Okay, thanks first. Big thanks to my girls: MrsMCrieff for giving me advice when this little story was going in the wrong direction. Also, to MizJoely for betaing and for her amazing suggestions. I really couldn't do without these women, and refuse to try. They make me a better writer and make my life fuller. Hugs!

Just a bit of light angst and fluff.

I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~

Molly sat down and smiled at Sherlock. He could tell she was a uncomfortable- slightly nervous actually. Her lower lip was red and raw from excessive biting; she always bit her lips when she was anxious about something. She sat her bag down by her feet and starting picking at the dried skin of the cuticle on her left thumbnail. After drawing a deep breath she finally seemed ready to start her little speech, the one he'd already deduced she had prepared.

"So, how are you?" she asked, looking up at him with a forced smile.

Small talk, Molly? Sherlock eyed her cautiously. He felt like he was walking into a trap. Something had been off, not just with his pathologist but with everyone, for several days perhaps a couple of weeks. He decided to answer her cautiously. "Fine. You?"

She brightened up and gave him her usual sweet smile, though it was laced with sadness. "I think I'm okay."

I think I'm okay? There's a clue there.

"I need to tell you some things- important things. But first," she swallowed. "You know that I love you, right?"

Not a proclamation. No, she assumes that I know, which of course I do. It's as if she's... He swallowed. "Yes," was all he could manage to say.

"Good. And I," she paused and looked towards the windows then back to him. "Thoroughly enjoy spending time with you. I love helping out in the lab or here. Being a part of your work is always fulfilling and rewarding." She nodded at the end of her statement. "I even like going out on cases. I think it's great that we can spend time at each other's flats, just being together." She took another deep breath. "But we've become too dependent upon each other Sherlock. If we're not careful..." She looked down at her hands. "Actually, I'm not sure it hasn't already happened. Well it's just... I have to try a little harder to move on."

Sherlock noted that her smile had faded and that she was having a hard time maintaining eye contact.

"It's not just for me. I think, even though you don't quite understand it, you love me too. In your own way," she added almost as an afterthought. She bit into her lip; it looked painful. "You just don't know what to do with it because it's not what you want. And I don't blame you for that, at all. "But this..." She gestured between the two of them. "It's not healthy. Some distance. Some time. It'll be good for the both of us."

Distance, what the hell? Sherlock thought, but he said nothing because his throat seemed to be swelling shut.

"I, ah well, there's this post at Charing Cross. It's about the same pay but it's a good opportunity. And we can get some d-distance- some space between us. Just see if you and I can remain friends and not see each other every day." She smiled; this time it was completely fake.

Ah, running away. That's your solution...

She absently picked at her thumbnail as he continued to stare at her silently.

"Look, I know you don't like change, frankly I don't either. I'd rather just stay here and pretend everything's fine and this is completely normal. That I'm happy to never have an actual date because every bloke in London thinks that I'm involved with a famous crime solving bad-ass who scares drug lords and FBI agents in equal measure. But I'm not getting any younger." Her eyes suddenly back on the windows, she said, "Not to mention I have... n-needs." She paused to take yet another deep breath and redirected her gaze to him. "I think in the long run you will thank me for this. You don't like complications like this in your life. Disadvantages and such. I, on the other hand, want something more and it's unfair for us to go on pretending that we want the same thing." Her eyes dropped to the floor. "When that's not the case."

Several moments passed before she raised her eyes to meet what must have been an icy glare considering her next words. "Don't look at me like that, Sherlock. You couldn't have imagined that I was simply going to hang around playing mad scientist and watching crap telly with you until we grew old and died, did you?" Her breathing was slightly laboured and her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

She studied him, clearly waiting for a response; when she didn't receive one, she shrugged. "Well, believe it or not, I am trying to do the right thing here. If you don't want to remain my friend, then so be it. But I believe we need some space. If this friendship is worth anything, it will endure." She started to pick up her bag, but Sherlock held up a hand. "What?" He held up his index finger indicating he needed a minute. She rolled her eyes and let the bag drop with a loud thunk.

Sherlock continued to stare at the woman in front of him. Leaving, he thought. All because she's... He shook his head. "You're not moving? Just... leaving Barts?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And is this... when is this happening?" he asked, as if it mattered. Gone was gone.

She took a deep breath. "The job starts in two weeks. I'm training my replacement until then. Hospital protocols and such." She paused. "I'm sorry. I will prepare them for... you."

He nodded then focused his eyes across the room. "You said space. Does that mean we can't see each other... at all?"

A soft whimper drew his attention back to his friend. "Sh-Sherlock, I just... I don't know. I just want to be happy."

"I make you unhappy?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"I don't think this is healthy," she answered, clearly avoiding the question.

Of course she was right. Though her words were jarring, on some level he'd known that what they had couldn't continue. But he thought she had been happy, at least for the time being. He certainly was. Except... yes, there was something missing. It was foolish of him to think she'd just be his... what? Nothing, that was the answer. He'd never expressed any kind of sentiment or intention. So of course she was leaving him. He stood up abruptly as did Molly, picking up her bag in the process.

"This is what you want?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered quickly.

They stared at each other for a moment longer before Molly turned to leave. When she got to the door the reality of the situation struck him. "You didn't ask me what I wanted. Why is that?"

She slowly turned to face him. "Because I know- I've always known."

"Molly, am I the same man you met six years ago?" he asked, taking three steps toward her.

She seemed to think for a moment. "Of course not, Sherlock. You've changed."

"Just as you are not the same woman." Three more steps.

"I suppose not."

"No, you truly are not," he said.

"What are you trying to say?" she asked.

The flat was silent, the only sounds coming from Baker Street below as Sherlock finished his approach. He didn't stop until he was right in front of her. "Is it at all possible that we want the same... things?" Taking more care with his words than he could ever remember doing in the past.

"I don't think you understand. I want..."

"Me," he interrupted. "And I want you. So what's the problem?"

She didn't appear to be breathing for a moment. Then she shook herself. "You know I'm talking about..."

"Sex?" he interrupted once again. "I certainly hope so."

Molly looked even more startled. "Why did you go straight to sex?"

"What else is there? We already fulfill every other need in each other's lives."

"Um, o-kay."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "That's settled then?"

"Ah, no."

"What? Why on earth would you say no?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"You're just trying to get me to stay."

He forced himself not to roll his eyes. "Yes, of course I am. That's how this works. I don't want to be without you," he argued.

"But why?"

"You know why. You said it before. You know how I feel."

"Do you?"

He was thoroughly frustrated now. What does she want? he thought as he paced away and ran his hands through his hair.

"Sherlock, this is too important." Molly was right behind him. "You can't just panic and say what you think I want to hear. Yes, I know you care about me, like I said you probably even love me in as much as you can. But..."

He turned quickly. "You don't think I'm capable of romantic love."

"God I wish..." She looked so sad.

Sherlock took a steadying breath, giving himself a moment to think before speaking. "I didn't expect this- these feelings. Not at all. But since the night you saw me - really saw me - you've been more to me than just Dr. Molly Hooper. That night you saved me and then I had two years to think about you and your role in my life. I may have gotten off track for a while, but we've come so far in the last few months… now I want more." He took one of her hands in his and said, "I need you to believe in me, Molly. I asked you once before if you would still help me even if I wasn't who you thought I was. Can you still do that?"

She seemed to think about his words, then nodded her head.

"Well I'm not him... anymore. So will you? Will you help me, Molly?" He placed his hands on either side of her face, cupping it gently. "I don't want to lose you."

Molly swallowed deeply and with a hopeful look in her eye asked, "What do you need, Sherlock?"

He smiled as he lowered his head. "As always, you." Then he kissed her gently.

Thanks for reading. Your support means the world to me. Love to hear from you! ~Lil~