A/N: Prompt fill for February 5th - "When I awoke the next morning..." Thank you to my readers, you've convinced me to keep going. There's at least one more part after this.
Sherlock came to see Molly every night. He always seemed to know exactly what she needed, whether it was a hug, a laugh, or a shoulder to cry on. Molly cried a lot during the first few months. Sometimes she cried at school and other kids would laugh. Jimmy laughed once and Mary smacked him upside the head. She got in trouble but she told Molly she'd do it again and again.
"Mary's a good friend," Sherlock said, grinning, when Molly told him that night.
"She is. Johnny said she fights better than any boy. He was grinning when he said that."
Sherlock smiled a bit. "I do believe Johnny likes Mary."
"Eww..."
He laughed. "There's nothing wrong with liking someone, Molly."
"They're friends," she said firmly. "That's good enough."
It was close to the first anniversary of her mother's death when Molly first mentioned Sherlock to her father. She had never even thought about hiding her friendship with the Man in the Moon from him, it had just never come up before. Naturally, Mr. Hooper thought she was talking about an imaginary friend. When Molly insisted he was real, her father became quite stern.
"He's not real, Molly. You need to stop this childish nonsense. Girls your age don't have imaginary friends."
Molly fled to her room in tears. It was just after tea, too early for Sherlock to come see her. She threw herself onto her bed and eventually cried herself to sleep.
When she woke up the next morning, she almost started crying again when she realized she missed her chance to see him, but then she saw a note on the nightstand. She picked it up and unfolded it.
My Molly,
I heard what your father said. I'm real, you know I am, but perhaps I shouldn't come to visit you anymore. You can still talk to me like you used to and I will still watch over you, I promise.
Yours always,
Sherlock
Anger like Molly had never felt before filled her. "It's not the same and you know it! You're supposed to be my friend! I hate you! I'm never talking to you again!"
That night, for the first time, she closed the curtains without even looking at the moon. Once more, she cried herself to sleep.
It would be another twenty years before she gave the moon more than just a passing glance.