Only You

Here is a short one shot story from after the fall hope you enjoy.

I do not own BBC Sherlock but a girl can dream
*****
The sharp tone of a cell phone pulled Molly from her sleep.

Her hand fumbled for the device before putting it to her ear.

"H-hello," she groaned, her voice hoarse from sleep.

"Do you ever look back and regret it?" a deep baritone voice asked.

Molly's eyes flew open and her heart accelerated at the familiar sound.

"Miss what?" she asked thinking back to the last time she had seen him.

"Not trying harder." He replied.

Molly thought about his question and why he would be asking it three years after he had supposedly died.

"Are you high?" she asked, afraid to know the answer.

A soft sigh filled the line and Molly wondered if he would answer.

"No," he finally said. "I haven't used since..." He paused, obviously not wanting to say it but she knew anyway.

"The fall." she said, her voice cracking.

His voice reached her ears again, "you never answered me."

Molly fought the sudden liquid in her eyes. "It wouldn't have made a difference."

The line went silent and Molly wondered if he had hung up.

Just as she was about to check the call his voice reached her ears again.

"No," he replied softly. "It wouldn't have. Goodbye Molly."

"Goodbye." she whispered to the empty line.
************
Thousands of miles away, Sherlock stared at the river he had just thrown his burner phone into.

Memories swirled in his mind as he leaned against the bridge balcony.

It hadn't taken him long to realize what Moriarty had been doing, nor had it taken him long to realize that he needed to die.

Figuritively of course, and this was one thing he couldn't do alone.

He had meant the words he had spoken to Molly that night. He only needed her.

It had taken him only a few hours to recover the body of the kidnapper.

Even Sherlock had been unnerved by the uncanny resemblance between himself and the dead criminal.

With Molly's help he had jumped off the roof top, a rope tied around his waist under the jacket had stopped his fall while Molly pushed the dead body out a window.

It had been a good plan and the only way to have known that it wasn't him was through DNA testing which was why he had needed Molly.

Of course he hadn't stopped to see her, hadn't bothered to say a goodbye in the fear of messing up the plan.

By caring for his friends he had put them in danger. A mistake he will never repeat.

A sigh left Sherlocks mouth as his eyes moved to the unused needle in his hands. Drugs were easy to obtain here but now that he had them he didn't want them.

He hadn't lied to Molly, he was clean and had been for the past three years but something had possessed him to buy this.

It was the old part of him that promised it would be easier and yet at the same time he thought back to Molly. Only you he had said and he meant it.

With a pained cry, Sherlock threw the heroin into the river so that it joined the phone.

Why hadn't you tried harder, he had asked but in truth he had wanted to say, why didn't I listen.

The night air was chilly as he made his way back into the city.

He had ditched his signature look and acquired a new one. Short hair and jeans with a button up plaid gave him a country look.

As long as he didn't speak, people would assume he was nothing more than a southern man who was out of place in this large city.

New York, he thought with a smile. How the city wished it could match up to the intricate beauty of London.
************
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed

Shout out to my brother Jon Jon who inspired Sherlock's new look.