A/N: The second chapter of this is for the wonderful thedragonaunt. Again, sorry, not Sherlolly:D She gave me disparate, desperate and diaspora! Most fun!

Thanks to johnsarmylady for helping me to get Molly to behave!

I do not own. If I did tda I would let you visit:D

Molly stood resolutely beside Sherlock as they heard the sound of a slow, tired tread approach the door. Part of her wished to flee, lose herself, the knowledge they were about to face the one person who was damaged more than the rest in the deception of Sherlock's fake suicide weighed her down.

But Molly was brave, far braver than most gave her credit for. She squared her shoulders and stuck out her chin. The door slowly creaked open and a diminished figure stood on the steps and blinked, wonder and distress upon his face as he gaped at the only entity he could see. Despite the lack of familiar apparel and the ginger cast to his hair, John knew Sherlock immediately. He squinted and raised a hand to rub at his eyes and then looked again.

As awareness replaced confusion, Molly saw the moment John understood that Sherlock standing there meant Sherlock was alive and not dead and for that to happen then some trickery must have been involved. Ripples of anger slowly spread upon the shorter man's face. His stance was rigid, rage and hurt battling each other for placement upon his visage, disparate yet related to the events of two years ago.

Sherlock said one word.

"John"

John said five.

"No! This is not happening."

And the door slammed heavily in the resurrected man's face.

Sherlock's shoulders slumped and he leaned forward, placed a solemn hand and a weary head against the door. He paused, grabbed the handle and entered into the building he had once called home, leaving without a backwards glance to the negative space that was Molly Hooper.

Molly stood there, the impression of slight abandonment filling her, not quite the feeling of diaspora she could have immersed herself in, had she not realized Sherlock's one focus was and always would be John. He did not intentionally or cruelly forget about her as he might have done, once upon a time. It was simply that someone else mattered more.

Fortunately for her Sherlock, in his haste, had left the door ajar and she was able to slip in sideways. She stood looking up the stairs he had climbed just ahead of her. She could hear angry shouting from where she was and quiet murmurs in response.

She followed after and entered into the first floor flat to see the two men her existence depended on staring at each other, one with a bloodied lip, the other nursing a bruised fist.

Neither noticed her. The story of her life.

She cleared her throat a little. "Please don't, John."

John looked up even more startled than he had when seeing a living Sherlock.

"Molly?" he said, surprise and confusion evident, his eyes roamed the room.

"Over here," she said as cheerily as she could, always trying to look on the bright side. John's eyes widened and he glanced at the man he was angry with, possibly more angry than he had ever been with anyone else.

"Oh, hmmm, yes. I know you can't see me. Supposedly it has something to do with guilt. Or at least that's what we think. But please don't be mad. Well I guess you can be mad. Most people would be. Sherlock did it for you, you know."

John could not look more confused if he tried, his mouth opened and closed rather fishlike, Sherlock, in his usual careless way, was quick to point out.

"Shut it, you." John growled at him. "Molly, what the hell? Why can't I see you?"

"Oh, well you see, I knew about Sherlock's jump. I sort of helped him and it has made me disappear."

John's face went white with pain.

"You knew?" He said in a furiously soft voice. It was far more painful to listen to than had he yelled at her.

"Um, yes. But has he explained why? Have you heard him out?"

John simply looked stunned. He abruptly sat down and ran his hands through his hair. "God, no! Explained what? Explained that he jumped in front of me? That I thought he was dead? That I couldn't…couldn't save him." His voice trailed off and the hand in his hair covered his mouth.

"That he did it to save you. You and Greg and Mrs. Hudson." Molly decided enough with the nonsense and got to the heart of the matter.

John shook his head and looked up at his friend.

"Is that true?" he asked, eyes gleaming with an amalgamation of destruction and wonder.

"Yes," came the answer.

John looked down at his clasped hands. "You should have told me."

"I couldn't."

"No, not you. Her."

Molly felt a faint blush creep upon her skin. It was disconcerting, but Sherlock raised an eyebrow in her direction, as if he was aware she was embarrassed.

Well, of course, he probably is, she thought.

"I'd promised. I am so sorry John. But you can't break a promise." She paused and thought. "What would you have done? If you had been in my place? What would you do for Sherlock Holmes?"

John just stared and then a slight convulsion went through his frame. It didn't look like there was much holding him together anymore, insubstantial in his own way, thinner than he had been two years ago.

"Everything," he whispered.

He turned to his friend, his flatmate, his consulting detective, his Samuel Johnson.

"You really couldn't have let me in on your parlor trick?"

Sherlock shrugged, an odd look on his face. "No. There wasn't time. I was desperate and desperation can kill you. I too would do everything." He stepped closer to John. "There is only one John Watson." There was a long pause as the two men stood and stared, eye contact maintained, a plea in one set, the beginnings of acceptance in the other. Sherlock broke the thick silence. "And if it had gone the way it was supposed to I wouldn't have had to jump. But it didn't. I had to be prepared you see. I am really very sorry, John."

John nodded. "I am still extremely angry with you. I may be extremely angry with you for a very long time, but I …guess I understand." He shrugged, still vibrated with the shock and confusion of the return. "We aren't finished with this Sherlock, just so you know."

He turned to where he sensed Molly's presence. "Molly? I know how Sherlock can make you do things you never thought you'd do in a million years. He tends to blow over you and through you and whirl your emotions and thoughts and before you know it, you are rushing across London to send a text. You are not to blame." He crossed over to where she was sat and felt for her hand. She lifted it up and met him so he could feel it, despite her invisibility.

He tugged and pulled her to her feet. She felt his arms go around her and he hugged her briefly and in an action echoing Sherlock, kissed her cheek. She reacted with surprise and whispered, "Can you see me?"

"You were never really invisible Molly and it wasn't my forgiveness you required so much as your own. You just camouflaged yourself with fear and remorse and uncertainty. I can see you, now. The question remains, can you?"

Molly turned to where the mirror hung over the fireplace. She could see John standing there his arms hugging something. The longer she stared the more solid the something became until she was indeed back.

John beamed at her, his eyes still watery and the pain near the surface but not all-consuming as it had been. "You are a brave and marvelous wonder, Molly Hooper. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You should show this side of yourself to the world more often. I understand and forgive you."

Molly's blushed deepened. "Oh, well, it's all good. Thank you, John. I am really very sorry."

He shook her lightly. "Enough. We need to celebrate the return of Sherlock Holmes. Have you told Mrs. Hudson yet?"

Sherlock paled. "No. I was…could you…no."

John grinned, looking more like himself than he had in the last two years.

"Well this should be interesting." He looked toward Molly. "Will you come?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No. No, I have things to do now. Being invisible can give you quite a need to be observed. I think I will go for a walk along the Thames and perhaps see the world." She smiled and left, skipping down the stairs of the flat, leaving the two men to work out their emotions, to get over their awkwardness and to break the news to Mrs. Hudson. As much as Molly wanted to see that, she felt the need to be with people.

Down the street toward the tube station she wandered, the heart beating in her chest lighter and more at ease than it had been in the last two years.

Today was a new beginning. Who knew what tomorrow would bring.