Disclaimer: I own nothing! I claim nothing! I'm just borrowing the characters for my own pleasure and the pleasure of whoever reads this!

Chapter One

Death of a Genius

Everything had to be perfect.

Molly paced as she thought and re-thought about the conversation She had shared with Sherlock a little over two hours ago.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Molly turned off the light in the morgue as she prepared to leave. It had been a long day, and she was tired, so she hadn't noticed his dark silhouette until he spoke.

"You're wrong you know." Molly started at the door, whipping around to face him, her eyes wide, her heart beat erratic as it tried to decide between the age old instinct of fight or flight until she identified him. Sherlock.

"You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you." Molly worried her lip with her bottom teeth. He sounded so. . . dead inside. Something was wrong, but what? What could she do to help?

"But you were right. . . I'm not okay," Sherlock continued, finally turning towards her. There was something manic in his eyes that she couldn't identify.

"Tell me what's wrong." Molly said, not stuttering for once. She wanted to be strong. For him.

"Molly, I think I'm going to die." he said, taking a slow step towards her. His voice was so cold, so void. It almost scared her.

"What do you need?"

"If I wasn't everything you think I am, everything I, think I am, would you still want to help me?" Sherlock asked, still walking towards her. Molly could feel him examining her, and she worried that he could hear her heart racing in her chest.

"What do you need?" Molly repeated, unwavering.

"You."

Molly's eyes, if possible, got wider. "How?" She asked, willing to do anything and everything for him.

"I need you to take some of my blood." He said, clearly deep in thought. "Moriarty's trying to kill me. Well, get me to kill myself, actually. I have a plan. Will you help me?" He explained quickly, gripping her shoulders with more strength than necessary, causing her to wince slightly.

"I'll do whatever you need me to." She replied, a shiver running down her spine. She gently put her hands over his and pried his fingers off. They fell away easily once he realized what he was doing. "Sit down. . ." she said, indicating a chair as she gathered what she'd need to take his blood.

Sherlock nodded, taking the seat. He leaned back in it, looking almost calm now. You could almost see the gears grinding in his brain, working over time.

"What's your plan?" she asked, taking his forearm in her hands and tying it off to make his veins stick out. She glanced at his face as his eyes opened to meet hers.

"I plan to live. I'm sorry Molly. The more you know, the more danger you'll be in when this is over. Just make sure you're the one to do my autopsy." He said, his tone still cold, though his eyes displayed all the emotions she needed for reassurance. Sherlock knew what he was doing. She'd trust him.

"Okay." She carefully inserted the needle, and watched the blood start flowing from him, sluggishly filling an air-tight bag. Without the proper pumping system, it was slow-going.

All the while, Sherlock examined her, seeing a new strength that he hadn't known was there. He could tell so much about her, from the fact that she lived alone except for a small feline, to the fact that her father was dead and her mother over-bearing, but he had missed her most essential piece of being. He always missed something. The thought caused him to smirk.

"What?" Molly asked, noting his sudden change.

"There's always something I miss until it's too late." He explained, going no further to reveal his thoughts. He sighed, a long, breathless sound.

She blushed, and looked down at the bag as it finished filling to distract herself. She sealed the bag and removed the needle, tossing it into a nearby bio-hazard bin. "You may be dizzy. . ." She warned as Sherlock stood and took the bag from her.

He seemed unperturbed, unbothered. Apparently, he was more stable after giving blood than she was, probably a good thing given the circumstances.

"Wait for me in the morgue. . . shouldn't be too long." Sherlock said, once again looking down at her. Molly was glad he seemed more in one piece now, back to the calculated genius she loved. Not that she'd ever say it out loud.

She nodded with a small smile. "I will."

"Thank you Molly." He bent down and kissed her cheek lightly. Before she could respond, he was out the door. Gone. She stayed there for who knows how long, stock still, confused. Twice now he's done that. Twice. That's all she could think about. Until her phone went off with a text.

Don't forget. - SH

It snapped her out of her daze, and she went to the morgue to await Sherlock.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Still, two hours later, here she was, pacing in the morgue, waiting.

Suddenly, she heard a commotion above her. With the morgue separated from the hospital by a flight of stairs, she could only wait to be informed. What was going on up there?

The door burst open, and a nurse, Mary Morstan, came in, looking consoling. Mary and she had been friends since Molly had started working a Bart's. She was one of the few people who knew of her feelings for Sherlock, and one of the few people she really opened up to. "Oh Molly, I'm so sorry, you'll never guess what happened."

Molly's eyebrows knit together. "What's wrong Mary? What's happened?"

"Oh darlin', you don't know. . . The consulting detective you're always going on about just jumped off the roof, here. They're bringing him in now. He's dead." Mary said sadly.

Molly's heart dropped. No. That couldn't have been part of the plan. Bart's was six stories high. No one could possibly live from that. No. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she was barely aware of Mary taking her in her arms and holding her. "It's all right. . .It's going to be all right."

Molly stood there, crying on her friend's shoulder in loud keening gasps until she couldn't cry anymore. When she finally stepped away, her eyes were red and swollen. She wiped the last of her tears on her sleeve. "I-is h-hi-is b-b-ody being br-ought here?" She said, hiccuping and sniffling between words.

Mary nodded slowly, still giving her a sad look. "Yes. . .you're the only one qualified to do the autopsy that's here now. . .I'm so sorry."

Molly nodded, numb. "Oh. . .kay. . . I c-c-an d-do it." She said, trying to control herself.

Mary nodded. "All right. . .I have to get back upstairs. . .Good luck." she said, leaving with one last apologetic glance.

As soon as she was alone, Molly collapsed into herself. This couldn't be happening. No. No. God, please no. She sat on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest as she rocked back and forth, trying to hold herself together.

She didn't have long for this though, as sooner lather than later, the doors opened again, this time with a set of paramedics wheeling in a covered body. Of course, she knew whose it was. She stood shakily, and approached as they moved the body onto one of her autopsy tables.

"I'll take it from here." She said quietly, her voice rough from all her crying. They left her then, alone with him. His body. Molly bit her lip hard enough to taste blood in an effort to stop herself from crying again.

She peeled back the covering slowly, and examined Sherlock. His hair and face were covered in blood. Blunt force trauma, from f-falling. A classic suicide injury. God, Moriarty had won.

Shivering, but not from the cold, Molly examined the rest of him. The paramedics had unbuttoned his shirt, trying to get a pulse. It hadn't worked, obviously. His clothing was slightly torn, rumpled, but most of the damage was singled to his head and upper body. She was forced to touch him, finally. He felt so cold.

"Sherlock. . ." She said, looking into his face as another tear slid down her cheek, dropping onto his.

Then, quite suddenly, he took a shuddering breath, and opened his eyes to meet hers. "That hurt more than I thought it would." he said matter-of-factly, groaning in pain.

Molly hit the floor in a dead faint.

That's the end of Chapter one :)

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Thank you to whoever does read this!