This is the last chapter. Thank you so much for following and reading. I hope that it hasn't been too depressing for you... :/ I hope you enjoy this chapter and I hope isn't too crappy an ending. Thank you.

Chapter 7

"I'm sorry Molly..."

Molly was finishing her work at the morgue at 17:00. She'd just cleaned up after an autopsy on a man who had passed away recently. Her conclusion was that he had chronic heart disease. Her hair was tied back its normal way and it swung as she turned. She didn't hear Sherlock when he first entered. But a small knock on the fridge door and she was alerted. "Oh Sherlock." She said as she jumped. She didn't turn though.

"What's wrong, Molly? You're normally so chipper." Sherlock stood behind her, hands in his pockets, watching every movement she made. Why was she trying not to look at him?

"Oh am I now?" Sherlock's eyes squinted at Molly's response.

"What's happened? I presume Mycroft has been to see you?" His head lowered and his lips curled together.

"Yes." Was her simple reply.

"Do you remember now?"

"Of course I do." She yelled. Now she turned towards him. Her eyes were blazing with hatred.

"What did I do?" He shrugged his shoulders.

"You treat me worse and worse each time we meet... All because he made us forget. I see my feelings never left. They were never erased." Molly's eyes were no longer rage, nor blazing. Now they were filled with sorrow and want for what was before. Sherlock walked towards her and pulled her in tightly.

"I'm sorry Molly. I should never have gotten you into this..." Molly looked up.

"I saved you, remember?" Sherlock swallowed and looked like he couldn't remember. "I know you remember." She chuckled. "That's what brought us together." They both sighed, remembering the times they wish still existed.

"I'm sorry Molly." She moved away from him, and looked deep into his eyes. "Sleep well..." Molly's eyes rolled as she fell into his arms. From her arm, Sherlock removed a small syringe. Inside it contained a sachet of the sugar Sherlock had taken from the cafe. Molly would forget. "It's better this way." Sherlock whispered into her ear as he lay her hands together on her waist.

As Sherlock walked out of the morgue, he turned back to her sleeping body. "I truly am sorry. One day you shall remember." And with that, Sherlock turned away. He walked silently back to 221B, attempting to control his new found emotions. Would the power be too strong for him? Could he manage it?

The last words John heard from Sherlock that night were, "I'm back. And she's gone..." when he walked through the door. He didn't stir again that night; remembering how much he hurt. How much he wanted the past back. But it was gone. Taken from him. And by his own brother.

The next morning Sherlock didn't leave his position. He lay on the sofa staring up towards the ceiling. What had he done? What could he do? Continuing to stare, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out:

'Sherlock.

I hope that you're reading this the morning after you make me forget. I knew you would. I just wanted to let you know I forgive you. I know that this will not mean much to you; but it's the best thing I can offer. I'm glad that you chose to help me forget because I don't think I could live with the pain of knowing what both you and I did to ourselves back in our past. My father... Let's just say that I don't want to remember those events.

I understand why you're like this now, and I hope that you never forget how I was. The way that I have lived, and will continue to live for the rest of my life, is a way in which I have enjoyed. No problems. No hatred for anyone or anything. I hope you enjoy being friends with this me as much as you loved the other one. You never know, maybe a few tricks will be played. Maybe one day, the real Molly Hooper will return. Look out for me.

This message is my note. Not for a suicide, but for the end of my old life.

I know it ended when we were 16, but now I truly am gone.

Thank you, Sherlock.

Thank you.

Yours forever,

Molly Hooper.'

Sherlock looked at his phone and read the message. Smiling he placed his phone onto the table. He looked at John, who was staring straight at him, and let out a small chuckle. He then returned to his upwards facing position.

"Did you receive my picture message?" John presumed that Sherlock was laughing at something funny. But was he?

"No. I deleted it before I'd even read it." John's eyes rolled. "Picture messages are very childish John."

John slammed a newspaper down onto the table. "Childish? Says the man who 'had' to make his ex forget about her past... Twice."

"Actually, the first time it was Mycroft." Sherlock corrected. "And it is NOT childish. She'll remember... Some day..." Sherlock snapped. He then smirked to himself as his hands placed themselves under his chin. "Do you know what, John?"

"What, Sherlock?" John replied immediately. It could be a number of things, so John wasn't willing to guess.

"I'm sure Molly will be just fine." John's head turned away from Sherlock.

"How do you know?"

Sherlock chuckled at John's question, sitting up and looking into his eyes. "That was her note..."

John looked puzzled. "What?!"

"Don't you see? She attached a file to her message... Her hard drive. Just like my brain, she left a back-up version on her phone. Molly hasn't gone, John. She's still very much alive..."

THE END.

Thank you for reading. :) I hope you enjoyed it all.