Molly didn't understand why he was doing this to her. She wanted to trust him. But in order for her to give him the part of her heart that she'd tucked away for years, she needed something in return. "Say it. Say it like you mean it."
He pauses, and she wonders if it's over, if she actually finally won.
"I-" He starts, and her heart jumps. He's going to do it. She closes her eyes and presses the speaker as close to her ear as she can manage. Because when is she ever going to hear these words again? Even if they aren't real, even if he doesn't mean it, for this moment she can pretend.
"I love you." He says it just like she imagined he would – factually. Like an actor in a play. It is just as painful as she thought it would be. Because it isn't real. It will never be real. Sherlock would never really love her.
She takes a moment to compose herself, to say the three words that would ultimately ruin their relationship.
"…I love you." He says it softly, strange emotions curdling the words. Fear? Realization? ..Love?
Molly pulled the phone away to look at it. She hadn't asked for it twice. Why did he-
"Molly, please." He sounded desperate. She didn't know what was going on, or why he was asking this of her. But she needed to keep her word.
She bit her lip, cradling the phone in her hands. Her mind lingered on the why, and what if's, but she took a shaky breath and held it. "I love you," She whispered.
The line went dead.
She held the phone for a little bit longer, closing her eyes and replaying the moment in her mind. 'I love you...I love you.' All of the pain that she had locked away, the feelings she'd worked so hard to ignore, resurfaced now, stronger than ever. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks as she tried to regulate her breathing. Steady, Molly. Steady.
The conversation didn't leave her with closure, or a broken heart. It left her with something much worse.
Hope.
The camera went blank, and Sherlock let out a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding. "Eurus, I won. I won!" Finally, he bested her. He beat her in at least one of her games. "Come on, play fair. The girl on the plane, I need to talk to her!" He needed to get back to what was at hand before his mind tried to analyze any of what happened just now. He needed to let it go, move on quickly, and distract his mind before any more damage could be done. "I won! I saved Molly Hooper!"
"Saved her? From what?" Eurus' voice rang out loud and clear over the speaker. "Oh, do be sensible, there were no explosives in her little house. Why would I be so clumsy? You didn't win, you lost. Look what you did to her. Look what you did to yourself. All those complicated little emotions, I lost count. Emotional context, Sherlock, it destroys you every time. Now, please, pull yourself together. I need you at peak efficiency. The next one isn't going to be so easy." The door slid open on the other side of the room. "In your own time."
John and Mycroft immediately made their way to the door. "Sherlock?"
Sherlock picked up the lid and gently placed it on top of the coffin. This, this agony, was all for nothing? He lost? No explosives? Sherlock's breathing became labored as his mind started to race. Guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders. He should've noticed that. He should've observed that. It was obvious, looking back. Why hadn't he noticed? Why couldn't he observe?
"Sentiment is a defect found in the losing side."
His own words rang in his ears, reminding him of his hypocrisy. Because here he is, caught up by sentiment. And here he is, on The. Losing. Side.
He didn't notice, because he didn't want to notice. Because some part of him must've wanted to hear Molly say those words-
"No." He cut off his own line of thought. "No!" With all of the pain, confusion, and agony in his being, he smashed the coffin to smithereens. "NO!"
He sat against the wall, panting for breath, reeling in the leftover emotions that hadn't been expelled by his tantrum. John approached, carefully. "I know this is difficult, and I know you're being tortured, but you have got to keep it together."
"This isn't torture. This is vivisection." She had torn out all of his innards and left them on display for the world to see. "We're experiencing science from the perspective of lab rats."
Sherlock got up, trying to put it behind him. At least for now. "Soldiers?"
"Soldiers."
A/N - So there's a million of these now, but here's my contribution. If you like it, I was thinking of doing another chapter about the aftermath. If you don't like it, I might do it anyway. haha.