Mary Watson was disgusted with herself.

When she found her husband alive, she did not care and jumped to hug him. He was alive, and that was the only thing mattered to her. It was only when he did not respond that she should have realized that not everyone came unscratched.

Molly Hooper is dead, and Mary felt ashamed to be happy about it. If Molly did not sacrifice herself, then maybe John wouldn't be standing in front of him. Her child would be fatherless, and for a second, she felt relieved that Molly died instead of John.

And she hated herself for that.

John was a soldier, and he knew that he cannot save everyone. He watched many people die in his years in the military, but it was different when he saw Molly jump to her own death.

Turns out, Sherlock did have a plan. He had contacted Mycroft before he reached St. Bart's, and the and the elder Holmes and Lestrade were taking down the snipers, but let the gun stay on them so that Moriarty would not suspect. After the threats were eliminated, they would come and catch Moriarty red handed.

Molly and John did not know about it.

It was only after 30 seconds that Molly fell that the police officers came barging and Sherlock running down along with him. It was too late, and the sight of Molly laying in her own pool of blood would haunt John forever.

Sherlock had stood there, his eyes wide and a blank expression. Mary comes waddling to him, her huge stomach cannot allow her to run. She jumps on him, but he still cannot comprehend anything. Molly died, and he would forever be in her debt.

He just wishes she is alive to let her know that.

Sherlock is numb, his mind is all jumbled because of her.

When he sees her body covered in her own blood his mind shuts down and he doesn't care about anything else. In his mind palace, everything becomes disoriented, and everything becomes related to her.

Molly Hooper, the girl who thought she didn't matter.

He remembers everything about her, and suddenly it becomes too much. He does not want to feel this pain and wants to forget about this. He wants drugs, but then suddenly he remembers her disappointed face, and suddenly he stops. He wants to meet her, so he closes his eyes.

He goes to her room in his mind palace, the one he keeps locked and hidden in his mind. He sees her, and actually sees her. Her brown eyes softens when she sees him enter the room. She sitting in a couch, her legs tucked under her. Her hair is in a side ponytail, and she is wearing her glasses, a book in her hand.

"You never visited here before," her voice is soft and nice that Sherlock breaks down. He feels her arms around him, whispering in her soothing voice. He wants to be with here, with her for as long as he can. And she lets him, pulling him beside her and snuggling to him. Her small fingers goes through his soft curly hair, relaxing him further in her arms.

He does not know how long he stays there, but he does not want to wake up. "You have to Sherlock," she whispers. "You have to go, everyone needs you."

"But I need you," Sherlock said, his voice cracking.

"And I am always here, with you, in your heart," Molly says, smiling.

"Always?"

"Always."

"I will always regret it, you know, not telling you," he whispers, his hands cradling her cheeks. He kisses her forehead softly, and looks at her small sad smile.

"I know, Sherlock."

When he comes back, he finds himself in the living room with John. His best friend had been staring blankly, but he noticed when Sherlock came back from his mind palace.

"The funeral is tomorrow," John said.

And then there is no conversation. It wasn't need, both men were coping with the reality in their own ways. They both were lost in their own grief, and it was only when Mrs. Hudson came up with tea (that wasn't used) crying silently with Mycroft did the two men stir. It was obvious for anyone that John had been crying with the red eyes that he was spotting. But Sherlock was another case, with his blank face, everyone would have believed he really did not care. But Mycroft always noticed more than anyone else. Sure, John, Mary, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade could see that Sherlock was hurt because they knew him. But Mycroft knew more and he could see the rage and sadness in Sherlock and it clicked to him.

Oh God.

The funeral is small, like Molly would have wanted. It was not extravagant, and many people attended it. It didn't surprise Sherlock at all, as he always knew that Molly did matter to many people. He just wishes that she could have seen it.

John, Mary, Sherlock stay till the end, and waits till everyone has left the graveyard. He stares at the beautiful headstone, and just hates it.

Here lies Molly Hooper

The One who Mattered the Most

"Sherlock," John was about to start.

"Shut up John." He really wasn't in mood to talk.

"We decided to name our baby Molly," Mary tells him softly.

And he looks at him, his eyes filled with tears that he refuses to let go. And that's when they get it too. Sherlock cannot speak because his throat closes up, but he nods gratefully at them. The Watsons leave him alone with her, and John dies a little inside knowing what he hadn't done.

Sherlock lost his pathologist and maybe something even more.

After few hours, Sherlock is still there, sitting in front of her grave. His eyes red and mind numb, he hated himself even more. He never really appreciated what he had at all, and now he could never let her know anything. He lost her forever.

Moriarty is dead for good, and Sherlock wasn't happy. Even in his death, Moriarty managed to destroy Sherlock forever.