Chapter 13: Self-loathing

Molly roughly pushed Sherlock away from her, in the direction of the closet. He gave her a disgruntled look and slipped inside. Molly looked in the mirror, smoothing her hair and adjusting her clothing.

"Molly?"

"In-in here!" She shouted. What rotten luck for John to show up just as she and Sherlock were getting started. Molly was struck with a sudden thought that made her freeze. John had kissed her. He would probably try again. He probably thought that Molly was his. The thought of having to pretend to like John, while Sherlock hid in her closet listening to the whole thing, was abhorrent. She would have to tell John…what? What could she say to him to make him leave her?

"There you are." His voice came from right behind her, startling Molly. She gasped and whirled around. He was so close to her.

"Sorry to scare you." He smiled shyly. "I just wanted to see you."

He took in her too pale face and wide eyes, registering her emotions. His face morphed, becoming a mask of concern and caution.

"What's wrong?" He tried to meet her gaze, but she looked down, focusing on her bare feet. "Molly. Talk to me."

His hand came up to push her hair behind her ear, and she found herself flinching away from his touch. The unconscious movement surprised Molly as much as it did John, prompting her to look him in the face for the first time. Their expressions were mirrors of shock.

"Molly," he whispered. "What…?"

"I'm sorry." Her voice was a whisper to match his, but it wavered with emotion. Knowing she was about to hurt him, about to make his life even harder than it already was, Molly started to hate herself. She swallowed, the movement forcing back tears that she could feel threatening to explode out of her.

"I can't do this," her voice was barely audible to even herself. "John, I can't, not with you."

The concern fell from his face, leaving him looking guarded. "What do you mean?"

"You kissed me!" Her voice was back to a normal whisper. "But I…"

"You can't what." He had stepped back from her and his voice became flat and angry. All Molly could do was stare at him hopelessly. "You can't…what, care about me? Be around me? What is it?"

He looked so hurt that all Molly could do was shake her head, feeling tears streak down her face disobediently. She didn't want this. She was a horrible person. Suddenly John's face was closer than before, hard and determined. Molly tried to pull away but his hands had trapped her face, bringing her lips down to his. Though she couldn't escape, John's hands on her face were careful not to hurt her. But the kiss was wrong, all wrong, because John wasn't Sherlock. Sherlock, who was hiding in her closet, probably watching the whole thing through the slats in the door.

Molly's hands came up, flattening against John's chest and pushing him away. He staggered back, caught off guard. He didn't say anything though, just stared at her. Molly decided that it was the right time to tell him, to get him to leave forever. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself enough so that she could speak.

"It's him." She looked down as the tears fell faster and thicker. "It always has been, John."

He was silent for so long, just staring at her as she began to shake with her grief at breaking him again, with anger at herself, with hatred for the person she had become to John Watson. At last, the faintest of words escaped him, the five words that Molly had been hoping for and dreading.

"I'll not bother you again." He retreated from her flat, a barely there "Goodbye, Molly" echoing back to her. The silence in the moment after his departure was pure and loaded. Until Molly snapped and released all of her emotions.

She dropped to her knees and screamed. It was the kind of scream that came from torture victims, from a person whose entire world was falling apart, who could no longer handle reality. The scream stopped abruptly, cut off by sobs and Molly folding in on herself. She distantly heard the closet door crashing open and Sherlock flying to her side. His hands lifted her, carried her to bed, without her having to release the tortured position she was in. Her hands went up to cover her face, feeling the tears collect and pool in her palms. She hadn't stopped shaking. The anger and hatred she felt was entirely directed inwards. Molly couldn't control it. Sherlock's hands were on her wrists, trying to pry her hands away from her face so that he could comfort her. But Molly didn't want comfort. She wanted to hurt, the way she had hurt John. She needed to feel the pain.

"Molly, Molly, Molly," Sherlock whispered, his own voice sounding pained. "Please. It's not your fault, please."

Not her fault? How was this not her fault? John would never forgive her, Molly would never forgive herself and she didn't deserve to be forgiven. She had helped to destroy the heart of one of the best men she had ever known. Suddenly, the pain wasn't enough. She needed more. She needed to be punished.

She pushed up from the bed, looking wildly around the room. Nothing in here would help her.

"Molly?" Sherlock sounded concerned and she could hear him sliding off the bed. He would try to stop her. She couldn't let him. She sprinted out of the bedroom into the kitchen where she whipped a knife from the counter. She stared at it for a moment.

"Molly!" He was behind her. "Put it down."

She shook her head. There was no way he understood.

"Molly, stop." He was getting closer. Molly spun around to look at him. She could barely focus; her emotions were so all over the place.

"I'm so sorry, so sorry…What have I done?" she choked out. Suddenly her hand flashed down, the knife glinting silver in the artificial light.

"No!" Sherlock's shout was so loud in the small flat, but it was too late.

There was no feeling at first, until there was a line of fire crawling across her palm. The knife fell to the floor, covered in her blood. More blood dripped down her fingers, landing on the tiles and painting the floor with her guilt. In the next second, Molly reverted to pattern and felt the ground rushing towards her face. She let everything go black.

…

"Molly? Can you hear me?" The voice came from above her, deep and concerned. Her eyelids fluttered open to see Sherlock leaning over her where she lay in her bed. "Molly?"

"I'm alright." She pushed up to a sitting position, noting the pain in her hand where she had cut herself.

"How do you feel?"

"I said I'm alright." Her voice sounded wrong even to her own ears. It was too controlled, too flat, too uncaring. Sherlock continued to watch her with concerned eyes.

Molly decided that this was as good a time as any to take mental stock of her emotions. She seemed to have regained control, but that didn't mean that her feelings had changed or gone away. Her self-loathing was there, roiling under the surface, waiting to exact revenge on her for what she had done to John. But she couldn't let Sherlock know. So she wiped her face of all emotion and looked up at him.

"I'm alright."

…

A few days later, Sherlock began to really worry. Molly hadn't spoken, eaten, or functioned normally since her encounter with John. She was distant, especially towards him. He decided to confront her.

"Molly." He had found her at the kitchen table, sitting on a chair, staring into nothing. She did not acknowledge his presence. "Molly."

Her head moved a fraction of an inch in his direction. He took that as a sign to proceed.

"This isn't healthy. You need to eat. And talk to me. Please." She shook her head in denial. "Molly, just talk to me, let me help."

She had gone back to not responding. Sherlock dropped to his knees next to her and touched her cheek.

"Please, say something. Say something so that I know you haven't given up."

She finally looked at him, eyes barely seeing him, face devoid of emotion. She gave him the tiniest of smiles.

"Oh, Sherlock, I have given up."

Author's Note:

I'm feeling the drama, can you tell? Sorry about it taking so long to update, but I've gotten some good news: I've been accepted into art school! I'm super excited, to the point where I haven't been able to focus properly, hence the long wait.

P.S. Two more chapters!