A/n: Sorry for the delay! Life, as always is getting busier by the day, but I am still sitting down to write whenever I get the chance. The good news is that the next chapter is half written and should make an appearance in the next two weeks. As of right now, my goal is to get this done right, rather than quickly.

I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed, added this as a favorite and to their alert list! More importantly, I'd like to thank you for sticking with me!

Finally, I'd like to thank my wonderful Betas who are helping me to make sure I stay on track!

Disclaimer- I own nothing. Period.

Someone I Used to Know

Chapter 6

The last warm days in London quickly faded away and turned into the crisp fall weather I always looked forward to. Every few weeks, I would meet Sherlock at the cottage where we spent our time in public acting like any other couple around town.

In reality, I'd never been more confused about a relationship, or possible the lack of one, in my life. I was beginning to have a harder and harder time keeping Paul and Sherlock separate in my mind, especially when he'd continue holding my hand even though we were in the safety of my flat or how he would kiss my cheek in greeting most times I saw him, no matter if we were in the village, the cottage, my flat, or in the middle of the city.

As un-Sherlock like he was in public, he was almost exactly how I had imagined him as a boyfriend in private. While I always had a romanticized version of him in my head, deep down I could have almost predicted what type of boyfriend Sherlock would be. Not that he was actually my boyfriend. He'd never use a label like that, and I could clearly see the look he would give me if I asked. I'm sure it would be similar to the look he gave Anderson anytime he walked into the morgue.

But we are certainly more than friends. Friends don't sleep in the same bed and occasionally hold each other in sleep. Friends don't help the other fake his death.

It's not like this is hindering me from finding a great romance anyway. And it's possibly that lack of caring about finding the one that is also not driving me to force Sherlock into talking about feelings between us. He can obviously tell my feelings and so can his brother. He can also tell that it is bothering me, but for whatever reason, he doesn't comment on it, maybe because then he would be forced to acknowledge that there's something going on to talk about. Not that anyone can truly force Sherlock Holmes to do anything.

Times like these, I wish I had someone else to talk to about this. But how could I ever explain this to someone on the outside?

"Remember that bloke in the paper a few months ago who took a leap off St. Bart's after some reporter proved him to be a fraud? Well, he wasn't actually lying and I actually helped him stage his death. I've also been in love with him for ages, and he is now posing as my boyfriend as a part of his cover so that he can still keep tabs on the other people in his life. I think he may have feelings for me, but I just blindly go along with everything and refuse to ask in fear that it will ruin everything. What should I do?"

I'd have myself committed.

While I enjoy once again having one of my close friends living in London again, I know it's not something I can discuss with Mary. While she wouldn't commit me without a full explanation, I also know Sherlock's secret isn't something I can share. And as far as she knows, I'm head over arse for Paul and things are going wonderfully. Sure, I'm able to disguise some of my insecurities into real life situations Paul and I could be in, but I feel awful lying to her.

"Molly, who is the man giving you to odd look?" Mary asked as she and I sat together outside of the hospital. The weather was cool but clear, and we had decided to spend our lunch outside during the rare break in the rain of the week to enjoy the fresh air.

"Who?" I asked glancing across the street, quickly going through any worse case scenario I could think of before I realized it was John. "Oh! It's John Watson… he used to consult at the hospital," I said before waving at him.

He crossed the street wearing a tight smile that didn't fully reach his eyes.

"Molly, it's been awhile," he said before sticking his hands into his pockets and standing stiffly.

"I'm sorry I haven't called in a while… things have been busy," I said, feeling truly sorry. Oddly, my mind's issues with Sherlock had begun to distract me more and more, even when Sherlock wasn't around.

"Too busy with Paul, I suspect," Mary said from beside me.

"John, this is my friend Mary Morstan; we went to university together," I said trying to avoid the comment she had just made. "Mary, this is John Watson, we… ah… met through Sherlock."

It was odd to speak his name out loud in front of John and I watched him closely to see if would have a reaction. John shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but otherwise didn't show any outward signs that hearing the name affected him. Ironically, if Sherlock was here, he would have noticed a hundred different things about how one name affected John Watson. I'm sure even the color of his jumper played some role in it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, John," Mary said with a genuine smile. "Molly's mentioned you from time to time, and I remember reading about Mr. Holmes in the newspaper, although I must admit I didn't pay much attention to the coverage. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he replied stiffly while briefly shaking the hand Mary offered to him. As their hands separated, my phone alerted me to a new text message.

Need you to check a body that just came in. – SH

"Oh, I'm sorry, I need to get back," I said replacing my phone into my pocket quickly. "Mary, John, I'm sorry to cut this short. John, please tell Mrs. Hudson hello, if you see her before me. I'd love to catch up with you both soon. I have the weekend off, maybe we could meet for lunch or dinner soon?"

"We're still meeting to look at flats Saturday afternoon?" Mary asked as I pulled my bag onto my shoulder.

"Yes, of course. I'll send you the details," I said as I smiled warmly at my friend. While I was perfectly happy with my flat, Sherlock continued to complain about the lack of living space it had. In addition to the extra money Mycroft had been depositing into my account, I had enough saved to put a deposit on a new place and buy some new furniture. I had rarely touched the money so far, moving most of it into my savings for a later date.

Sherlock, of course, had refused to go looking with me and last week I had a package delivered from Mycroft's assistant with a few available property listings and a timetable for this Saturday to go and visit them. Obviously the brothers were in agreement that my flat was unsuitable and that moving was going to be in my future.

"You're moving?" John asked.

"I've decided to find something a little bigger. In all honesty, my flat isn't much bigger than student housing," I had to admit. "I'll see you both soon!" I added before turning and walking in the direction of the hospital entrance.

I was also secretly hoping John and Mary would continue to talk after I left. While I hadn't been planning to introduce them, seeing them standing together seemed to make sense to me. Mary only knew a few of her co-workers so far and many of the people we had known in university had moved away and had families now. And I knew it wouldn't hurt for John to make friends with someone new.

Hours later I returned to the flat to find Sherlock and Toby watching television together, sitting on my bed.

"Who was he?" I asked as I pulled off my jacket and toed my shoes off, referring to the body that had been waiting for me in the morgue.

"A hired assassin who was posing as a handyman at Mrs. Hudson's on the day I took my fall," Sherlock replied, not taking his eyes off the television.

"And Scotland Yard just happened to find him wandering around the city?" I asked as I fixed a plate of food for myself from the takeaway sitting on the table. If anything, Sherlock now remembered to pick up food from time to time before coming to the flat, or at least he had found the menus for the places that delivered.

"They sometimes surprise even me," he replied with a slight smile.

"But I guess not this time," I said sitting down on the bed with Toby in between us.

"I'm going to Spain next month, before the new year," he said after a long period of silence. My dinner had long been finished and we had sat in silence as we watched whatever crap show came on. Occasionally Sherlock would make a comment, but mostly stayed quiet, most likely lost in thought.

We had moved slightly since I had originally sat down and Toby had long ago lost interest in us and the television. Sherlock was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his legs, his hands steeped under his chin. I had awkwardly leaned against him, my head resting on his shoulder. Eventually he leaned back against the headboard, in a slightly slouched so that my neck was no longer at such an odd angle.

"It's a project for Mycroft. I'll need someone to go with me," he continued when I turned my head slightly to look at him.

"Are you going to trust whoever Mycroft picks to you with you?" I asked

"He isn't sending anyone. He knows better," he replied. "You dislike spending long periods with your family, and I won't be leaving until Boxing Day, so you'll still be able to spend some time with them without seeming completely rude."

"You want me to go with you? What help would I be?" I asked pulling my head from his shoulder and turning to look at him more fully.

"I'll need a second set of eyes, and you are no near as oblivious as anyone my brother would send with me," Sherlock replied.

"Was that supposed to be a compliment?" I asked before shaking my head. "It will depend on my days off."

"You've worked the past three Christmases; you've earned a Christmas holiday. The other, less competent pathologists will have to take your place. You can visit with family for a day or two and then go to Spain, with me," he said, already having the plan set in his mind.

"I suppose Mum will be happy I'll actually be home on Christmas," I sighed. My mother and I had never been extremely close. I was always closer to my father, and since his death, going home had become harder and harder on me. She always wanted to know when I would me moving out of the city, finding a nice man, having children. Both of tmy siblings, who are six and eight years older than me, respectively, both lived in the same town, were married and had two children each. While my relationship with them is less strained than the one with my mother, I hardly wished for their lives most days.

It would also limit the amount of time my mum would have to question me on my love life. I had mentioned Paul in passing but I had tried to not make a big deal of it. I could count on her demanding to see pictures and asking questions all about him, especially when I told her I would be going on a holiday with him.

Three days later Mary and I stood in an available house in Islington listening to a realtor explain the benefits of this particular location compared to the other places we had already looked at.

"Where did you say your husband works?" she asked for the second time.

"Still not married," I replied with a half of a smile. The realtor was middle aged and still couldn't understand how a girl like me could afford a place of this size when I was living in a studio flat now.

"Can you give us a few moments?" Mary asked interrupted the lady as she talked about the joys of the crown molding.

"I'll just be in the front hall," the realtor replied before leaving the first floor landing. Mary pulled me by the arm into the room beside us, a bathroom, and gave me a look I was all too familiar with.

"I don't mean to overstep myself, but do you really think you afford this place?" She asked. "Do you have a secret family you need to fit in here as well? Does Paul? Or is this just the type of place you think he expects you to get?"

"Admittedly, his… brother recommended most of these places," I replied.

"Is Paul, or his brother, planning to help with the rent then? Since when are you unable to pick out your own place of residence?" Mary continued.

"Well, Paul would be staying here when he is in the city," I said in response while not looking directly at her. "My place is crowded. It was fine when I was younger and had student loans to pay and it was just me, but isn't it about time I found a proper home? And if things continue with Paul, I'd like to have room. We can hardly keep moving around each other in my tiny one room flat. I can't even fit more than a full-size bed in there! I don't even have a couch," I finished with a sigh.

"Then why is he not here with us? Or instead of me?" Mary asked, weaving to look at me directly in the eyes. My eyes always give me away, at least with her and most likely, Sherlock.

"Paul isn't here because he finds these types of things tedious. It's why his brother's secretary is the one that pulled possible listings." I looked up at the ceiling. "And yes, I agree, this place is a bit much."

"Then can we ditch this silly woman and actually start looking for a place you'd want?" Mary asked, already inching towards the doorway.

"It's just…" I didn't know what was holding me back. I knew Sherlock hated my current flat and he was hoping for something similar to Baker Street. But this would need to be somewhere I was comfortable in even after… after he came back to the side of the living.

What would happen to our arrangement after he proved his innocence to the public? Would life just return to how it was before? Me, the quite lonely pathologist pinning away for someone who barely noticed me except to request coffee? Could I even be her again? While I had always been shy to some degree, my shyness in front of Sherlock was incomparable to my personality any other time. Until this point, I had barely let myself think of life after Sherlock was back to being Sherlock, and Paul became just another disguise he'd used to pass through unnoticed.

"Mol, there's no point staying with this woman. Next she'll be showing us something in Chelsea at the rate she is going. Could you even imagine the commute? It'd be terrible," Mary said, pulling me from my hesitation. "Let's go and get a cup of coffee and find a renter's guide and actually look for a place you'd like. You said yourself that your lease isn't up for another month or two. You have time and you don't have to pick today."