Author: Howlynn
Realm: Sherlock
Story Title: A Statue in the Temple of Mendacity.
Summary: Molly counts. She Promised to help him. But, the reality of saving Sherlock ends up leading to places she never expected. Sherlock needs her again, but this time she must save John.

Character/Relationships: John and Molly would never have noticed each other if he were not dead. The thing is, Molly knows he isn't and she never expected things to get this complicated.

I Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

"You have stolen my John. And he has stolen my Molly." He looks so amused, just like Mycroft.

"No. But you need to stop this. Can't you see, he's jumping toward something because it feels more real, than you being dead. That's all. He's suffering and it's gone on too long. He's going to break if you don't and I don't think you have any idea how much suffering that will bring."

Sherlock smirked and waved his hand toward the bedroom. "Is that what those ridiculous noises amounted to? Suffering? Funny, I rather thought they meant something else. Perhaps you aren't as skilled as you think? I seem to recall that the motive for that activity was not a painful experience…unless of course Irene is involved."

"You shouldn't have watched. God. You and your brother. You and he are determined to send me round the twist. I know I can't marry him, okay? But, I told him I would think about it to buy you some time. The thing is, if you wait much longer, I might not be strong enough to say no. I care about him. I love him and I'm sorry that it happened, but I have no control over this. You have put me here and I am trying to help, but it is going to destroy me…" Her voice begins filled with fire but by the last sentence, her anger has quivered and flashed out like consumed paper.

Sherlock swallowed and bowed his head. "I returned because I lost contact with you. I feared something had happened. Nice job throwing Mycroft's crew, by the way. I thought you were in danger."

"I am in danger. I'm dangerously close to thinking you don't understand that we are in danger of—"

"In fact, you were not. This was a waste of time. Except now, I rather am in danger." Sherlock opened her window a crack and flopped down next to it. He pulled hard on the cigarette as he lit it and blew most of the smoke out the window.

Her own anger comes to a full-stop. "What…what has happened?"

"In my frantic search for you, I have made a mistake." He spits out the last word as if it is disgusting. He blows a lungful of smoke up into the room and adds in a tone of philosophical boredom, " Only a matter of time before they figure it out."

Her world undulates as she realizes what her selfish actions could mean. "Oh. No. I'm sorry. I should have thought." She wilts internally trying to figure out how to fix it all. She doesn't know what to say and feels as jumbled in thought as she ever did around him.

" If I really were dead, you actually would marry John, wouldn't you? Because you want to? You actually have feelings for him?" Sherlock says this staring away from Molly, as if he's perhaps talking to himself.

She can't think and begins rambling, "I do care and yes I would marry him and I'm sorry. But it doesn't change anything. He would never pick me over you. All you have to do is tell him. We can pretend to be engaged while you finish…your travels. Nobody will suspect now. They will blame his mood change on me." Molly says it softly. She knows it is true and hates it.

Sherlock nods. "And what about you? Me or him? Who would you pick?"

"I don't get a choice. As soon as he finds out that I have lied, then he will never …" she shakes her head and closes her eyes, not willing to cry, but not quite able to convince her face not to prepare.

"Good. Because he's never going to find out."

Molly's eyes fly open. "What are you saying?"

"Oh please, are we playing stupid again? I want you to marry him. I mean it. The chances of him ever finding out have just become very small. Makes it easier really. Now I can do what I must, without the two of you being a constant distraction." He says in his most aloof, snotty way.

"Sherlock, what do you mean? I haven't meant to…distract you…How can…" Molly is flustered; she crosses the room and goes down on her knees to perch next to him. "What do you mean, he won't find out? That was always the plan. From the first minute. Getting you back to John was what this was all about. I know you're angry, but this…" she holds out her hand and the small round diamond sparkles. "It's only real for me. You have to come home."

Sherlock finishes his cigarette and flicks it out the window into the garden. He stands and sighs, obviously not wanting to have this conversation. "I won't be contacting you anymore. You are correct. I can't expect this from you. You have been a true friend and knowing I am leaving you in the care of each other, my two true friends, is brutally comforting. Where… ever, I am, I will always think of you."

Her teeth are clamped tightly, giving her words a buzzing sound as if she is speaking a hornet dialect. "No. You are not doing this to me. Not now. Not after it all." She glares at him in fury.

"Tell me? Would you have helped me, if you knew then, how it ended?"

"You know I would. How can you ask me that?" Molly is angry. She feels her face burning; it always goes red when she is mad. Her heart is beating loudly and still picking up speed. "I won't lie to him for the rest of my life. Dammit. I love you both. I won't live like that. Is that what you think of me? That I can just forget and lie and ever think I was a good wife to him when it is all paid for, on your life? "

He bends down close to her, his voice a purr of control and his eyes almost laughing at her. "Give this to John, for me, won't you?" His lips touch hers and she steps back but he anticipates her and clamps her closely too him, demanding her submission and unwilling to let her go. She stops struggling and folds her heart into this kiss, trying to say all the things he won't listen to about how he has not lost anyone.

He looked at her as if memorizing her, and then he smiled. "This is goodbye, Molly Hooper. Curiosity killed the detective. I just wanted to know." He leaned in and kissed her forehead.

He opens the door and she grabs his arm stopping him, "You're going to do something stupid, aren't you?"

He looks over her head for a split second as if searching for his answer, then focuses his full attention back on her eyes. His mouth quirks up at the corners and he says dramatically, "No. I am going to do something brilliant, just as I always do. This is the last thing. I know how to finish it once and for all. You have just given me the motive to make sure it works. Lay low, pay attention."

"He's not safe yet, is he?" her voice sounds desperate and she can't help it.

"Not yet. But I will make sure he is. You will both be fine." He places his hand over hers, trapping her fist between his palm and his arm. Her grip softens and his tone softens a little, his eyes drop. "I do hope you have a happy life. Be patient with him, he can be a little stubborn and very bossy. Do act like he is amazing, and make sure he always feels wanted and needed. Because, he is so full of light and the world would be less beautiful without him. I would have been kinder to him, if I had been capable of it. I know you will be." He says gently.

Molly's eyes are wide and pleading. She shakes her head denying what he says, not wanting to hear this. "Don't say this. I won't let you throw this away. I am not enough to save him." Her throat is closing giving her an airy teen voice. She feels like a mouse squeaking, rather than someone capable of demanding Sherlock change his behavior. John would yell at him and order him and there would be no question that he would be obeyed. Molly is not able to put the same command in her tone.

"When you become parents, don't name any of them Sherlock. I was teased." He says as if he barely heard her, yet he is throwing children into the mixture as if he's fixed her tiny little problem.

Molly is shaking in fear and anger, choking on the sorrow of knowing she has hurt him and now he's going off to God-knows-where to give her a silly dream. She does know what he's offering her. She also knows she could never live with the price.

"But I will never know, will I? If you just leave with no intention of coming back, I will have no idea. Please, don't do this. I have never asked anything of you, but don't do this. I can't. I can't have…" She is using her last resort, he does owe her. Her mind is spinning, determined to say anything to keep him here, but her grip on manipulation is not strong enough. She is strong with John, why is she so weak with Sherlock.

Sherlock sighs and runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Yes, that would…I do see. Watch Paris. Trust me, you will know. There will be a terrible scandal in Switzerland and the next day, Paris will burn. You won't mistake it, now that you know to look for it. I'm trusting you. Mycroft doesn't know and he must not. Do you understand?" his eyes lock back to hers.

Molly nods. "John could help you. You don't have to do this alone. Take him with you. What if I tell him? I could tell him the whole thing. He is all ready to go. He's been waiting, for you. He's all packed, just needing you to say you want him." She doesn't meet his eyes as she makes her covert threat. She hides it in temptation, but it is a threat.

"Would you really end his life so foolishly? Would you throw him away for nothing? Because that's all it would be." He turns his head and smirks as if he already knows her answer. "I think not. His blood would be on your hands alone. I don't think a bitter death is what you want for him, or do I mistake the sentiment behind that exquisite little stone on your finger?"

Molly looked down at the ring and Sherlock swept her hand into his. He bent very slowly and kissed the ring with reverence.

"Don't be fooled by its size. It is not a modest bauble. He spent a bomb on this unassuming perfect stone. He could have bought you something more ostentatious and pretentious for the same amount of money. But he chose this. A truly perfect diamond is almost priceless and I can assure you, the heart that gave it, actually is. You are, above all, practical. You won't tell him any more than you would throw this in the Thames."

"You're going to get yourself killed. This has all been for nothing. All his pain with no happy ending?"

He winked at her. "You and John take care of the happy endings, and I will take care of the tragic hero role." He turns quickly and even though it is too hot for his old Belstaff, and he is dressed in the sloppy style of an east London hipster, his actions couldn't be more theatrical if he were in a swirly vampire's cloak. He pushes the lift button and the bell dings at once. As the doors close, he says loudly, almost a little desperately, "Just so you know, you're the only one he's ever dated who I think is worthy of him."

"Sherlock. Please?" She runs toward the doors.

Molly stands in the hallway, still in her robe looking at the closed doors. She can't breathe and has no idea what to do next.