and squeezed it tightly. He smiled just slightly at her and seemed grateful for it.

After the funeral service ended and a few more condolences were exchanged, everyone left the cemetery again. Mrs. Hudson commented that it would be nice to have a small ceremony in honor of Sherlock's memory at Baker Street.

Greg excused himself, as he had to get back to the Yard, and Molly wasn't sure she was up to it either. However, seeing John's sad and almost pleading look, she decided to accompany them.

Arriving at Baker Street, the elderly lady immediately went to the downstairs apartment, only to return a short time later with a bottle of bourbon. John and Molly then just looked at her questioningly.

The older lady just shrugged her shoulders slightly.

"If, then I would also like to toast Sherlock properly" she only said and then went up the stairs to the upper apartment.

John and Molly only gave each other a slight grin before following the older lady.

Once upstairs, Mrs. Hudson opened the door, stepped into the apartment and placed the alcohol on the table. Molly entered the apartment with a queasy feeling and immediately unnoticed the lingering scent of Sherlock. With slightly wobbly legs, she slowly moved toward the couch and joined Mrs. Hudson. After John added a couple of glasses, they toasted and exchanged a variety of stories about Sherlock. They were the funniest but also the strangest stories Molly had ever heard about him.

At some point it became late. Mrs. Hudson was the first to leave and said goodbye to the two.

Molly, too, was beginning to be ready to leave. She turned to John, who was now staring ahead on the couch, deep in thought.

"John? Are you okay?" she asked in a slightly concerned tone, gently touching his shoulder.

He wasn't looking at her. His head was down.

"I don't think I can do this, Molly," he spoke softly, then slowly turned his head in her direction.

Molly froze for a moment when she saw the look on her boyfriend's face. She had never seen so much sadness in his eyes. It broke her heart to see him like that.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't stay. Not here. Where everything reminds me of him."

He took a deep breath before continuing.

"Sherlock... I never told him but...He was my best friend. I don't know where I would be today if I hadn't met him. He gave my life meaning again. I just don't know what to do without" he was sobbing lightly now.

Molly's breath caught as she saw how vulnerable he suddenly was. If she didn't know John and his frequently changing relationships with women, she would think John was in love with Sherlock. But it was different. John missed his friend. The one who had given him a purpose to live again. The one he had the countless adventures with and the one who had completely changed his life. His best friend.

Molly slowly turned to John and then pulled him tightly into her arms. Gently, she stroked his back with circular motions until he gradually relaxed.

Slowly he broke away from her embrace and looked at her. John was now looking at her with so much awe in his eyes and before Molly knew it, his lips were suddenly on hers. It was only a few seconds before John realized what he was doing. Startled, he pulled away from her and looked down at the floor in embarrassment.

"Oh man Molly, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...I shouldn't have done that" he then said, looking slightly embarrassed to the side.

Molly slightly shocked by what had just happened shifted slightly on the couch before looking back at John.

"Yes it's true, you shouldn't have done that but John, Sherlock was your best friend. You lost the person who meant the most to you. You feel hurt and sad. You just want to forget. But John not through this. If you need to cry, do it and don't try to suppress it with any other actions. I'm here for you" she then said, smiling slightly and gently touching his arm.

Regardless of the fact that Molly was just echoing her own feelings, she hoped that she could help him a little by doing so.

John sighed noticeably but gradually relaxed back beside her.

"How do you actually do it, Molly? How can you be so strong? How do you cope, especially since you're..."

He suddenly fell silent.

"Since I what?" asked Molly then, slightly confused.

John took a deep breath and sighed again.

"Since you were in love with Sherlock."

Now it was Molly's turn to tense up. Slightly nervous, she slid in the seat next to him. She didn't say a word. Molly was far too startled that John knew.

When John noticed that Molly didn't answer, he continued.

"Am I right? You were in love with him, weren't you?"

But he didn't wait for her to answer.

"I noticed it the first time we met. Your looks and how embarrassed and red you got when he walked into the room. But I didn't really realize it until the Christmas party."

Molly looked startled at him but John still had his eyes on the table in front of him.

"Knew Sherlock..." she began, but couldn't continue. Her voice was trembling.

"...It too?" he asked, looking up and glaring at her for the first time in a long time.

He shook his head.

"I don't think so. Maybe he noticed something during that Christmas party but come on, this is Sherlock we're talking about. Feelings have always been foreign to him. I don't think he had any knowledge of your feelings. And if he did -"

"...then he didn't care," Molly interrupted him.

John did not answer. Molly suddenly felt quite uncomfortable. A cold shiver ran through her at the thought that Sherlock knew about her feelings and that it left him completely cold, even if she would have expected nothing else from him. She felt tears gathering in her eyes again, her stomach tightening and bile rising inside her. With a quick movement, she got up from the couch.

"Sorry, I just have to..." she said, running as fast as she could to the bathroom.

With her head over the toilet, she let out all the pain she felt. After a short while, however, she didn't feel any better. Even though her stomach, filled only with her coffee from this morning and Mrs. Hudson's bourbon, was now empty, her heart was not. Carefully, she got up, walked to the sink to splash a little water on her face. Her reflection showed a young broken woman. Her eyes were full of pain and shining from tears. She shook her head slightly before heading back out of the room.

She stepped out, closed the door behind her and stopped. Her gaze fell to the right as she did so. Without thinking about it, she moved on slightly wobbly legs to the closed door. With her hand on the handle, she paused briefly, took one deep breath, and then pushed it down. It was unlocked, allowing Molly to enter.

Her eyes roamed the room. She stepped further inside and spun around. She had never been in Sherlock's bedroom before and she wanted to soak it all up. Her eyes settled on a picture of the periodic table behind the door. She had to grin briefly at the thought of it. After all, Sherlock was a graduate chemist. Then she moved slowly toward the bed. She slid her hand gently and carefully over the sheets.

"Is everything okay?"

She turned, slightly startled, and looked into the eyes of a worried John, who was leaning against the doorframe.

Molly couldn't find the right words. She swallowed hard before looking around the room again, taking in the scent of Sherlock, and then turning to John.

"I think I have to go now," she said quietly, then stormed past him at a quick pace.

"MOLLY!" shouted John after her.

But she didn't stop. She grabbed her bag, ran down the stairs, opened the door and stepped out into the now dark night. She did not turn around again. Her pain was too great. She left the familiar building and after a few moments she left Baker Street behind her.