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I packed up my belongings, taking my time. It was dark; John had hit the light switch on his way out, almost like he'd forgotten I was still in the room. The day had seemed so fast. In no way had I anticipated my last day on earth to go like it had. I'd set up the entire day with all the things I wanted to see before I jumped. My best friend Laurie, the park I often wandered through after work, maybe buying the homeless people by the 7-11 lunch again. I had befriended the unfortunate. It's not like they had wished their misfortune on themselves. They were simply people who had gone through too much and often just needed a hot sandwich and warm tea. My day went down the drain when I got a text from Sherlock, demanding my immediate presence. Being helpless to my love, I pulled on my lab coat and drove to the hospital without a second thought. I had hoped that God would grant me a compliment or something, anything, from Sherlock. I was suicidal and the greatest detective on earth couldn't even tell.

With a swift motion, I tossed my bag over my shoulder and waved goodbye to the hospital. It had served me well, but nothing could've changed my mind. The ledge was much too appealing.

(TrAnSiTiOn) (Sherlock's POV)

"Did Molly seem a little off to you?" John asked, eyebrow puckered in thought. He squinted like he did when he was over-thinking. I groaned with recognization at the familiar expression.

"No," was my instant response, but now that I thought about it, something was certainly missing from her usual persona. Her hair was unusual. She typically did it up, you could tell by the intense whiff of hair spray that tended to smack you in the face when you walked in the room. Also, she hadn't worn a dash of makeup, and I'd never seen her without it. Surely she was pretty without it, but it was definitely strange to see her not care about her appearance. "Well, yes."

"I knew it!" John cried. The taxicab faltered as we plowed through a pothole.

"Hmm..." I tuned John's ever heightening voice out and sunk into thought. Hair undone, no makeup...wait, there was makeup. Not on her face. I had noticed it when she yanked up her sleeves to test the iodine with the unknown chemical, thinking nothing of the indents in her arms. Sloppily, she had thrown foundation over the marks in attempt to cover the scars. I had, clueless, brushed if off. Molly was the clumsiest person I'd ever met. She'd probably fallen and scraped herself up. She had also been very unfocused, like she had suddenly lost interest in everything. I heard a moan by my side.

"Um, you're going to have to drive a few more blocks..." I heard John stutter, though I could hardly hear over the alarming beam of my thinking. "Yeah, he's fine. He's just in his 'Mind Palace'. I wouldn't ask if I were you."

Nothing was making sense. While she wasn't the happiest person, in no way was she ever lagging with sadness. There was always a pep in her step and hope in her eyes. I suddenly realized how pretty her eyes were. Typically, they shone with something that somewhat disgusted me - love. The putrid thing; why would someone willingly hand someone else their heart, and be surprised when they shatter it? I've learned to trust no one in this dark and grueling world.

"Sherlock, we're at Baker Street," John noted, nudging me. I nodded and jumped out of the cab, letting John take the bill. I was much too wrapped up in my thoughts to speak to anyone. Without waiting for my companion, I leapt up the steps and unlocked the door to the flat.

"Sherlock!"

There was no way I could've spoken to Ms. Hudson. Something was so wrong and I couldn't place it. Stupid me. I made a dash for my room before she could offer me a cup of tea.

A blade I had used the day before was lying idly on my bedside table. It caught my eye and for some reason, my gaze remained fixed on the object. Suddenly, everything clicked together. That's my favorite part about being a detective; the moment when everything makes sense and you know exactly what to do. It's prideful and joyous. The word shot loudly from my mouth. I was just as surprised as John when I heard it aloud.

"Suicide!" my stomach dropped. "We have to get back there, right this instant!"