Molly wasn't entirely sure why she agreed to go with Sherlock to New York on a case, especially since he had insisted on going alone to wherever the hell he was headed. This left Molly all alone in the hotel room that Anthea had booked for them and 'conveniently' there was only one bed. Mycroft's PA was only trying to give her and Sherlock a bit of a push.
After explaining about the phone call, Sherlock had acted as if Molly were a bomb that could set off at any moment. She was sure she had caught him literally tip-toeing around her. They were both aware of each other's feelings, but Molly never expected anything to come of it. And nothing had, really. They were the best of friends, despite his fear of hurting her further than he already had.
Suddenly, though, it all changed when he swept into the morgue three days ago asking if she would accompany him on a case in New York. He proceeded to ramble about how Stamford already approved of it and John wasn't going because he didn't want to be far from Rosie. Of course, the entire story was just a ruse, unbeknownst to Molly. Sherlock had something planned just for the two of them. For once, there really wasn't a case, and he was okay with that. This was also exciting…and a bit nerve-wracking if he were to be honest.
It was evening when they arrived in the Big Apple, and Molly promptly collapsed on the sofa in their hotel room after he had gone out. She was nearly asleep from the jet lag when the sound of Sherlock's voice startled her. It had been two hours since he left her in the hotel room. She watched as he set down boxes and bags as if he'd been shopping.
"You are not sleeping on the sofa, Molly," he told her.
"S'fine," she mumbled sleepily. She let out a shriek when Sherlock lifted her in his arms and settled her on the bed. "You're not sleeping on the sofa either." Molly watched him freeze completely, reverting back to the version of himself he'd been with her the past few months. He turned pale as if he'd seen a ghost, starting to tip toe around the subject they were on.
"I don't sleep on a case," he replied quickly.
"Sherlock," Molly spoke softly, "you don't have to tread carefully around me. I'm not fragile."
"I know you're not," he admitted. "You're the strongest person I know." She didn't expect that reply. "I'm just afraid."
"What are you afraid of?" Molly asked, now sitting upright, inviting him to sit beside her. He accepted her invitation and she gazed into his eyes. They were full of emotion, swirling amongst the beautiful shades of blue and green.
"Losing you," he answered. "If I make one misstep, I could lose you forever. I'm surprised I haven't yet."
"You are not going to lose me," she promised him. "Sherlock, you're my best friend. You did what you had to do to save me. Thank you for that. I'm sorry that I made that situation harder than it needed to be." Before he could answer, Molly gently wrapped her arms around him, but what surprised her was that he returned the gesture, holding her tightly to him. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes, neither wanting to let go.
"Are you sure it's okay?" he questioned, nodding at the bed.
"We've shared one before," she smiled. "How is this time any different?"
They both got ready for bed and slipped under the covers. Whilst Sherlock was fast asleep, Molly was still awake. She knew why this time was different. Unlike the previous instances when they shared a bed, Sherlock was actually cuddling, and was very adamant about holding her. Any time she moved the slightest bit, he hugged her to him just a bit tighter. The feeling of being held by him, the man she has loved for nearly a decade and still loves, relaxed her for the first time in a while. Molly felt content with him. Perhaps taking this case with him wasn't a bad idea after all.
