A/N: This poem-format fanfic was originally written on June 27, 2018, edited by Anne Petersen and originally published on Twitter (as Sue Martha) on June 28, 2018. Cover image is from GratefulFanofSH on Twitter.
"Come at once," the message read.
At the sight, the pathologist shook her head.
"To the roof of St. Bart's," she continued reading;
this arrogance, she thought, she should not be heeding.
But suddenly, her eyes and heart immediately fell:
"PLEASE..." the text said, there was something wrong - she could tell.
She then moved to climb upward where the detective stood,
While whispering a prayer, that this, instead, be something good.
She walked toward him without any noise;
Yet he knew she was there without hearing her voice.
The detective turned slowly and saw her,
Catching sight of her brown eyes, with a look so warm and tender.
Once they stood face to face, he slowly took her hand,
Then without a warning he brought her palm to his face with a thud
One slap, then two more, before she realized what was happening,
To her shock and surprise, she couldn't say a thing.
Then as she removed her hand out of his grasp,
Her eyes turned to his bandaged hand, and she let out a gasp.
With such care she took it and looked at him in a question,
The detective's eye went down with a bit of hesitation.
For an answer she did not wait, a response she did not seek
She only lovingly placed his hand on her cheek,
With her eyes speaking to his as if saying, "It'll be alright,"
Was the moment when he saw the truth so bright.
The words he seemed to have lost he now has found,
His lips slowly moved as he attempted to make a sound.
"I'm sorry," he began, speaking so softly,
Then after a sigh, he muttered, "Forgive me."
She knew with his eyes that the detective meant it;
With a nod and smile she made known to him that she already did.
Thinking it was all he had to say, she turned away
And began to walk back in to continue her work that day.
The pathologist stopped in her tracks all of a sudden
When she heard him speak about what she thought is best forgotten.
At the sound of it, tears from her eyes began to fall,
For in her heart she knew, Sherlock was not pretending at all.
"Molly," he said in a voice so tender, "I hope it's clear to you,"
"That I meant what I said, when I told you…
"I love you."