I met Molly getting out of a taxi outside of her flat. "Hey John." She greeted me. I smiled and nodded towards her. She unlocked her door and stepped in, holding the door open for me. She sat down and I sat across from her. Molly's flat was different from mine and Sherlock's. Her walls were light blue with white curtains covering any windows. Photos were hung neatly along the wall, and the room was nicely put together. The chair I was sitting in had a white throw pillow with a green floral pattern. The chair itself was white with dark blue stripes. It was more comfortable than the chairs back at our flat. Molly's chair was similar; the pillow had a pink floral pattern instead of green.
We talked about little and non-important things until Molly couldn't hold in any longer. Tears were gathering at her eyes. "I'm sorry. It's just- Sherlock. I was thinking about him. I just can't get over the fact that he's actually dead." She said. I couldn't help to see her like this. I didn't promise anything, and Molly can keep a secret. I got her to calm down and look into my eyes. Tears were slowly falling out of her deep brown eyes. "Molly, Sherlock isn't dead. He faked his death." Molly shook her head. "That's nonsense. I saw the pictures. John, blood was all over him. His eyes held a blank stare. He's dead. Don't try to convince me lies." I didn't think it'd be easy to convince her. After all, the last time she saw him, he was lying on the pavement. I decided to take her back to my flat. Sherlock couldn't be mad. I held her hand in the cab to comfort her. She stared ahead of the taxi. I got out first then helped her out when we arrived at my flat.
When we walked in, I didn't talk to Molly. I heard a voice upstairs. "Boring! Being dead is so boring! I can't do anything without causing a scene!" Sherlock ranted upstairs. Molly gasped and her eyes grew big. She rushed upstairs and saw Sherlock pointing a gun at the wall. "Molly what the hell are you doing here?" Molly didn't say anything. She instead ran up to Sherlock and hugged him. "You aren't dead. I missed you." Sherlock looked tired. "I asked you a question." He didn't hug her; he just stood there like a tree. Molly slowly pulled back and looked up at him. She had a small sign of hurt in her expression.
Way to go, Sherlock. It hasn't even been five minutes and you've already upset Molly. I think to myself. Sherlock switched his gaze at me. "Why is she here? I told you not to tell anyone." He asked. "Well- She was upset- and it just seemed- I wanted to-" "Tell me!" He demanded. "Okay." I shrunk down. "I didn't think it would hurt anyone if I told her. She was upset and it was obvious she was still damaged on your supposed death. It wasn't right to keep this big of a secret from her."
I started to apologise, but Sherlock smiled at me. "Don't apologise to me. I knew you were going to tell Molly." I stopped immediately. "Then why did you tell me not to tell Molly if you knew I was going to anyways?" He switched his gaze to Molly. "Because you know my 'death' hurt her. You couldn't stand to see her upset and I knew it. This was only going to tempt you more. Besides, I just wanted to have a little fun." Molly pretended not to hear as she looked around the room. I looked at Molly and felt my face flush with embarrassment. Molly started to speak. "Well thanks for having me over, John, Sherlock. I should probably go home now. Nice to know you're alive." She nodded towards Sherlock. She turned to leave but stopped and looked at me for what felt like forever. "I-" She started, but didn't finish. "Wanna catch a film tomorrow, Molly?" I asked. Molly looked down. "I don't think I will be available tomorrow." She said. After a moment, Molly headed down the stairs and out of 221B Baker Street, leaving me alone with Sherlock.