A kind of short chapter, fair warning, it has Lestrades note in it, also his funeral will be in the next chapter. Sorry about the long wait for this one and let me know what you think in the reviews!

John spent the two days sleeping on Molly's couch. This was no time for any of them to be alone, and since Sherlock basically lived with Molly now, they though it only appropriate for john to stay there as well. On the third morning Molly received a phone call at seven in the morning informing her that Lestrade's body had arrived in her morgue. She immediately jumped out of bed and got dressed, drying the few rogue tears that sprung into her eyes. She stood at the door, John was still asleep on the couch and Sherlock was still in her bed. She couldn't do it, wake them up and tell them that she was going to visit their dead friend this morning. She wrote a quick note for both of them. Sherlock's read 'Sherlock, Lestrade's body has just come in; feel free to come in whenever you wake up. Love you. Molly.' She set in down on the pillow opposite him and kissed him lightly on the lips. Next she wrote Johns note, 'John, I need you to make sure Sherlock stays here for as long as you can keep him. I know he thinks he's emotions are always in his control but they aren't. This will break him, Love Molly'. She sat it down on the coffee table and pulled the blanket up off the floor and laid it out over him. She quickly ran out the door before she could decide to wake them both up.

John woke up first, immediately seeing a small note rested against his glass of water, with his name scrawled across it hastily. He opened it up, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His eyes scanned the note once, twice and then a third time before he registered what it was saying. He heard footsteps padding down the hallway and he quickly shoved the note in between the couch cushions and smoothed out his face.

"Morning John", Sherlock mumbled, quickly pouring himself a cup of coffee and drinking it fast enough for John to know that it was burning his mouth.

"Pour me a cup would you?" John stood up and headed into the kitchen and took a seat.

"No time John! We've got to get to the morgue", he said grimly.

"But do we though?" He said, "Shouldn't we give Molly some time to grieve by herself? She's barely had a minute alone the past few days."

"She shouldn't be alone John!" He growled, "This is no time for any of us to be alone! You and her both said that remember?" He huffed and threw his empty cup into the sink, "What did your note say?"

"What note?" John said innocently.

"I'm not an idiot John. Where is your note?"

John closed his eyes and breathed deeply, "On the couch. But before you read it", he stood up and got in Sherlock's path, "She's right. Remember that", he sat back down at the table.

Sherlock picked up Molly's note to John and read over it four times before he slammed it back down on the table, knocking Johns half empty glass of water over, "What does she take me for? Some kind of emotionally challenged teenager? I can handle myself around dead associates; I've worked on dead associates cases before!"

John walked into the room and sat down on the lounge and Sherlock joined him, pinching the bridge of his nose. John muttered, "Yes. You've worked on associates, but how many friends have you seen dead?"

Sherlock didn't know how to answer that, he got up and stalked off to his bedroom. John sighed and went to get dressed; he knew they'd be leaving soon anyways.

Sherlock reappeared shortly after and was dressed in his usual attire, though he added an extra jacket as it was nearly snowing outside and he knew Molly never wore warm enough clothes for this kind of weather. John looked him up and down and noticed the extra jacket slung over his arm, he shrugged and ignored it, not knowing who it was for.

They were in a cab and on their way to Saint Bartholomew's in less than ten minutes.

Molly had already roughly examined Greg's body once, but had a breakdown, so she went straight to examining his belongings, careful to leave the note for last, so her eyes weren't too blurry to see out of. A wristwatch, his ID, a small half empty bottle of pills, she choked up at that one; she went over his clothes and then finally got to the note. She took a deep, shaky breath.

"I want to know that Molly Hooper will be examining my body. I also only want her to read the second part of this note, please respect my wishes, and pass me straight along to her."
Molly pulled the second note out of its envelope.
"Molly. I hope you know how much you meant to me, and how much you meant to him. I didn't feel like I belonged here anymore. Like I was responsible for him dying. Which I don't suppose anyone could deny that I was, in some way, responsible. Know that I wasn't forced to do this to myself, and know that I chose for this to happen. If I had of just believed in him, just that little bit longer, I know he wouldn't have done it. I know that Sherlock would still be here, making everyone's lives a little bit of Hell. I'm so sorry to put you through this, and John, so soon after Sherlock did the exact same thing. I'm so, so sorry"

Molly looked up from the note and caught her reflection on a photo on her desk, her cheeks were red and blotchy and her eyes were red and puffy. She sighed and laid her head down on the desk, clutching the note to her chest tightly.

She felt a hand rest on her shoulder and squeeze. Her head snapped up and she saw John standing in the doorway and Sherlock standing beside her. She spun on her chair to face him, wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him as close to her as she could, "He didn't know Sherlock! He didn't know that it was fake. He didn't know that it was to save everyone. He-", her rambling was interrupted by Sherlock's lips pressing softly against hers.

"I know", he whispered as he pulled away from her, he was crouching down so that he was the same height as she was, "It was because of me. Wasn't it? He did it because he felt responsible for my death."

Molly knew that she was going to have to tell him those exact words, better him guessing it then her having to say it, she nodded her head slowly and he sighed. He pulled her in close and rested his head on her shoulder, a few tears stung in the back of his eyes, but he bit his lip to hold them back, he knew John could see, but as long as he hid his sadness from Molly for now, that was all that mattered. He needed to be strong for her. For his Molly.