A/N: For the October 15th prompt - "Write about promises made." Rated T. Immediately follows Something To Hold Onto.

After the detective left, Sherlock insisted that the two of them go back inside. He could tell Molly knew what he was going to say. At least it won't be a shock. They sat down on the sitting room couch and he gently took her hands.

"They found Ford's body in an alley," he said softly. "The wallet was in his pocket so the police knew who to contact. Molly … he was murdered."

"Oh God," she gasped, her eyes wide with horror.

"They caught the suspects. From the sound of it, it was the same thugs who beat me up. They won't hurt anyone else, sweetheart."

"I need to see him," she said firmly.

"No," Sherlock said, just as firmly. "He was beat to hell before he died, I won't let you see him like that. They want me to come down and identify the body."

"I'm going with you. If he's really as beat up as you say, then only I can identify him."

He sighed quietly. "Christ, Ford said you were stubborn, but I underestimated just how much. Alright, you can come, but if you even think you're going to faint or throw up, you're leaving the room."

"I understand."

Sherlock was grateful they weren't in Molly's morgue. He kept an arm around her shoulder as the pathologist pulled out the body.

It wasn't a pretty sight – his face had been completely bashed in, there were large bruises all over his torso, one arm was broken, and from what Sherlock could tell, both of his kneecaps as well. Molly gasped when she saw him then buried her face in Sherlock's coat. He wrapped his arms around her.

"It's him," he said quietly, looking at Lestrade over Molly's head.

The detective nodded. "You have my condolences. We'll make sure his body's released as soon as possible."

"Thank you. Can we have a moment alone with him?"

"Sure." He nodded at the pathologist and both of them left.

"They're gone, sweetheart," he murmured, squeezing her gently. "Say your goodbye."

Molly nodded then let go of him and turned to his brother. She moved closer to the body then leaned to softly kiss his forehead. "I love you, Ford," she whispered, barely loud enough for Sherlock to hear. "I always will. You did the right thing, now you can rest." She looked up at him, holding out her hand. "Say your goodbye too."

Sherlock came closer and took her hand then looked down at his brother. "I'm sorry it had to be this way." He leaned to whisper, "I'll take care of them, Ford. You can trust me. Thank you for this."

Neither of them spoke during the drive back to the house. As soon as they were home, Molly called his parents and Mycroft, who was spending the day with them, telling them of "Sherlock"'s death.

I can't hear them crying, but at least they're not cheering, he thought bitterly.

When she was off the phone, she turned to him, sighing in relief. "Your mother insists on taking care of the funeral plans herself. I don't think I could've handled that."

He laid a hand on her shoulder, saying softly, "There's no shame in that, Molly. C'mon, you should rest."

Molly nodded then he took her hand and led her upstairs to their bedroom. She changed in the bathroom while he stripped down to his boxers. As soon as she came out, she raised an eyebrow at him.

Sherlock smiled weakly. "I'll rest with you, if that's alright."

"It's fine." She approached him slowly, her eyes on his torso. "Are you in pain?" she asked softly.

"Not as much as I was yesterday. I'll be fine, Molly."

She nodded. "Did Ford give you his exercise regimen?"

Sherlock chuckled. "Yeah, it's a hell of a lot of weight-lifting and jogging for a banker." At her expectant look, he added, "I'll start it Monday."

"Good." She blushed slightly. "Don't get me wrong, you have a nice body, you're just not as fit as he was."

Sherlock grinned. "This body's free whenever you have need of it." She rolled her eyes and he added, softer, "I mean it, Molly. I heard pregnant women can get really aroused from all the hormones, plus I know you and Ford made love a lot, so, if you find yourself really missing sex, I'm here."

She shook her head sadly. "I can't just use somebody for sex like that, Sherlock. Especially you."

"Why especially me?" he murmured.

"You're my husband now, we're going to be together for the rest of our lives. If I have sex with you, then it has to mean something emotionally."

Sherlock's heart skipped a beat when she called him her husband. "It would for me," he murmured, "but you're saying it wouldn't mean anything for you?" He tried hard not to be hurt by that.

"I'm saying it wouldn't mean enough. I know you love me, Sherlock, so it would be wrong for us to have sex if I don't love you."

He smiled weakly. "Has anyone ever told you you're a little too ethical, Molly?"

She smiled back. "When I find something good, I don't want to ruin it." They got into bed. After a moment, she curled to his side and he wrapped his arm around her.

"Molly?" he murmured. "Did you mean it when you said I'm your husband?"

"Yes," she murmured. "It didn't feel right calling you that while there was a chance Ford was still alive but now…" She swallowed hard. "Now I know I have just one husband."

He softly kissed her hair. "We'll get through this, sweetheart."

There was a small smile in her voice. "You keep calling me that. Ford called me 'angel.'"

"I know, and I'll call you that in public, but I wanted something else to call you when we're alone."

"Mmm, I like it..." That was the last thing she said before she drifted off.