Molly visits Sherlock while he is in hospital after being shot by Mary.

This just came to me yesterday and I sat down and wrote it.

It starts out angsty, but turns fluffy because I just can't help it with these two :-P

V – Visitor

Hospitals were not quiet places. There was always an incessant beeping, either of a heart monitor or some other machine that kept track of the person's vitals. In spite of this though, Molly could not help but find them to be rather peaceful. At least, that's how she used to think of them. Even while her father lay dying, she found the surroundings to help keep her emotions at bay, and her heart and mind calm.

But not now. Not this time. Not when Sherlock Holmes, the man she was still so desperately in love with, lay stretched out before her slowly recovering from a bullet wound that had very nearly killed him. It was nearing two a.m., and he had yet to wake up.

She needed to hear his voice. She needed to feel his silvery-blue gaze upon her. She needed to know that he was all right. She needed to know that he would still be there, just out of her reach. She needed to tell him that she loved him, and that she would never stop loving him, no matter what.

"Please wake up," she softly implored. "Please."

Her fingers were clasped around his, her forehead resting on the top of his hand. She was unaware of the fact that she was repeating the same words over and over, asking him, begging him to wake up. Suddenly she felt his thumb lightly sweep across hers. Her head shot up, his eyes narrow slits.

"You're awake," she breathed out, blinking her eyes open further.

He tilted their still-clasped hands so that he could run the tip of his finger over the bare flesh of hers. "You ended your engagement," he stated, his voice low and hoarse from disuse.

In spite of herself, Molly let out a quiet laugh. "Is that all you can say?"

"Why did you end it?"

She tightened her hold on his hand. "Don't you know?"

With a slight flinch of discomfort he brought his other arm over his chest, so that he could brush his fingertips across her cheek, his eyes meeting hers. "I'm not worth it Molly. I don't think I could ever make you happy."

She leaned her cheek against his fingers. "I know that's what you think Sherlock, but I don't believe you. You did tell me once that I was the one that mattered most. That couldn't have just been a slip of the tongue; you never have a slip of the tongue."

He dropped his hand down to his stomach, letting out a slow, slightly uneven breath, before tearing himself away from her strong gaze.

"Please Sherlock … can we at least try?" she pleaded. "I-I think it's worth giving us a chance. And if it doesn't work out, if we can't make a relationship work … then we end it, and we just go back to being as we were."

He shook his head. "I've hurt you so many times Molly, I've said such awful things, why haven't you ever given up on me?"

She stared down at their still joined hands before lifting his up and placing a kiss upon his fingers. "Because I love you, you foolish git."

She heard his sharp intake of breath, and knew that it wasn't from a sudden surge of pain. Ever so slowly she raised her eyes to meet his.

"Didn't expect that, huh?" she asked. "The Great Sherlock Holmes unable to deduce that mousy Molly Hooper is in love with you."

He grimaced slightly. "I've never thought of you as mousy. But yes, you're right. I never once thought that you were in love with me."

"Just thought it was some silly crush, eh?"

He shook his head. "Not silly, no. I just didn't understand it. I never could fully comprehend why you were interested in me, and I found that greatly annoying; that I couldn't figure you out. I've never been able to read you like I can with everyone else. You are a mystery, Molly Hooper. A puzzle."

"Well … perhaps you would like to spend the rest of your life trying to solve me?" she asked.

"Don't joke Molly."

She twitched her nose slightly. "Mmm, you're right, that was rather awful."

He gave her hand a slight tug forwards. "Come here."

"What?"

He gave her hand another tug. "Come here, up on the bed. You must be cold."

She blinked at him for a moment, then took note of where his wires and tubes were before she stood and toed off her shoes. All the while he still held onto her hand. She climbed onto the bed and stretched herself out beside him. He turned their hands again, bringing them palm to palm, lacing their fingers together before placing them over his heart. She could feel the steady beating through his skin.

"Can I tell you something, Sherlock?" she asked.

"Mmm?" He turned his head, their noses very nearly touching; their eyes locking onto each others.

"I think you're in love with me too."

He breathed out slowly. "Damn. I thought I had hid that so well."

She giggled slightly. "You may be able to fool everyone else, but you can't fool me. I knew you were jealous of Tom."

"Wellll … more so insulted."

Molly eyebrows knit together. "Insulted?"

"Yes. How dare you get yourself engaged to a near carbon copy of me?"

She giggled again. "I was trying to make you mad, get your attention. Tom's a nice bloke and all, I did like him … but I didn't love him."

"And yet you were going to marry him."

Her eyes dropped down. "Yeah, I was. I had convinced myself during those two years you were away that I couldn't just sit around and wait for you to come back. There was no guarantee that anything could ever happen between us. So … I met Tom … and we had fun together, and I thought I could possibly be happy with him. If I couldn't have you, I'd at least have someone that closely resembled you. Oh God, saying it out loud just makes me sound pathetic." She hid her face in Sherlock's shoulder.

"Not pathetic, no, you're not pathetic at all. Molly, look at me."

She tilted her head back, her brown eyes peering up at him.

"You really, truly want to do this, be with me?"

Her answer came instantly, without hesitation. "Yes."

"Even with the drugs, what I did to Janine … all of my rude deductions … you still want … me?"

She nodded. "Yes."

He held her gaze. "All right."

Her eyebrows rose. "All right?"

"Molly Hooper, I would like to spend the rest of my life trying to solve the puzzle that is … you."

She blinked back tears. "Was that a proposal?"

"Possibly."

She exhaled a soft laugh as he tightened his hold onto her hand, bringing his other one up to cup the side of her face.

"Aren't we supposed to kiss now?" he asked her.

"Git."

Their lips met. The kiss started out slow, cautious, neither one of them certain of how the other would react. Eventually the kiss grew in passion, deepening. She was careful to avoid touching his bullet wound as their hands parted in order to hold each other more fully.

"Molly …?"

She hummed against his lips in answer.

"Thank you for saving my life."

She kissed him again, making sure to file away his words for further questioning at a later time. For now she wanted to just bask in the sensation of his mouth against hers, and his hands roaming across her body.

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