Hello, everyone

This is a story that has been sitting in my unfinished fics folder for over two months. Damn you, procrastination :-D

This story is unbetaed, so the mistakes are all mine.

So many days are to be lived. So many words are already said and so many more will be said. Because they finally realized that they have always been each other's destination no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, and no matter how hard she believed it would never happen.

Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper have finally stopped their endless dance around each other, letting their emotions take over and guide them, giving them a taste of what true happiness and bliss should really be. What was thought to be the end was only the beginning of their bond; not as the consulting detective and the pathologist but simply as Sherlock and Molly; two souls who found each other amid the world's chaos, and tended to keep each other sane until the right time came, until they finally got the chance to bare their hearts and souls to each other…to say the magical words… I love you.

Sherlock and Molly have been together for about four months; four months since Sherrinford, since their forced confession that led to happier delights, and since Sherlock gathered his courage and told Molly that he meant those words. Four months of going through the hardest times together and getting closer during their fight to make their relationship work on one hand and their fight against Sherlock's lost-forgotten demons on the other hand.

But despite all the fights and the hardships, they knew that at the end of the day, they would find themselves in each other's arms, comforting, hugging, soothing, making love, making promises or even just holding each other in complete silence. No matter what they did in their private time, it didn't matter as long as they did it together.

That night was one of those calm and peaceful nights that found Molly curled up against Sherlock, who was wrapping both his arms around her delicate form like a shield. They just made love and were enjoying the post-coital bliss in the silent yet blessed presence of each other.

Sherlock's mind was uncharacteristically calm, as usual after sharing a love session with his Molly, but Molly's mind, on the other hand, was busy thinking of one thing; Mind Palace Molly Hooper.

Although Mycroft already clarified to Molly the background of the phone call and gave her a brief summary of what happened in Sherrinford, Sherlock still insisted to talk to her and explain everything again. Though Mycroft already did that, as a way of taking the burden off his little brother's shoulders after what he had to go through, Sherlock knew that he needed to explain himself in his own words. It was the least he could give her.

The night Sherlock went to her flat to explain everything about Eurus and the phone call, a few nights after Molly's meeting with Mycroft, he told her that she has always saved him even when she didn't know, even when she wasn't there, even when she wasn't aware of it. He told her that she was in his mind palace, that she saved him from dying in Magnussen's office.

"You have always saved me, Molly. I had to save you, too." he said desperately.

"Faking your death doesn't mean saving you. You would have found another way without my-"

"That's not true, and though I really like to prove you wrong on that matter, that's not the incident I am referring to."

Molly narrowed her eyes in confusion and said nothing, waiting for what he would say next.

"You saved me when I got shot. You told me how to fall."

He explained to her what happened when Mary shot him. He told her that the first person he thought of was her; his mind summoned her Mind Palace version because even subconsciously, he knew that she would be the only one to comfort him…to help him.

"You have always been there. You are always there." he whispered, pointing to his head.

"You always say such beautiful things. Every time. Always. Always." he continued, hesitantly taking one step towards her.

"Beautiful things?"

He smiled genuinely before whispering, "As beautiful as you."

To know that she has always been up there, in his Mind Palace, that he turned to her when he was dying, even subconsciously, to know that his mind loved her even before his heart realized, that was all the evidence she needed, and that's how and when they took their first step towards each other, both emotionally and intimately.

The whole conversation kept playing and replaying in Molly's mind as a broken record, until she decided to ask the question that's been bothering her for some time.

"Tell me what she looks like." Molly murmured quietly.

"Who?"

"Molly."

"What?!"

"The one in your Mind Palace."

"mmm, why?"

"I want to know her."

"She is you."

"No, she is not." she said quickly.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow; partly surprised and partly confused, though she couldn't see his face.

She continued, "She is your perception of me. She is a part of your sub-consciousness."

"So?"

"She is how you see me."

"You know how I see you."

She raised her head from his chest looked at him, "But I still want you to tell me …. pleeeeeeeeeeeease."

Sherlock sighed and traced the outline of her face with his fingertips, before saying "She is you, really. She is how I always picture you."

"And how do you always picture me?"

"Strong, smart, kind, loyal, cute." he stated, still touching her face delicately.

"Stubborn, though you rarely show it." she shrugged and he continued, "Determined, helpful, humble, shy and passionate about everyone and everything you love and care for."

She rested her head on her palm and said, "Tell me more."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "What exactly do you want to know?"

"Everything."

Sherlock sighed again, pushing her head gently to lie on his chest again, keeping her as close as he could to him and instinctively tightened his arms around her.

Molly felt that, and without giving it much thought, she placed her palm on his chest, right above the scar that was once a deadly shot wound.

Molly took a deep breath, and then said softly, "Tell me what happened when you got shot. You told me I saved you, or to be more specific, your sub-consciousness saved you through me. You told me what I said to you, how I instructed you to fall, but you never told me about... well… about me."

Sherlock brushed his thumb over her bare shoulder, "You were wearing your lab coat. You usually wear your lab coat."

"Usually?"

"Yes."

"What else do I wear?"

"When you are mad at me, you wear that black Christmas dress, and you look at me the same way you looked at me that night, and you scold me the same way, too. Maybe even a little more forceful."

She hummed in agreement then asked, "What about when I am happy?"

He smiled and answered, "When you are happy, you wear the dress you wore in John and Mary's wedding. A yellow dress that's as bright as you."

"It was a bright dress, indeed," she said.

"Yes, but the head bow was a little bit much, don't you think?" he teased.

"Don't ever criticize a woman's choice of clothing." she said in mock annoyance and he chuckled lightly.

Molly took a deep breath and asked in a lower voice, "What about when I am….sad?"

Sherlock swallowed heavily and said nothing; his only response was tightening his arms around Molly's body again.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?" he mumbled.

"Don't I ever get sad in your Mind Palace?" she asked, though he suspected she already knew the answer.

"You get sad, a lot. I mean you used to get sad a lot."

"After Sherrinford."

It was a statement, not a question. Again, he tightened his arms around her, as if he was afraid she would leave him after remembering that fateful day.

"For weeks after that day, even after I explained everything to you, even after you forgave me, every time I went to my Mind Palace to talk to you, to see you, you looked sad, and you wore the same outfit you were wearing when I…."

"When you what?"

"When I called you on the phone that atrocious day." he said in a strangled voice.

Without lifting her head from his chest, Molly lifted her hand and stroked his cheek. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, trying to push the painful memories away, before Molly decided to break the silence, and maybe change the subject.

"Don't I have some sort of a …I don't know… a neutral outfit? You know, for when I am not sad or happy or discussing a case with you? Or even saving your life from a bullet in your chest?" she said playfully before placing a light kiss on the bullet scar.

"Actually, you have."

"Really?" she said in surprise, raising her head from his chest to look at him.

"But I wouldn't call it 'neutral' at all. That will not be an accurate description." he said amusingly.

"Why?"

"Because I actually don't know what it looks like." he shrugged, though his eyes were definitely smiling.

"Now you lost me." she said in confusion mixed with a bit of curiosity.

"It's when you are so happy, or in the mood of teasing me, or more likely torturing me with your bright smile and your lovely hair and your-"

"Oh, God! Am I seducing you in your Mind Palace?!"

Sherlock bit his lower lip in an attempt to suppress a laugh, but he couldn't suppress the grin that filled his face. It was all she needed for an affirmation to her question.

Now more intrigued, Molly raised herself and sat up on the mattress, letting the bed sheet slip off her body which was now fully exposed to Sherlock's eyes, "What do I do?"

Automatically, Sherlock's mind and body went straight to 'buffering' mode; his eyes stared at Molly's naked body, as if seeing it for the first time. It was a habit of him; he always mesmerized her body as if he was seeing it for the first time, always fascinated by it. Always enchanted by it.

When he didn't respond, too busy staring at her breasts, she snapped her fingers in front of his face and said quite loudly, "Mr. Holmes. Your presence is required on Earth."

"Mmm? What?" he blinked rapidly, still staring at her naked form.

"I was asking a question?" she smirked.

"What was it?"

"What do I do in your Mind Palace when I seduce you….like now?"

She pulled the sheets over her body, eliciting a look of disappointment and a whine from the detective as he lost a favorite sight.

He raised his face to look at hers then said, "Well, sometimes when I go to your room, I find you lying under the bed sheets, fully covered, like now." he sounded annoyed while saying the last two words, gaining a playful giggle from Molly.

"…and when I try to get closer, you practically order me not to," he snaked his hand trying to touch her sheet-covered breasts, but she smacked it lightly, giggling at him.

"…like now, too." he said with a slight pout, then he continued, "…and when I ask you whether you are naked under the sheets or not, you reply with nothing but a wicked yet shy smile on your face, a wink of your eye, while biting your lower lip. Honestly, till this very moment, I have no idea what outfit you wear under the sheets, or if you actually wear anything. Though, I always prefer you with nothing on but my hands all over your body." he smiled seductively, trying so hard not to let his hands wander to her body, otherwise his hand would definitely gain another slap.

Molly put her index finger under her chin, pretending to be in deep thought, before saying, "And exactly when did you start picturing me under the sheets?"

"Uhm….well…." he stuttered, suddenly looking and sounding embarrassed.

"Sherlock?" she said, raising her eyebrow slightly.

He tried to avoid her eyes, but when he couldn't, he closed his eyes, sighed nervously and answered with a hint of guilt in his voice, "A week after Sherrinford, when I started figuring out my feelings in a better and clearer manner….when I started acknowledging my feelings for you."

Then he opened his eyes and gazed at hers. She was gazing at him, too, with a faint smile on her lips.

"When I realized that it's always been true, Molly. Always."

Molly took a deep breath, trying to calm her strongly beating heart. "And do I still wear the same outfit I wore when you called me that day?"

"No." he shook his head.

"Why?" she whispered.

Sherlock smiled sweetly and said, "Because you are not sad anymore."

She watched him a for a couple of seconds, before removing her hands from the bed sheet, letting it slip down, exposing herself to his eyes again.

"That's true, I am not sad anymore. You make me happy, Sherlock. You make me very happy." She said, giving him an assuring smile.

"Really?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course. Don't you dare doubt that. Ever." then she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on his lips, and that's when he released a sigh of relief that he has been holding inside his chest since the beginning of this conversation.

Holding her in his arms once again, he laid both their bodies on the mattress, keeping one arm around her shoulders, and stroking her hair with his other hand. Deep inside, Sherlock was happy that the conversation ended well. Again, silence surrounded them for about two minutes before Molly said, "I think that Mind Palace Molly should keep all her outfits except the sad one."

Sherlock replied instantly, "Yes, I totally agree. I think she already burned it."

Molly giggled softly, and then added, "And maybe one day she will get to show you what's under the sheets."

Sherlock nudged her chin with his fingers and she raised her head to look at him. He gazed at her for a couple of seconds before saying, "Why do I need to when I already have you here? When I already have the real you?"

Molly raised an eyebrow playfully and asked, "Well, aren't you curious?"

Slowly and gently, he pushed her body so she would lie on her back, and then he hovered over her before softly saying, "My imagination, no matter how creative and livid it is, will never beat the reality. You, Molly Hooper, are perfection."

THE END