This Wasn't Supposed to Happen
"What am I supposed to do John?" You of all people know that I can't be what she deserves," I know I'm practically shouting at him, but that's always been a normal occurrence in our friendship. He's got that stare on his face that says he's annoyed with me.
"You're right you don't deserve her and you never will, but that doesn't mean that you can't make her happy you stupid git," he responded after a moment.
"But I was never supposed to fall in love with anyone, let alone her." I wanted to stalk off towards my bedroom, but I know John will just follow. He's not going to let this go now that he's finally gotten the truth out of me.
I look around the flat taking in my jumbled décor and experiments taking up any free surface. I think about my lifestyle, always rushing off to solve the latest mystery, hardly sleeping or eating. My walls are still covered with evidence from the latest crime I solved for Lestrade. And let's not forget the bullet holes from the day I was bored. What could I possibly offer a woman?
I found that I had started pacing with my head clutched in my hands, and I could feel John's disapproving eyes following my progress just waiting for the perfect moment to give me more of his opinion on the subject. I decide to get my scolding over with so I can go on trying to compartmentalize these foreign feeling I find myself suddenly feeling. How had my life been reduced to sentiment and emotion?
"Are you at least going to tell her?" I was surprised at his simple question. I was so sure that he was going to give me some sort of lecture.
"I don't know, I haven't figured out anything past the knowledge that I am in love with her."
"She's been in love with you for years Sherlock, the least you could do is tell her you have feelings for her. You don't even have to use the word love, just give her some sort of clue to her importance. You have to admit that she's been getting mixed signals from you since your return. And you damn well know that you're the reason she broke off her engagement," his voice boomed in the small flat.
"And how do you propose I tell her. I can't just walk up to her in the morgue or lab and say 'I love you,'" frustration was filling my voice and I hated that. I am so used to being in control of everything around me, and these emotions were not something I could control. I could use a cigarette right about now, but knew that John had cleaned out my stash after my drug relapse and I hadn't replaced it.
"She's over here all the bloody time helping you with whatever convoluted experiment you have going on. Why can't you tell her then?" I took in his words, knowing he was right. I had been inviting her over quite often to work on experiments with me. We'd even had dinner together a few times.
"I don't know John. Maybe things would be better if we just went on as is. I can keep myself in check, she doesn't need to know. I'm not even sure she would believe me at this point."
"You stupid arse," he was yelling at me, "when she come over today, and don't tell me she's not, you are bloody well going to tell Molly Hooper that you're in love with her!" Somehow his voice getting luder with every word in his exclamation.
With all of John's shouting neither of us had heard the footsteps on the stairs or the door opening. She always did have the worst timing, then again maybe she had perfect timing. She startled both of us when she finally spoke.
"What?" I could see the surprise on her face, and I wasn't at all sure what she could see on mine.
"And with that I'm going to head out," John said before practically running out the door in an effort to avoid any impeding confrontation.
"What was he talking about Sherlock?" her voice was shaky as she asked her question.
For the longest time all I could do was stare at her. She was wearing one of her abysmal cardigans, her caramel hair up in its customary ponytail, her gaze never wavering from my face.
I didn't know what to say. I knew that she didn't believe that I could love her, that's why she was questioning me. How could she ever believe me? I had screwed up too many times with her for her to ever believe me capable of something as mundane as emotion or love.
"Sherlock, stop staring at me and tell me why John was shouting at you and saying that you love me?" She had apparently found her courage because her voice was demanding and no longer unsteady.
"He was yelling at me because, because I didn't want to tell you about my feelings. I didn't want things to change because I know you could never believe that I had fallen in love with you, that you would leave if I told you," I whispered looking away from her not wanting her to see the hurt that I was sure was written on my face.
I turned back around when I felt her hand on my back. It was a tentative touch, and I closed my eyes wanting to memorize the feel.
"Sherlock," her voice was soft and warm, "look at me please." I opened my eyes, looking down at her, I didn't see disbelief. She had a slight smile on her face. She reached up to touch my face, and I couldn't help closing my eyes again. I felt so many different emotions with that small caress. I couldn't seem to compartmentalize them all as they flooded within.
"I already knew Sherlock," she explained, making my eyes pop open in an instant. She was still cradling my face, and I could see the love shining on her face.
"What do you mean you already knew? Knew what?"
"That you were in love with me."
"But how could you know when I only just figured it out myself?"
"What is it you always say to John? 'You see but do not observe,' right?" I nodded in response. "I've known you a long time Sherlock, and I noticed the changes in you. After we faked your death, and you came home everything was different. You made an effort when it came to me. Hell you even remembered Tom's name," I cringed at the name of her ex-fiancé. "I know you let me slap you after your relapse, you could have stopped me, but you didn't. And when Moriarty returned you kept me safe, I would've been fine with the security that Mycroft had offered, but you kept me close to you needing to know that you wouldn't lose me. And even now, I'm here almost every day. You don't need help with most of these experiments. I'm sure you've even done some of them before. And let's not forget that you've asked me to dinner every night this week, and you even ate when you were on a case," she explained, and she was right on all accounts. How could I not have known my own feelings when Molly clearly had?
"Why didn't you say anything then?"
"Because I knew that you would have a hard time accepting it. I knew that you would tell me when you were ready. I figured I had already waited countless years for you, so I figured I could wait a little longer."
With her words I did the only rational thing I could think of. I pulled her into my arms before kissing her with all the emotion that I had kept bottled up inside all these years. I found that I wanted to stay in this singular moment for as long as possible. All too soon she broke the kiss, but didn't pull away from our embrace. Her hands were tracing circles along my neck creating goose bumps that covered my skin.
"I love you too Sherlock," she whispered into my ear, "I'm glad that I waited for you."
"Me too Molly, me too," I replied before kissing her once again.