This is my very first story, please feel free to comment and let me know what I could do better, or whatever you'd like. I'd like the feed back very much to help get better!
Molly sat on her couch, deep in thought. Her boss had just offered her a huge promotion, but there was one problem with it. It would have her living in America. She had been thinking about it for a few hours now. She couldn't help but come up with negatives every time she came up with a positive. She didn't have many relatives or friends living here, and she'd make a lot of money. But Sherlock wasn't in America. But then again, it's not like anything was happening with them. But.. Sherlock.. And I do like my flat here.. She sighed. She was getting nowhere with her decision. She got up and started making tea, trying to calm down. Her boss had given her 3 days to decide and she only had today and tomorrow. She took her tea and went back to her couch. She turned it on hoping a nice romantic comedy would be on, and she lit up as she saw Love Actually on. She ran to her room to grab her giant stuffed bunny to cuddle up with when she got emotional.
The next day, she was getting stressed out over her decision. Her boss needed an answer today. She was working on a body that had come in over two hours before, distracted by her thoughts, when Sherlock walked in. "Molly, I need to steal some body parts, any samples of dirt that may have come in on some of the bodies, and a sledgehammer." She looked up at him as he spoke watching him remove his coat and go over to "his" microscope. She turned away and went back to the body. "I don't have a sledgehammer." was the only thing she replied with. Sherlock stopped and looked at her. "What's going on , Molly?" Molly looked up at him and saw a kindness in his eyes. A kindness that she had never seen before. It made her want to hug him and just tell him everything. She started to tell him about her job promotion that she was offered, and he listened intently, showing little reaction, only an occasional eyebrow raise and briefly widened eyes when she mentioned America. When she finished, she turned to him. "What do you think?" She bit her lips nervously. She didn't know why she was even bothering asking him, why would he care what she did? Sherlock sat there a moment, looking as if he was trying to pick out the right combination of words. Finally, he said, "Nope, you can't go. Who else will work with me and give me body parts. Plus you put up with me, and I've grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle." He looked down at her watching her. She felt tears creeping up in her eyes and ran out of the room. As she ran by, John walked in, watching her run off. He turned to Sherlock. "What did you do this time?" He looked angrily across the room at Sherlock. "I have no idea." He turned back to his microscope, but looked back at John when he felt his glare on him. He sighed then told John everything since he had walked into the morgue.
Sherlock sat in his chair in his flat. He was bored and his mind kept wandering to the hospital. It had been for a few days now; every time he would be just sitting there, he would think of the hospital. More specifically the morgue part of the hospital. He started to get up and put his coat on. He had just wrapped his scarf around his neck when he realized he had no reason to go there. Oh well, I'll think of something to do, he thought. John came running up the stairs. "Oh, going out?" "Yes I need body parts for an experiment." Sherlock replied, walking away. John followed after, Sherlock already getting a cab. "I need to think, you get the next one." Sherlock got into the cab and left John on the sidewalk. John stared after it for a minute then started walking down the street, waiting for another cab. Sherlock sat in the cab thinking. Why did he think about the hospital so much lately? It was starting to confuse him. Especially since he was thinking about who was inside the morgue. Why was he thinking of the hospital so much? And Molly? And since when did he come up with excuses to go places? His thoughts were interrupted by the cabbie telling him he had arrived.
As Sherlock listened to Molly, he found that his thoughts were true. He was happy when she was talking about her promotion. But more importantly, he felt sad and scared when she mentioned moving. He shook the feelings away just as quickly as they had come. This was not him; he did not get sentimental. He was Sherlock Holmes, not sentimental or caring, and married to his work. When she had finished talking, she asked what he thought she should do. He wanted to tell her to stay, that he needed her, that he had grown to actually liking her back. It wasn't love yet, but he still did like her. He had realized this on the cab ride here. But he got scared and told her that he needed her because he had gotten used to a certain lifestyle. He watched her after he said that and saw tears in her eye before she ran off. John walked in demanding what he had done to her. It almost made his heart sink when John asked what he had done again. He honestly didn't realize he had hurt her so much. So when he was done telling John what had happened, he didn't expect John's reaction. "You idiot!" John shouted, angrily. "You know how she feels about you and all you had to say was that you had grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle?!" They had started to walk out of the hospital, heading home. John kept yelling a bit more before realizing the stares around them. Sherlock frowned. He hadn't meant for it to hurt her. He just wasn't sure how to work his own feelings.
After Molly had run off to the bathroom, she dried her eyes and cleaned herself up before going back to the lab. Luckily, Sherlock had left. She hung her coat up and grabbed her bag. She only had twenty minutes left in her day anyway. She got home and called her boss. She had made her decision.
The next day, Sherlock walked into the morgue, finding a man in the corner. The flowers he was holding drooped. "Where's Dr. Hooper?" Sherlock looked at him, deducing that he had just gotten this job, his mother was sick and that he had three, no four cats. "She's at home. Her plane leaves tomorrow morning." He had barely gotten his sentence out before Sherlock had run out of the morgue, a flower flying out of his bouquet.
Molly was packing when she heard someone knock on the door. She opened to find Sherlock, holding flowers. Molly gave a confused look at both the flowers and Sherlock before speaking. "Yes, Sherlock, what do you want? I'm quite busy". Sherlock seemed out of breath. "I need to talk to you, Molly." He held out the flowers. "I got these for you.. To apologize for yesterday." Molly took them and took a deep breath in, smelling them. "They smell wonderful. Come in." She moved out of the way and started walking before Sherlock reached out and grabbed her arm. "Please, I need to speak to you. Now." She looked into his eyes and saw a pleading look. She sighed. "Go ahead." Sherlock looked into her eyes, his intense bluish green eyes boring into her soul. "Molly, I didn't mean to hurt you yesterday. I was being selfish with my emotions." He paused looking at her. "When I said I didn't want you to go, I wasn't lying. I just didn't say all of what I wanted to say." He bit his lip, unsure of how to continue his thought. Molly touched his arm. "It's okay, say what you want to." She gave a small smile up at him. "I have been thinking about you a lot lately and I didn't even need to go to the hospital yesterday, I just wanted to, and I came up with a lame excuse to go and when you said you might move to America, it felt like a burning knife was being shoved into my heart and being twisted. I have also realized that I might have feelings for you." Molly stared up at him, her mouth hanging open. She had never heard Sherlock say he had feelings for anything, not even his work, let alone a person. She kept staring, unsure of what to say. Sherlock stood in front of her looking around awkwardly. Finally he spoke again. "Molly, since you seem to have no intention of speaking again in a while I will continue. I'm sorry if that was a lot to take in, I had no intention of telling you most of that, but the mere thought of you not being there for me, with me, just nowhere near, hurts. I didn't even know that was possible for me, but you.." Molly's lips pressed against his, cutting his sentence short. He pressed back after a moment of shock. Her hands found the back of his head and he let his wander down to her hips. They were like that for a moment until Molly pulled away. "I'm sorry." She blushed deeply, and avoided eye contact, unsure where to look. Sherlock put his hand under her chin and kissed her gently once more. "Please don't leave me." He looked pleadingly into her eyes. "Not for all the money in the world." She smiled and pulled him to her once more for another kiss.