As I wrote this I realised this fic is going to be Sherlock-free for a while. It made me sad :(

~0~0~0~

John was worried, although that was pretty obvious. He paused outside of Faye's bedroom, heading to the bathroom for a shower, and listened for a moment to her sobbing quietly. She always hid when she wanted a cry. He never knew what to do. Was he supposed to go in, or leave her to it? If she wanted comforting, surely she'd cry in front of him? But then again, maybe she wanted to be found. Maybe she couldn't vocalise her grief to anyone, and that maybe she needed someone to do it for her?

He shook his head, taking his hand off the door handle and headed into the bathroom. He shut the door and dropped his dressing gown onto the floor, heading to the sink. He rested both hands on the basin and looked at himself in the mirror with a grimace. He looked awful. He'd barely slept since Sherlock... He rubbed a hand over his mouth, stifling the yawn that came with the thought of his last good night's sleep. It wasn't through lack of trying, and he was constantly tired. He was because he was always worrying, but then again he'd always been a worrier. Checking up on his sister, looking after the sick and injured and that was before he went off to Afghanistan. He used to have Sherlock to focus that on, someone who genuinely needed someone to make sure he didn't go and get himself killed. He shook his head; and what a great job he made of that.

John reached into the shower, turning it onto quite a high temperature then, after quickly shedding his clothes, stepped in. The almost-boiling water felt fantastic as it hit his skin, waking him up even more. He rubbed both hands through his hair, making sure his short hair was completely soaked.

It was the real reason he'd been trying so hard to make sure Faye was okay. Because Sherlock was not. He'd failed his best friend, but he wasn't about to make the same mistake again. If Faye went somewhere, he'd know about it. He'd make sure he could get there at a moment's notice and he would not just stand there even if he was being told to. The guilt from letting Sherlock jump was eating him up from the inside, when he closed his eyes John saw him jump, heard Faye screaming. He couldn't stop it, it was too late...

He reached out, grabbing the first bottle of shampoo he came across and vigorously scrubbed it into his scalp, trying not to dwell on it. Of course, Sherlock had been dead barely a month, it was all that they could think about. That morning Faye had made three cups of tea instead of two. He'd come home and been confused for just a second over why Sherlock didn't appear to be in the flat. He was already calling Sherlock's name when he'd realised Sherlock wasn't there. That Sherlock was never going to be there again.

Knock, knock, knock.

"John?" Faye called from the other side of the door, her voice cracking as she called loudly to be heard over the running water.

"I won't be long!" He shouted back.

"I can hear you crying from out here." She told him as he sniffed. He shook his head, he'd hoped the water would have drowned it out, "I'm coming in!"

"I'm in the shower!" He cried in alarm as the door opened. He stared at the curtain, eyes wide in disbelief. Neither of them seemed to have any sense of personal decency or space. He almost winced, Faye didn't seem to have it. Sherlock didn't have anything anymore.

A hand snuck in, turning the shower off with the dial. The water gave one last squirt then was off. Then the same hand came back, holding his dressing gown.

"I love you John, but I don't want to see you naked." He couldn't help the spontaneous laughter that broke from his throat and he shrugged it on, tying it at the front before pushing the curtain open. Faye shot him a shaky smile that matched her worn-out, tear-stained face. He climbed out of the bathtub and pulled her into a hug, both of them mourning the loss of their best friend.

~0~0~0~

"Coming!" Faye called as she jogged lightly down the stairs, hoping the person on the other side of the door heard her before they rang the doorbell again. John had finally fallen asleep on the sofa, the last thing she wanted was the doorbell waking him up. She pulled the door open and blinked in surprise, "Molly?"

The smaller woman shot her an almost guilty smile, nodding, "Hello." She said lamely and Faye frowned, glancing behind her as if expecting someone to be standing there before moving out of the way.

"Sorry, come in." She told Molly quietly, "John's asleep, but you're welcome to wait if you like." Molly shook her head as she stepped inside.

"No, I've come to see you." Faye frowned.

"Me?" She repeated, bewildered, "Really?" Molly nodded.

"I... I thought that maybe you'd like to go for lunch..." Molly shook her head, brushing her hair behind her ear, "You're probably busy..."

"No!" Faye interrupted, startling Molly, "No, I'd love to." She grinned, nodding up the stairs, "Just let me get ready, I'll only be a couple minutes." She led Molly upstairs, "I better leave John a note, that way I don't have to wake him up." Molly nodded.

"Is he still not sleeping?" She asked in a whisper as they entered the flat. Faye shook her head.

"Not really. He's too jump..." She trailed off, "He's still too paranoid." She corrected herself sadly. She picked up a pen and found a used envelope, scribbling a note on the back of it.

"It shows he cares, I suppose." Molly offered, not very good at comforting thing. Dead people didn't often need words of reassurance. And she didn't deal with the grieving families either.

"Sometimes I think it would be better if he didn't." Faye admitted before turning, smiling at Molly, "Right, coat." She placed the note on the coffee table in front of John before heading into the hallway. Molly shifted on the spot, was she supposed to follow? Not really knowing, she glanced down curiously at the note.

Hey John, Molly came around and invited me to lunch. So I went. I'm fine, honest. I didn't want to wake you. I'll be back later. And I promise not to go near St Bart's. Xxx

Molly grimaced. She remembered walking to work and seeing Faye sat on the roof where Sherlock had jumped from. Or, supposedly jumped from. She'd rang John first before running up the stairs, thanking everyone she could think of that Faye was still there when she made it to the roof. Faye had turned, looking defeated and so devastated. She wasn't going to jump off, she had just wanted to be closer to Sherlock. It broke Molly's heart, not because she considered her a friend, but because her pain was so easily preventable. A few little words and she would know.

"Ready?" Molly jolted in surprise as Faye smiled at her, doing up the last couple of buttons on her black jacket. Molly smiled and walked over. She couldn't say anything, so she was going to be there for her when Sherlock couldn't.

"Of course." She replied and the two women headed out, John not even stirring.