Thanks so much for all of the feedback! I'm taking all of the constructive criticism to improve my work:)
I had figured the best place to jump was the roof of the hospital. It was quick, easy, and very personal. Of course there were other options to, uh... ending it all. I had weighed each alternative carefully. A bullet would do the trick, but I'd never have the courage to put a gun to my head. Poison could work, and with Sherlock constantly in the lab, it'd be easy to get my hands around some. Jumping however, was the best solution. I wanted it to be fast. As soon as I hit the concrete, most likely I'd be gone. How ironic. To be surrounded by the dead for so long, and to suddenly be one.
Was I ready for this? Not at all. I just wanted a way out. So much absolute crap had occured lately, and I wasn't strong enough to handle it. Little weak Molly. I was never one to be strong; I always crumpled under my problems. My dad had died. I was so close to the man, without him, I was lost. It was awhile ago, but the memories still sprung fresh tears to my eyes. Also, the Jim thing. It was quite a shock to find out your somewhat ex-boyfriend attempted to blow up your employers. It left me in a state for a long time. We were getting along nicely, too. It's like finding out that your old friend from middle school robbed a bank or something. Oh, and who could forget Celia. My friend since primary school. A few months back I'd been dating this really incredible guy. He was perfect, almost too perfect. I was convinced we were to be together forever. After three months of lunching and some late night clubbing downtown, I walked in on it all. Celia, my best friend from the start, effectively ending another of my relationships. Coupled with other minor things, suicide seemed like a haven to me.
And there was Sherlock, of course.
I'd been in love with the man from first glance. Obviously, he was beyond handsome. His eyes... enough said. They changed color day to day. The man was like no other. Brilliant was the only genuine word for the guy. When he was being kind, he was such an unbelievable man. A day hasn't gone by where he hasn't blown me away. My hopeless love for him made everyday a struggle. It wasn't a crush. It was love. Love was the epitome of all things evil. Because when you love someone who doesn't love you back, you've basically signed yourself up for a free torture session each day, all over someone you love and hate at the same time. Love isn't something you can help. Trust me on that. If there was a way I could stop loving Sherlock, I'd be moving on right away. That's why I go through so many boyfriends. I can never have the same feelings for them as I do for Sherlock. It's unfair.
My life was a train wreck. I had hardly any friends, and the few I had, I wasn't close to at all. They were just friendly people you watched movies with and texted occasionally. Everyone in this world needs a friend. I have no clue how Sherlock managed to function for so long without any. In a way, I was jealous of John. He was the only person Sherlock ever let in. Sherlock cracked his shell open just enough for John to squeeze in, then he shut it up and locked it immediately.
My mind was elsewhere as I stumbled up the uneven steps to the rooftop. I'd only been up there once before. I was terrified of heights, but I guess I was putting myself through the pain. Like I deserved to die. With a deep breath, I placed my hands on the door knob, surprised I hadn't lost it in tears yet. The door eased open and suddenly, everything became very real. The city was sharp around me. Buildings struck the sky and cars traced the roads. London wouldn't stop for me. It would continue swirling through, hour by hour. I'd be just another dead girl in the papers or on the news. A family at a dinner table will see my face, have a sense of pity for the poor, poor ugly girl on their screen for five minutes, flip to another channel and forget of my very existence. And that was life.
*tRaNsItIoN* *Sherlock's POV*
"Can you go any faster?!" I shouted at the flustered cab driver, cursing below my breath. He nodded and stomped on the pedal with the urgency I needed.
"Are you alright? You're usually oddly calm in these kinds of situations. You're kind of scaring me..." John was cowering on the other side of the cab. It almost made me laugh.
"Molly is going to kill herself. Everything adds up. Why are you so calm?!"
"I'm trying not to freak out, okay? We'll be there any minute. Do you know what she plans on doing?"
"She's going to jump off a building, probably the hospital. Molly's afraid of guns and refuses to even touch them. She told me once she couldn't swallow pills and had to opt for medicine, so she wouldn't take a pill. Maybe some form of liquid poison, but I doubt it. Today she wore sneakers, which was strange. Possibly for the long walk to the roof top. Also, she wore a large coat, hat, scarf, and gloves for the cold, when typically she just wears that old sweatshirt. Outdoors... Without a doubt she's going to jump."
John recovered from his expression of amazement, which he wore every time I solved a case. It pleased me.
The cab abruptly paused by the entrance to St. Bartholomew's, but I didn't wait for the complete stop before launching myself out of the car. I burst through the double doors and flew through the halls. The elevator was slow, but much faster than the stairs. I pounded the 'UP' button and by the time it's doors parted, John had caught up with me. He muttered about me owing him taxi money. I didn't hear it over the ringing of my head. Why was I suddenly so concerned about Molly?
There was another flight of stairs to the rooftop, but it was only a problem for John, who was wheezing slowly behind me.
"Slow...down..." he begged, his breath catching in his throat and his voice faltering. I continued plowing through each step until I reached the open door. Good thing she hadn't thought to lock it or place something heavy against it from the outside. It's what I would've done. Maybe she was hoping someone would find her. Maybe she still had hope.
That's when I knew that Molly didn't want to kill herself. Not a piece of her wanted to die. But something was urging her forward, dragging her toes to the ledge...
"Molly!" my voice echoed against each rough building surrounding us. She finally caught my eye, and relief overtook me. John was still frantically searching behind me, but I didn't stop him. My only alarm was with the girl sitting dangerously on the edge, her feet dangling below her in the wind.
"Molly, dear..." a tear sprouted from my eye. I was so off guard. Crying was not something I did. Sherlock Holmes didn't cry. Another tear followed. What was happening to me?
"Sherlock," she murmured, peering up at me through her long lashes. At least I wasn't alone. Tears were streaming down her face. Silent tears. They were the worst kind.
"Molly what... what are you doing? Please, step away. Talk with me down stairs," I beseeched. Her gaze turned to the sidewalk. Her back stiffened and a chill rocketed through her spine. Molly was afraid of the fall, terrified even.
"I want to die."
"No, you don't." I replied matter-of-factly.
"Shut up!" she screeched. I stumbled backwards, so unbelievably astounded. Molly Hooper had never raised her voice for the length of time I had known her. Molly Hooper did not get angry. "You don't know my life!"
John hurried to my side. "Sherlock," he hissed, "let me handle this, please."
"I can do this."
"No, I don't think you can! Sherlock, you can't be apologetic and kind. You're not the type of person who can lure someone from a ledge. In fact, you'd be the one to push them over."
Taken aback yet again, I glared at my supposed friend. "How dare you say that! I can be kind!"
"Only when you're not being yourself!"
"I'm still here," Molly impatiently reminded us. I crouched by her side.
"Please, Molly. I'll do anything for you to just swing your legs over and chat with me."
"How about you come to me, then?" with an unkind smile, she patted the cement to her left.
I went pale. But I'd known Molly for so long, I couldn't willingly stand there and let her die. After breathing slowly, I carefully seated myself along the edge beside her. The concrete below whirled closer. "Please, Molly..."
"Why can't you just let me die in peace? Leave. Now. I don't count to anybody. No one will care."
"I care," I offered with the nicest smile I could conjure. "You're absolutely brilliant, Molly, do you know that? Without you, I wouldn't have solved a single case. You're practically the Robin to my Batman," I added with a nervous chuckle. John began to protest but I silenced him with a wave. "You do count, Molly. You've always counted, and I've always trusted you."
"But you can't love me."
I didn't know what to say. For once in my life, the words were lost.
"You can't fix every mistake I've made. You can't bring my father back to life. You can't find me a good friend or two. You can't change my life. And you certainly can't force yourself to love me."
The words wouldn't come. I tried to speak, but couldn't summon a sound.
Time wasn't of the essence, and every second, she grew closer to the ledge.