Sherlolly Oneshots

The Dark Hours

Guys I need help again. I was wrong about when Sherlolly week was last year and I won't make the same mistake again.

Because apparently it's different every goddamn year.

reggiegurl66  got it right when I asked last time (sorry about that) and said she got it off ao3 but I can't find the new date and I don't want to miss it. Also she's been really inactive.

So if anyone does know that would be great thanks.

For now enjoy this little angst ball I wrote a day late, it's my take on what happened after The Reichenbach Fall

~

"What do you need?"

"You."

/

Molly Hooper stood, wringing her hands nervously, in front of the window of the lab. Her breath was quick and a few of her coworkers had noticed her acting strange, though had quickly dismissed it. Molly was a strange girl to them. She was a strange girl to everyone and she didn't really mind. She used to mind it. Used to mind the sideways glances. The silent murmurs about the odd girl in the morgue. They used to make her feel isolated; alone.

She thought she wouldn't feel alone anymore. Not when Sherlock had confronted her. Told her he needed her.

But now, waiting, a dreadful pain sinking in her chest as she thought of all of the people she'd have to lie to- have to deceive- Molly Hooper felt more alone than ever.

And then she got the text.

LAZARUS

Her heart in her stomach she waited for the next text.

LAZARUS IS GO

Molly set her phone down. It was time. The next few moments seemed to happen in fast forward. Molly watched, her breath catching in her throat as a familiar, curly haired figure plummeted downwards. She stepped back away from the window, a million and one possibilities of everything that could go wrong flashing through her head until she the cord loosen, Sherlock Holmes somehow manage a twist through air, and the sound of glass breaking.

/

There were tears flooding down Molly Hooper's face as she shakily handed the confirmation forms to the head pathologist. He looked at her with pity in his eyes but didn't say anything. Instead he grasped the clipboard, awkwardly but his hand on Molly's shoulder in some failed form of reassurance, and walked away.

If only they knew why Molly Hooper was really crying.

/

And then, Molly Hooper walked in to Sherlock Holmes, asleep, on her couch. If she hadn't been so heartbroken as to the look on John's face as he pleaded with her to tell her the body wasn't his, she was sure she would have startled or blushed or something.

Instead she walked over, her hand hovering above his shoulder as she hesitated on waking him up. Molly bit her lip but decided against it. He'd had a long day. Too long of a day. A longer day than anyone should ever have to experience. So, instead, Molly shakily made him some tea that she knew would be cold by the time he discovered it but set down on the coffee table beside him anyway.

She turned to leave to her room but paused, eyeing the sleeping detective on her couch. Molly let out a small sigh and grabbed a blanket from the back of her chair, lightly using it to cover Sherlock. It was then when she retreated to her room and, after tossing, turning, and tears, finally fell asleep.