It's funny how silence can speak louder than words. One moment, you're forcing each other to say 'I love you,' and the next, you fall back into a quiet companionship two weeks later. They never spoke to one another, but an understanding was reached, nonetheless. Sherlock would work quietly in the lab whilst Molly filled out paperwork. They examined a couple of corpses without so much as a nod. Mycroft had informed Molly of all that transpired at Sherrinford despite Sherlock's wishes, but it made things less awkward between them.
Of course, all of that changed a month later. It started off with simple 'hellos' and 'goodbyes,' eventually graduating to small talk. This would seem to be a normal development except for the fact that it was widely known that Sherlock hated small talk. Regular conversation ensued after the incident in which Molly had lost her footing in the lab. She had grabbed the counter he was sitting at to catch herself, but instead brought an empty glass flask down with her. It shattered on impact, some of the glass cutting her arm. It had all happened so fast, but Sherlock was by her side immediately.
"Molly!" his voice was filled with panic. He lifted her up in his arms and set her on the stool he had been sitting at. Upon inspecting her arm, there was no glass caught in it, but she had a couple of cuts. Nothing was said as he cleaned her wound, having learned from memory how she had cleaned his in the past.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"I am," she replied. "Thank you." Silence. Then…
"I miss you." This was spoken in unison, his cerulean eyes meeting the deep brown of her own.
"I know it's been hard for you, Sherlock. I'm sorry for all that you've been through," Molly continued. "You probably thought I hated you. I could never. Despite it all, you're still my best friend. I understand why you had to make me say those words. You saved my life…or, at least, you thought you did."
"Do you—" he paused, wondering if he should finish his question. She clearly hadn't realized that he meant it. "Do you still love me?"
"Yes." It was just one word, but it meant the world to him in that moment.
"I need you to know, Molly, that I"— he took a deep breath—"I meant it." A small smile appeared on her face.
"I know," she admitted. "I would've never made you say it if you didn't love me back. I've known for a while now. It's just, I also knew you would need time to realize it, yourself." Sherlock looked bewildered. It would have been comical had the conversation not been so serious. "But you gave me no choice that day, Sherlock. I know it wasn't your fault, but at the time, I had no knowledge of that."
"I wish I was ready," he told her. "For you, for a real relationship."
"Don't rush yourself," Molly advised him. "I'm not going anywhere."
That day, he went home knowing that Molly Hooper was much more clever than he could ever be, in ways that he may never understand. It's terrifying when someone knows you better than you know yourself, but it didn't scare Sherlock. In fact, he felt more at peace that someone like Molly understood him that much when he spent his whole life around people who never understood him one bit.
Author's Note: I promise I'll finish To Love Like Fools. It's just that the inspiration for it has run dry and I'm desperately trying to get it back. In other news, February 11th is the 1 year anniversary of my first Sherlolly fic, and this fic is my 100th Sherlolly fic!
