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.

His face blanks as if the brain is on overload, then he blinks rapidly. He smiles in joy and it flickers out. He smiles again and he shakes his head as if he's hearing things. Finally his hand begins to tremble and his eyes close as he takes several deep breaths and evenly forces words to form. "What are you trying to say? You did his post-mortem. I saw the photos of his organs. There isn't much chance of surviving those procedures."

She squeezes his hand tight. Her words are slow and her voice is measured "No. I faked his post-mortem. Everyone had to believe it, but I had to agree to help for it to work. He never died. He would have, but we found a way to…keep him safe."

"Sherlock, is alive? It can't…I saw him die. He was dead. I don't understand why you are saying this. It can't be. Oh, god, is he safe? When can I see him? That was over a year ago, how do you know he's still safe?" John fires questions faster than she has any hope of answering.

"You need to calm down so I can answer."

He is hyperventilating and tremors are running through him. "Yes," he spurts nodding. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, holding it for a count of ten. He repeats it while she speaks.

It all bubbles out of Molly, all the things she has wanted to tell him so badly, just tumble from her lips in a random spew of information. "He was there today. In my flat. Hiding and watching, like his brother, and then he left and it was horrible and I think he's going to do something stupid and I can't…I can't do this for another second. He did it to keep you alive and he was always going to come home as soon as he could. Then today he told me…goodbye and lots of things about taking care of you and I begged him to tell you and he said if I told you and you die, then it is all my fault. But if I don't tell you and he dies, for real this time, then I will always know that that was my fault too, so the only way I can figure out to keep you both alive is to…"

John stands up and paces about halfway through her rambling. He has swiftly burned through relief and is rapidly hitting anger. He rubs the bridge of his nose and his voice is an octave too low as he tries to keep from exploding. "Where is he? You will take me to him right this bloody minute. Because no. No. The woman I love would not do this to me. So either you have lied to me all this time and you are not her…or you are lying now and still… are not anyone who could give a dammed about me. So, tell him to come out where I can fucking see him, or take it back."

"Please, lower your voice before someone shoots you in the head or Mycroft hears you. He knows too. I have begged them to tell you." Molly stands, reaching out to him as if to offer comfort. He holds up his hands to warn her away and she sits back down on the bench.

John looks up at the sky for a moment in silence then shoves his hands in his pockets. He turns to her and in a casual, conversational, bland tone says, "What did they say? Did either of them have the remotest clue that I was this close to blowing my head …did they really just let…"

"They…they sent me," she says gently, "and it helped, or it seemed to do, then it changed and…"

He wraps his arms around his head and leans back as if in agony."Oh, God. And I lost my fucking mind, thinking any of you were …" His arms drop and he gestures toward her, palm of his right hand waving in fury. "You let me bury him. You watched me fall in that hole in the ground with him and kindly tossed the soil on top of me, knowing I was as dead inside as any of your refrigerated clients. You all stood by every day and pretended to be sad and pretended to understand. Pretended you cared and were only trying to help. You were, in reality, just waiting to see if I could carry on, like a shell without a soul."

Molly is shaking her head and repeating 'no' to every statement but he isn't hearing a thing. He is beyond all reason and his logic has gone round the twist. She stops speaking and hopes he will wind down soon and let her explain in such a way that it doesn't include him ending in the basement of Bart's or in a padded room for the rest of his life.

"I am an experiment. To the three of you. How long can the walking dead keep breathing? How long will it take for poor John to catch up to our brilliant game and figure out he's putrid and stinking up the lives of everyone? I survived torture and war and fought with everything I had to live with that last bullet only to be sent home with nothing to have survived for, nothing left of the man I was. Except, I found him, and he picked me, as his friend, above all others. It was my job to protect him, even if it never went any farther than friendship. It was all fine. Until I failed. Even if he never could care, the way I did, how could he let me think I failed him? By all means, trick them, lie to the enemy. Of course, find a way to not die."

"It wasn't planned to hurt you. We didn't even know if it would work!" Molly tries again to speak over him, make him stop saying such horrid things.

His eyes dart sideways and a one-sided grin appears for a second as if he's looking for someone to share his humor. His lips clamp tightly between his teeth as he shakes his head. His voice goes back to a calm hard monotone as if he needs to explain the rules of life to her. "But you don't leave men behind. You don't leave them alive and wounded. You rescue them or if you know you can't you look them in the eye, you hear their last words and you do what you have to do. It is the kinder thing in the end. The right thing. One of you should have had the heart to tell me, one of you should have had a moments pity. Dear God in heaven that has got to be," John stops speaking and begins to laugh, but it is dark with self-hatred, "the best piss ever taken. I can't imagine anything…anything more cruel. Am I so worthless, not a one of you willing to put me out of my misery? I wish I had died in that damned desert. I wish I had never met any of you. "

"John, no…don't say things like that," she protests.

There are tears in his eyes now, he points at her and shakes his head. "No. Don't even speak to me. You and Mycroft…and him. Laughing at me while I slowly lost my mind. Watching me die minute by minute. Jea..sus! I've been the entertainment…Oh look…he's going to make such a mess for Mrs. Hudson. His brains don't match the sofa. Now she will have to replace the wallpaper."

She reaches up and twines her hair around her fingers. It is a terrible habit, left over from childhood, but right this minute she can't help it. She has to head his anger off. She tries to sound firm and determined with him, hoping her dry throat will make proper sounds. "John, it isn't like that. It just kept dragging out and now it is just …no matter what I do, there is no way to ever make it right, but I couldn't stand there and see it all come back because he took that damned violin. And he needs you and if I can't get you to see it, then it was all for nothing. He needs you. I don't know what he's planning, he wouldn't say, and I'm so afraid."

"Well. I don't think I give a damned." He bends toward her at the waist, defiance and dark humor in his wide legged stance and tilted head.

"Yes, you do." Molly meant for it to sound more certain than it did. The truth is, she wouldn't entirely blame him if he didn't.

He makes a reproachful noise in the back of his throat. He returns his stance to rigidly straight, folding his hands behind him and he emulates calm authority again. His head bows slightly and he looks like a fierce warrior about to address his troops for committing heinous war crimes. "Why should I? He doesn't trust me…he trusted you. You, not me. And the man who betrayed him to Moriarty. Mycroft sold Jim the artillery. I made a mistake, but I never betrayed him. Never. He hid from me. He spoke to you. And broke in the flat rather than just…boy, I have had people blow me off before, but this is a whole new kind of dismissal."

"It wasn't meant that way at all. Please I need you to stop being so cross and listen." She pats the space next to her, indicating she would like him to sit next to her.

He blows air through his nose as a no, then he looks up above her head and his eyes follow the traffic. He is speaking but not really to her. "God, this changes…everything. Everything. He left me on purpose and he didn't give a damned. I don't know who any of you are. He's not…not even my friend. I imagined it all, is what it amounts to. I mean nothing to him. He doesn't have friends, does he? Just one, my arse. And you. It was all fake. All of it." His voice sounds airy and toneless as if his heart has shattered and his life is destroyed.

Molly speaks quickly and earnestly, fearing he's going to leave before she makes him understand, "I know I'm giving up everything wonderful and everything with you to tell you. He will hate me for telling you. You do already and I don't blame you one bit. I don't… Mycroft will probably send his hit squad and I don't even care if he does. I don't care if you hate me…or if he does. But I don't know what is right or wrong anymore. I have been so sure that it was almost over, but it just keeps going on. I don't know if I am doing the right thing here. I only know what is wrong. And him fighting all this alone, while you slowly chew yourself alive is wrong."

"Fat lot of good that does me. You taking a year to decide that this was wrong." His right hand goes to his face and he touches his lips. He smiles and shakes his head as if he thinks the world has gone mad. He licks his lips before speaking. "For future reference. This was wrong. It was wrong in every way. I just want to tell anyone listening that you can all kiss my…arse. There is no grey area here. Keeping me off to the side and letting me fall apart, was wrong!" The last two words are said with gritted teeth.

"Yes. It was. You have to listen to me. Because it's important and it's true. He loves you so much and so do I. He only did it to keep you safe. Jim had the snipers. I told you. It was all real, all of it, except he managed to live, too. And all for you, even though this has broken him to be without you. I know you think this has all been against you, but it never was, never. He's been out there, alone all this time, doing probably horrible things to—"

"To prove he's smarter than all the rest of us," John interrupted her curtly. "Not about me. Not for me, either. If he knew anything about me or cared even this much," John says with bitterness and holds his fingers up. "And you. I loved you. I really did. God, I'm so stupid. Stupid. And I thought we were something special, something real. You slept with me. I know exactly how Mycroft works, you know. You and he having your little meetings. You on the Holmes' payroll, Molly? I hope you were paid by the shag. More profitable. Bit of a pervert here. Always thinking with the wrong equipment. Or were you taking one for team Sherlock? But it went too far today, well technically yesterday." His eyes are hard, hateful and watching her every reaction with great intensity.

Molly can't stop the way her eyes keep filling, but she won't break down at his words. They hurt, but they are the words of a wounded animal unable to see friend from foe. "Say whatever you have to, John. I know what you must think of me. I only did that because I wanted to, because I really did fall in love with you… no matter how hard I tried…I couldn't help it…" She stops speaking, and watches the ring bend the streetlight into brilliance.

John laughs at her and it feels like he's kicking her in the chest with every heartbeat. "Then why tell me now? You have a ring on your finger!" he said accusingly. "The fact you have lied to me from day one finally sink into your conscious a bit?"

Molly grips the bench as she answers, because all she wants to do is run away and cry. That's what she would have done in the past. She would have kept her head down until she arrived back home, but she would have gained nothing but a headache for her efforts. This time she doesn't have the luxury to run and hide. She has to face that whatever happens, happens. She has made her choices and she may have messed up or may be messing up right now, but she'd taken every step with the best intentions.

She speaks calmly, hoping if she explains carefully, he will hear something besides the fact that he has been cheated. They all cheated him out of a year of his life. He has wasted it in grief that never had to be, but she must keep it in her head that if she had not agreed, Sherlock would actually be dead right this minute. "He's in danger. You are in danger. I don't think that can possibly work out in any way that you are both alive if you are in the dark and he goes off on some suicide mission without you."

"It was evidently fine up until now. Carry on. You guys enjoy your James Bond lifestyles. None of you ever noticed me. Tell the British government, and his ghostly brother, there is always something they miss. Hope you're all very happy." He turns and starts to walk away.

She calls out to him,"Wait. Please. Don't you see? I can't live with it any more. I promised to help him. I promised to be yours and even though I know it will never mean anything to you again, it meant everything to me. You both do. Everything. I am terrified to lose you but I am more terrified of you losing each other. Forever."

He takes a few more steps then stops and spins, his expression scrunches into a comical squint of confusion."That doesn't even make sense."

"If you help him, then the two of you can forgive each other and that's all that really matters. I don't care about me. I'll understand. Anything you want but just…help me find a way to help him? If you really want him to die, then leave this mess for me to sort out. He won't listen to me, or Mycroft. I can't make him come here. I know he won't. He won't be happy I told you, but I did hope you'd at least listen."

John stands silently for so long Molly wants to crawl out of her skin. She waited for him to work out what she had said.

John comes over to the bench. He debates with himself silently for a moment then takes his seat. "Why not. Not much to lose." His body posture is stiff and he takes a deep slow breath and holds it for over a minute then blows it out his pursed lips.

Molly blushes, remembering much happier times in which she's watched him do this in order to remain in control when he is near letting go and wanting to build his desire by forcing his body to step back from the cliff's edge of pleasure. Her face relaxes as her mind recalls their last moments tumbling and giggling in her flat. She wishes she'd thought to tell him that it might be the last time before she suggested this walk. She still wonders just exactly what he considered above what they had already done with each other. "Please don't hate me, John. Even if I deserve it," she says without intending to have it escape her thoughts.

"I don't hate you." John said slowly with restraint. "I want to see him. At least once more. I am very angry to have been treated like such a tit all this time. But, you saved his life. I need to see him. If he'd jumped without you, he would be dead or something worse. You're right. I knew it was him. I could smell him when I walked in. I told myself it was just because they took his things. I could smell the soap and his sweat when he's on a case. His scent always changed and it always affected me. Something in me knew, it was more than chemicals stirred up by strangers. I wasn't smelling strangers. It just would not make the leap into something that could be real. I need to speak with him. More than I have ever needed anything. Please just, let me...see him."

"I don't know where he is. If I did I would be there now."

He goes on as if he hasn't heard her. "You had convinced me when nothing else could. The thing that convinced me was that we were together. I knew that if there was any chance, you would never…and damned sure not with me. So I walked in from our holiday so happy, for the first time since…then. I go out, for just a bit, and this piece of him, like a last bit of his actual life, his soul, was now gone too. It just felt like, all of a sudden, he was so for all time gone, but had only left a moment ago, his soap and his shampoo was all around me, and it was going to kill me this time. He's come before, hasn't he? Thinking stupid John wouldn't notice, never caring if I did. But you saved him. I would have died happily to do that. All these months and it crossed my mind every day, but for the last few. It was getting better. But, tonight when I got home from shopping, I was falling again. God, I want this over. He wins. You all do. One conversation. All I'm selfishly asking of anyone, ever again."

"I'm so…so sorry," she says, and reaches out for him and rests her hand on his thigh. She needs to connect with him and she turns toward him a little.

He looked at her and put his arm around her. He picks up her left hand and twirls the ring around her finger, he chuckles, and she watches him as his warm fingers manipulate the stone around and around. "I know. I could sit here and tell you all the bad things going on in my head and you kind of deserve them. But mostly, all I feel is like this lead suit has fallen away and maybe I won't drown if I can just get a breath of air. So, right now, you did some pretty evil and illegal shit to keep him alive and I sort of understand. I killed a man to save him about six hours after I first looked at the flat, did you know that? I didn't know a thing about him. He left me at a crime scene, he got me kidnapped, then made me aware that moving in with him could lead to drug busts. He took off again leaving me to deal with the police and then I shot a man and we laughed about it. I am not absolving you here, but at the same time, I can see where you got in a lot farther than you meant to and by the time you got here, you have lost some part of yourself." He drops her hand and stretches as if there is a crick in his back. His hand stays poised there for a moment then he pulls her too him with a friendly double squeeze.

Molly nodded, relaxing into his embrace and she's relieved that he is beginning to understand. "Something like that, yes."

"Take me to him, Molly," John's voice is mild, but she knows it is an order. His grip on her suddenly becomes less about comfort and takes on the feel of control or command.

"I don't know how to find him. I can only-"

"I need to see him, Molly. It isn't too much to ask. I will forgive you all of it and never bother you about it again, if you do this one thing for me. I will see him. I deserve that much at least. You must know something. Let's do this the easy way, shall we?"

"I can't just call a cab and give them an address. I don't know…" her eyes widen and she stops talking and closes her eyes.

John holds his gun under her chin."Don't do that. You will take me to him or I will shoot you right here. I have a lot of really bad things going through my head right now so please don't test my ability to understand right from wrong. In my previous job, my orders were not questioned. I am not used to repeating them. I don't want to hurt you. If he's watching us now, just signal him or whatever you need to do."

"John. Stop. You won't shoot me…" Molly's voice sounds a lot more sure than she feels.

"I brought this so I would be able to protect you from all the bad men in London. Funny how one thing leads to another, isn't it?" His eyes glow and every light of the night seem to gather in them.

Anger and jealousy's all that he sells us

He's content when you're under his thumb

Madmen oppose him, but your kindness throws him

To survive it you play deaf and dumb

-Bob Dylan - No Time to Think

Ok, two long chapters, together. Yes it is, not looking very warm and fluffy, Please review, because there is a bit of a storm building and You are soon going to be too cross with me to review for a while...but John and Molly and Mycroft and even Sherlock are counting on you to keep me inspired. Thank you all for your lovely reviews and follows. Check out - I Think the Cat is on Fire - if you need a bit of cheer to go along with all this anti-fluff.

Most of all, thank you to my wonderful editor, who has so kindly offered her time and red ink, to make sure I am on the road to improving my style, grammar and British syntax. Hopefully, I haven't mucked up her advice too dreadfully.