Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, and this story is un-betaed, so please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

There'll be times

When my crimes

Will seem almost unforgivable"

Strangelove - Depeche Mode

Three sharp knocks. A pause. Then another one.

Molly rushed to the door, ignoring the peephole. It was their code; a simple one, sure, but it worked. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see that John Watson looked worse than her. It seemed like he had taken a dive in a swimming pool with all his clothes on, and he had no time to change. She dared to take a sniff, but when the rancid smell reached her nostrils, she quickly regretted it. When she stopped examining his attire, she felt surprised to see that the doctor was scrutinizing her, too.

"John, hi! Is it about Rosie? Do you need me to take over from Mrs. Hudson?" she rushed to ask, but John shook his head.

"No, Rosie is fine, Mrs Hudson is staying at mine for the night. Listen, may I have a word with you… Inside, possibly?"

Molly blushed and let him in. "I'm sorry, John, it's just that I'm not-"

"Having a good day…" he finished, and Molly gaped at him. "John, please tell me that you're not here to speak to me about Sherlock Holmes. You have no idea of what he did this time, and-"

John stopped her once again. "I know what happened, Molly. I was there."

He watched as she closed her eyes, and let out a shaky breath; when her gaze fell on him again, it was blank. "Then I must ask you to leave me alone, John. Please… Go away."

"Not before you let me explain what happened, and why Sherlock called you and said… What he said. You may think that he tried to manipulate you, but you know that I won't do it to you, Molly. You're my friend, you're my daughter's godmother, and you deserve to know the truth. Let me tell you the truth, please."

John raised a hand, and tentatively squeezed her arm, letting his hand travel down, until he reached her hand. Wordlessly, he guided her to the sofa, and waited for her to sit down; only then, he plopped down.

"Where should I start? Oh, well… Do you know that Sherlock has a sister? Of course you don't because none but Mycroft knew it. Sherlock erased her existence from his memory when he was still a child, and now, after this day, I can't blame him."

John told her everything: how Eurus was the most intelligent Holmes, how she had played with all their lives for years, without even Mycroft, the British Government himself, (the man who had put his sister in a heavily guarded, isolated fortress to protect his little brother, his own family and his country) really understanding what she was capable of, until it was too late. He watched as Molly's eyes filled up with tears, as he described Victor Trevor's death, and how Eurus tortured everyone, during their stay at Sherrinford. He didn't leave anything out… But the phone call.

At last, after asking for a cup of tea, John decided that it was the right time, for Molly to know what had happened when Sherlock had called her.

"Eurus told us that someone was going to die, and it would be a tragedy; I had a feeling that it would be personal, this time. Someone we know, someone whose death would leave a hole in our lives." He took a sip of tea, and continued. "There was an open coffin, in the center of the room… And a lid, leaning on a wall. No name on it, just three words…"

"I love you." Molly's feeble voice said, and John felt a pang to his heart, hearing her saying those words, like she didn't believe in them anymore. It would be cruel to go on, but he needed to do it.

"Sherlock deduced it was you, the one that his sister wanted to kill. She told us that your flat was to explode in three minutes, unless you said the release code. She was bluffing, but we didn't know then. We couldn't tell you that you were in danger; Sherlock had to make you say those three words to him, to save you."

He let his words sink in, waiting for Molly to comprehend that Sherlock wasn't trying to use her again, to manipulate her feelings as he had done many times before.

"And I- I refused to say them… Only because I was sure he was trying to humiliate me!", she sobbed, and John hugged her tightly, murmuring words of comfort, until she calmed down, and hurried to her kitchen to find a kleenex.

"Molly, when he said…" John hesitated, then started again. "You may think that he said those three words to you without meaning it, to save your life… But believe me, I saw Sherlock manipulate people many times; he's such a cock that he made me believe that I was chased by a giant dog in a lab at Baskerville, that I was going to die in a Tube's carriages-"

"They're cars, not carriages", Molly said, and for a brief moment, John saw the shadow of a smile on her lips.

"You know Sherlock. You see through all his bullshit; you see him. Eurus wanted Sherlock to suffer, and the most efficient way to do it was to make you suffer because of him, to make you believe that the only way he would say those words to you, was during one of his stupid experiments."

Molly remained silent. In her mind she was replaying their exchange: every words, every hesitation, every sign of discomfort in his voice. For a moment, when he said it the second time, for a moment she felt like he wasn't lying to her; but she didn't know if it was only her love for him, wanting desperately to believe that he loved her too.

"Before we moved to the next room, he tore apart that coffin with his bare hands. I've never seen him lose control like that, Molly… And I've seen Sherlock doing many strange things."

Finally John stood up. "He wanted to save you so much, that he decided to sacrifice any chance to have you by his side, in any way, just to be sure that you would live another day."

Molly watched him reaching the door, and turning to her. "I'm not asking you to forgive him. You didn't answer his call the first time, so it's obvious you were angry with him for other reasons, and I'm convinced that he deserve to crawl at your feet, before you decide that he's worthy of your pardon. But Molly… at least, give him a little hope that he has not lost you. The man I saw today, destroying the coffin that we believed would contain your body, was a man without hope. Promise me you will think about it, I'm not asking for more."

She approached him, and hugged John. "I- I'll do it, John. I just need time, but… I will try."

"That's enough for me." He kissed her cheek, and left Molly Hooper alone, already waiting for the day when he would see her next to Sherlock, again.

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