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Summary: Molly Hooper needs to get Sherlock out of her life, so she goes to America, intending to rewrite her life. Little does she know she's about to meet the one woman who is the perfect pen. Molly/Irene.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything Sherlock Holmes or BBC related.
Rating: T for now.

The breeze was cold the morning that Molly Hooper backed her bags, took a cab to Paddington Station, and boarded a train that would take her to the airport and then later, on a plane to America.

She couldn't take it anymore. The city, the bustle and the noise of the hospital had become too much for her since Sherlock disappeared. She had given her notice and packed her bags the week after.
Sherlock Holmes had always been the epitome of what a man should be for her. And she had, foolishly, always thought he would turn to her in the end, like the men in the romantic comedies she watched. And in the end, he had, in a way.
And she had helped him right out of her life.

She watched her reflection in the window of the train. Stupid girl, she thought to herself and sighed. How could you ever think someone that magnificent could love you?

She knew she was plain and shy; her older sister had always made that quite clear. Joan had always been the pretty one, the friendly one, the popular one who always had a boyfriend. Molly was the, as her father said, "the smart one." So while her sister was busy planning her wedding to a rich lawyer, Molly had been preparing to graduate university and was already thinking ahead to her career.

There were plenty of men for other girls, but not Molly. From a young age she resigned herself to the fact that one day she would get married, but it wouldn't be to one of the handsome ones. It would be to someone in the pool of desperate men feeling their biological clocks ticking. Someone plain and shy like herself. Someone who would wear brown jumpers and read the paper and work an office job.

And Molly wanted nothing more than the exact opposite of that.

She wanted life and colour and adventure. She wanted someone who would sweep her off her feet and dust the briefcases and brown jumpers and newspapers out of her life. She wanted something more than plain and shy. She had, in her desire for the unknown, latched onto Sherlock. She had driven herself mad with longing, refusing to give up the fantasies that warmed her days, and set fire to her nights. She had made herself sick with crying, refused to eat, slept for days on end. She knew she was pathetic, and that she needed to get out of the places that reminded her of him.

New York, New York had been the answer to her prayers. One way ticket bound for the city with its exotic lights and alien culture. The people, the food, even which side of the street you drove would be different. And she, Molly, would be different there. She was determined to remake herself there. To let all of the past memories that haunted her fly away. She wanted to rewrite the chapter of life titled, "Molly Hooper."