It wasn't supposed to be like this. Everything had slowly deteriorated. They were so happy in the beginning but after a couple of blissful months, things got difficult. It started with their first squabble, which didn't worry either of them; it was normal and bound to happen. The arguing happened too often now; about three times a week. Today's fallout hadn't been the worst but it wouldn't leave his thoughts. Sherlock had gone back to Baker Street afterwards. It kept replaying in his mind.

"Molly, I need to take a look at Mr. Simm," Sherlock said as he strolled into the room.

"Give me a moment to finish this paperwork," she replied. He kissed her cheek and she gave him a small smile. Once finished, she brought out the body and watched as Sherlock examined it.

"Just as I thought," he muttered.

"What is it?" Molly asked.

"The rope burns on his wrists suggest he had been held hostage at one point," Sherlock answered. "They're very faint now so it could have been easily overlooked by anyone less observant."

"Are you suggesting I was incompetent?" Molly questioned.

"No, Molly, of course not. You're brilliant but not everyone can notice these things," he explained. "I do suggest adding it to the report though."

"Anything else you need?" she asked in annoyance.

"Yes, I did want to ask you something but now may not be the best time for—"he trailed off and cleared his throat. "Look, you're clearly put out with me for some reason and I'm sorry if I insulted you. It wasn't my intention."

"Just go home, Sherlock," Molly sighed.

"Will you come by Baker Street after your shift?" he asked.

"I don't know," she admitted.

"I'll go home, but it's not home unless you're there," Sherlock said solemnly as he left the room. The usual bounce in his step was gone.

Sherlock's heart ached as he relived the events. He felt that Molly was distancing herself but he couldn't even deduce why.

"Rough day?" Meena asked as Molly clocked out that evening.

"Kinda," Molly answered. "I was a bit cold to Sherlock today; hell, I've been like this for a while now."

"Why? What did he do?" Meena prodded.

"The thing is, it's not him who's done anything wrong; it's me," Molly sighed.

"Molls, what's going on?" Meena questioned further.

"I'm scared. Everything seemed way too good to be true and I just kinda took a step back without him," Molly confessed. "I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop because sometimes the one you love the most isn't always the person you spend your life with…and that sucks."

"No, Molly, you can't think like that. Sherlock loves you. None of us thought he would be the type for relationships but look at you two," Meena told her. "He's so devoted to you; surely you must see that. It's unlike you to not see through him."

"I see it, I do, but what if, one day, he decides it's too much effort?" Molly asked.

"Have you ever talked to him about this? Because you should," Meena suggested.

"I should; I really should," Molly agreed. "God, he must hate me right now."

"Ooh-hoo, Sherlock, I brought tea," Mrs. Hudson peeked in.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," he sighed.

"And someone's here to see you," Mrs. Hudson further informed him. She stepped aside to place the two cups of tea on the coffee table, revealing a timid Molly.

"Molly," Sherlock stood immediately and she met him halfway to embrace each other. Neither noticed his elderly landlady slip out and close the door.

"I'm sorry," Molly cried into his chest. "I'm so sorry. I don't want to fight anymore." He held her tighter and pressed a kiss into her hair.

"It's okay, darling," he spoke softly. Sherlock was rocking her in his arms now which turned into swaying.

"Are you dancing with me?" Molly laughed through her tears.

"I suppose I am," Sherlock smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Suddenly, he scooped her up and seated her on his lap once they reached the sofa. Her arms were locked around his neck and she kissed the hollow of his throat where his heartbeat could be felt on her lips.

"It's all my fault," Molly told him, her lips brushing his skin as she spoke. "I've been so afraid, waiting for everything to go wrong; for you to not want me anymore. I was the one ruining things because of it. When I look at you, I see my world and it scares the shit out of me."

"Molly, look at me, please," Sherlock pleaded. Her red-rimmed eyes connected with his. "I will always want you; I always have wanted you. It's okay to be scared; do you not think I am too? These past few weeks, I've been terrified that you didn't love me anymore. Funny coincidence, because you, Molly Hooper, are my world too."

"Sherlock, I love you so much. I'm sorry I made you think that I didn't," Molly told him, tears still falling from her eyes. He kissed them away on each cheek before leaning his forehead against hers.

"And I love you, Molly, more than anything," he replied. The look in his eyes took her breath away, as they were so full of love and it was all for her.

It didn't take long for Molly to press her lips against his. It was firm and needy. Their mouths melded together so passionately for the first time in weeks. She had missed him and he had missed her. It was in the way he brushed his tongue along the seam of her lips, nudging them open to let him in. He could taste her emotions and he loved it; loved her. Her fingers crawled up into his curls, gently tugging at them to elicit the most delicious moans from him. His breath hitched as she took his bottom lip in between her teeth gently, sucking on it for just a moment before their tongues met once more. Sherlock lowered her down on the sofa, never once breaking their kiss, intending to make love to her tenderly.

They lay beneath the large throw blanket Molly kept at his flat and her face was buried in the crook of his neck. She placed lazy kisses on his skin every now and then.

"What was it you were going to ask me?" Molly asked, her voice low.

"Mm," he sounded as she kissed his neck once more. "I was going to ask if you'd consider moving in with me." He kissed her shoulder.

"Are you serious?" she questioned, propping herself up to look at him.

"Of course I'm serious," Sherlock told her. "I meant what I said; it's not home without you here." She kissed him softly and he held her flush against him, skin to skin. "Is that a yes?" he murmured against her lips.

"Yes, my love," Molly confirmed with a small laugh and kissed him again.

"Toby can't sleep in my hair," Sherlock chuckled against her lips. She laughed with him happily. There was always going to be rough patches, they knew, but their love could withstand anything. Molly knew that now. Eventually, she was lulled to sleep by Sherlock humming a violin concerto as he gently nibbled at her ear.