It had been one weak since Molly last saw Sherlock, it had been one weak since she had helped him fake his suicide and it had been one weak since she could sleep. Her eyes and limbs felt heavy as she crossed the dark room, desperately trying to stay upright. It was not that Molly could not sleep more like she was too scared to. Whenever she found herself drifting off out of pure exhaustion she would be plagued with nightmares of Sherlock: first asking for help, with the saddest expression she had ever seen on his face; and second, the image of his blood stained body as she saw him scraped of the pavement and wheeled into the morgue.

Of course she knew that he was alive, she had even helped him sneak out the back of the morgue but it all still felt very real. Now there was someone hammering on her door pulling her out of her terrible thoughts. As Molly wrenched open the door she felt puzzled for a few seconds before recognising the signature cheekbones and perfect face structure. Sherlock was here at her door, yet looking completely different as he strode past Molly flicking on her light switch as he made his way into the room.

"Ahh Molly do close that door, it's getting rather cold in here" said Sherlock, as he tried to sound like his old self. Unfortunately for him Molly could see past it all. She could see his eyes and they weren't bright and sparkling, they were dead.

Molly closed the door then spun around to face Sherlock. He had dyed his hair ginger and instead of its usual curly bounce it had been cut shorter and was currently matted on top of his head. He looked distinctly un-Sherlock with the combination of his hair and his dress. He was wearing a pair of faded washed out jeans, a tight worn out black t-shirt and a battered old leather jacket. Even though he looked vastly different, Molly thought he still looked gorgeous.

"Nice disguise" was all Molly could manage as the pair continued to stare at each other.

"Thank you" Sherlock murmured after a pause.

Molly was feeling vulnerable under Sherlock's gaze as she always did. He had a way of seeing right into her as if she was invisible. But now she could see him, they both shared a gaunt look about their features. Clearly he had not ate or slept much in the last week, in some ways Molly found this to be a comfort as it showed that he was human. He was missing Baker Street and John she thought. Of course it made her feel twice as bad seeing him like this, but she tried to keep one singular thought in her mind 'at least he is alive'.

Molly knew that she was never going to forgive herself. She had introduced Sherlock to Jim… Moriarty, she corrected herself. Sherlock would have to leave his best friend/blogger /maybe more? all because she thought that Moriarty liked her.

"So, decided to go ginger then?" said Molly quietly, trying to relieve some of the tension.

"Hmm. It's statistically the most overlooked hair colour there is. No one suspects the red head, if you will." Then he smirked, giving Molly that all too familiar pull in her stomach which made her want to grab his face and do unspeakable things to him. But this wasn't the right time even for thoughts like that, so she did the most appropriate thing she could think of.

"Tea?"

Sherlock nodded as she walked through to her kitchen to put the kettle on.

When Molly walked back through to her lounge she saw Sherlock sat stark still on the couch staring far off into the distance. He did not look like he was in his mind palace but more like he was extremely distracted. Molly had never really saw Sherlock in any other way except cold and calculating, so this was a definite change. He looked more vulnerable than she had ever seen him and this unnerved her a bit.

As Molly put the two steaming cups down on the table and sat opposite Sherlock on her chair she took to opportunity to notice all of his changes. The hair was the most severe, there was only one other time had she ever saw Sherlock without his perfect curls. But they had a silent agreement to never bring the others bad haircuts up, ever.

After a couple of minutes of silence Sherlock looked up at Molly and spoke.

"You haven't been sleeping."

"No, I um well I get nightmares" stuttered Molly.

"I am the same. I can't stop thinking about them Molly."

"Who?"

"Everyone that thinks I am dead. I sacrificed myself for them yet it has hurt them so much. Why are they so sad, it's been a week? Don't they think I'm a fake? Why are you sad?"

And this was it, Sherlock was opening up to her and showing her what he had going on inside his head.

"What don't you get Sherlock? They will never think you are a fake, we all knew you and it doesn't matter what you say or what the papers are saying. We can never even entertain the idea that you were faking. And as for the other part we all hurt because we care. We have all cared for you even when you didn't know it. Why else would we put up with half of the things you did." Molly watched Sherlock's reaction for a minute, and then continued. "Sherlock we all go outside and the headlines saying you were a fake and your face plastered everywhere, we see how the world has turned against you and how you were driven to kill yourself because of it. We are not sad because we think we were taken in by you, more by the fact that you are gone and we won't ever know the reason why."

"But you know the reason."

"Yes but I mourn for a different reason Sherlock, one that you won't understand"

"Why won't I understand it?" questioned Sherlock.

"Because you are lucky." Said Molly dryly as she looked into the bottom of her mug trying to avoid Sherlock's eye contact. She was of course referring to the pain of loving Sherlock and having to loose him. She has been dealing with his rejection for so long yet her love never dwindles. He would not understand what she felt because he did not understand what it is to love, or so she thought.

After another few minutes silence Sherlock got up took his mug back through to her kitchen then once again joined her in the lounge.

"I have to go now Molly. You won't see me for a while now."

"Where are you going, how long?"

"I can't tell you where and I don't know how long I will be gone, it may even be forever."

At this point Molly's whole face dropped, she could not face the truth that she may never see him again. Sherlock walked straight up to her pulling her up to her feet and looked down into her eyes.

"Please Molly for me, look after the others and don't be so sad."

They were the two things that Molly could not do but she nodded anyway. She could not disappoint him especially when it was his final request.

Sherlock began to turn away towards the door but changed his mind a microsecond later and he turned back and gave Molly a small kiss on her cheek. Then fled the flat into the London streets that were now being poured with rain. All she saw was a flash of ginger, streak past her window and then he was gone, gone for perhaps the last time.

Thank you everyone for being so patient with me. I have loads of school work on at the moment (damn you teachers) so it's hard to find the time to write.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. And thanks to all of you who have reviewed it lights up my day when I see the emails come in saying 'new review'. Also thanks to the followers and the favouritors (I don't think that's a word but I'm going with it anyway ).

Renaissancebooklover108, CorpseGrl, KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun, Guest, Rocking the Redhead, Crimson and Chrome 42. (These are my lovely reveiwers, thanks guys)

A review would be really AMAZING. – Kat.