The hardest part about being a Reaper is seeing the family members afterward. The souls that Molly had to reap always seemed to be close by in her day to day life.

She so wished that she could tell them that they were okay. They've moved on to a better place. But really, what could she say? Telling them anything would make her sound mad. And even if they did believe her, how would that make anything better? That special person was still gone.

Molly thinks back to the time when she had to reap her father. She was so young, that she didn't think that anyone wouldn't believe her. Unfortunately, when she told her mother, she was less than pleased. That was how she learned the hard way that people would blame Reapers for their job, as if they had chosen the time a person died.

It's better to keep everything a secret, no matter how much she longs to tell others about their loved ones. At least, that's what she used to think.

Now, as Molly watched Sherlock lean against the wall in John's hospital room from the doorway, she wondered if it would be better if she told him. He'd know if she was lying or not. And besides, she could get John to say something that only Sherlock would understand. It would then be very easy for John and Sherlock to communicate.

Well, if they didn't mind Molly being in the way again, that is.

Sherlock's posture and the way he looked at John's soulless body made her feel a bit unnerved. He looked just so... angry. What had happened? They must have been on another case of some sort. Molly can't imagine someone just shooting John while he was walking on the streets. She looked at John, but he looked just as confused as she felt.

It didn't take long for John to finally enter his own hospital room.

Some souls preferred not to look at their bodies after death. It made their death seem more real to them. More permanent. Some, however, did. They wanted the closure. Some people even stayed for their autopsies. Molly always liked when they did. It was nice to have someone to talk to.

When they did look at their body, devoid of life and soul, their reactions varied. Some people looked on in disgust, as if they might be sick. Some looked at their body in wonder, like it was a curiosity. Some even kept their expression blank.

John was in a different category altogether. Molly supposed that she shouldn't have been surprised, but... seeing John walk towards Sherlock was something that she had only seen when people were very close to each other. Like... married people close, she thought. But John and Sherlock weren't like that. John had said so himself.

"Someone was going to shoot him," John said as he looked at Sherlock. Molly, of course, couldn't respond. With Sherlock standing right there, it would be impossible without giving herself away. Lucky for her, John realised this.

"During a case, I mean. His back was turned," He explained. "There wasn't enough time. I knew I couldn't stop the shooter, so I did the next best thing,"

Oh. So John chose to sacrifice himself for Sherlock. Of course he did. There was no other way for it to come to the end like this. One of these two would have made this decision sooner or later.

Suddenly, Sherlock pushes himself away from the wall he was leaning against and passed through John's soul as if it were only air. John watched Sherlock walk out of his hospital room, his expression hard to read.

"Sherlock," Molly called out, though unsure of what to say. It's not her he wants to comfort him, if he wants comfort at all. Yet Molly can't help but try to reach out to him. She really does want to help him. But she didn't expect him to listen to her and turn around.

He looked angry. At her. At John. At the world. Maybe even himself. Molly has recognized the look. She's seen it on many of the departed soul's family members. Some weep. Others blame something. It was something that never really went away, either. She prayed that it would for Sherlock.

"What." He said. To Molly, it sounded like he was so uninterested in what she had to say, that what she could say was a waste of time. This too, Molly was used to.

"I just, erm, I just wanted to let you know that everything is going to be okay. Really, it is," She said.

For a moment, it looked like Sherlock believed her. Molly could see that Sherlock saw that she spoke the truth. Well, at least she thought so. Then the belief melted off his face, and in it's place a sneer.

"John was an idiot," He said. "He put himself inside the line of fire. There was no reason for him to end up here, and yet," Sherlock gestured to the room John's body was in. "Here we are."

Molly didn't even notice that John had come to stand by her side. She could just make out in her peripheral vision that the words coming out of Sherlock's mouth stung him. Here, he had just laid his life down for his best friend, and his friend couldn't even... it just wasn't right.

"John he'll... he'll pull through. He won't be there for long. Really, you'll see," She turned to look at John, hoping it looked like she was looking towards his room. John wasn't there anymore, though. He had wandered off.

Molly looked around her, trying to see where his soul went. She felt her face grow hot with embarrassment when she saw John in his own hospital room. Maybe he didn't know where else to go. It's not like Sherlock is going to be good company at the moment.

He's not going to be company at all, Molly knows as soon as she looks up. Sherlock is already walking away. His gait is quick, sharp. He didn't bother moving out of the way for anyone.

Molly loved that man. (Note: not IN love with him. Not anymore!) But she wished that he'd pay a bit more attention to his friends when they needed him. Especially now, when John has such an important decision to make.

She goes into John's room.

John is looking at his own body, and is thinking hard. He looks angry again. Is he angry that he let himself save Sherlock? No. Molly can't imagine John ever regretting that, even if Sherlock is being more rude than usual.

"Are you okay?" She asks.

John just frowns, glaring at the hospital bed and his empty body. That was a stupid question, wasn't it?

"I haven't changed my mind, if that's what you're thinking," He answers after a few minutes. "I'm not going to die. I just..." He sighed. She understands. They're both a bit stumped as to what to do. If John was alive, his soul should be attracted to his body. There shouldn't be this disconnection. Maybe it was John's time.

This is the most they've ever talked, and Molly feels a bit guilty for that. John is a nice man.

"I know. He's just... he's being a little rude again," John scoffed and shook his head. It was no excuse, she knew that. Still, she felt the urge to defend him in some way. Sherlock was just acting out. He was upset that John was here. His only real friend.

"Technically, I'm unconscious. In a coma, and all that. But you'd think he'd be here," Molly looked down. No, she wouldn't. Sherlock is probably blaming himself for what happened, come to think of it. But John does need him. That much is obvious.

"He'll be back," She reassured quietly.

"It won't do anything. Being here," John replied, looking at her. "Maybe he's talking to Mycroft about... getting the best doctors or whatever. That's what's logical. That's what makes the most sense to do at the moment." He shrugs, and in part, she knows he's right. It won't do much being here. The best doctors aren't going to help all that much either, though.

Sometimes, Molly knew, company made all the difference. It didn't matter if they said anything or not, just that they were they, supporting you. That's what John needs right now.

It's quiet for a few minutes.

"You know how he is," Molly says with a smile. "Really, he'll come back. He won't apologise, or anything, but he'll make an effort to be here. When you come around, well, I mean, when you're back in your body, he'll make it up to you. That's how Sherlock-"

"Who are you talking to, Molly?

Molly's eyes widen. The smell of cigarette smoke invades the normally clean hospital smell. She turns slowly, hoping that she was hearing things. She wasn't.

Sherlock was standing there, his eyes narrowed.

At least she didn't have to decide to tell him or not anymore.


Thank you for reading!