Disclaimer: If I owned this I'd be writing the script, not fan fictions
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Sherlock stood in the darkness that was the lab. He was thinking, think up a plan. Thinking up a plan that couldn't fail, he couldn't fail because he thought it up, and if he thought it up it couldn't fail no matter what. Molly went to open the door but Sherlock's voice stopped her.
"You were wrong you know," he said. He heard Molly jump and nearly drop what she was holding. "You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you. And you were right." Molly looked confused, but Sherlock didn't pause at the look on her face. "I'm not ok."
"Tell me what's wrong," Molly said, a look of concern on her face. Sherlock pushed himself away from the counter he had been leaning on and made his way slowly towards her.
"Molly, I think I'm going to die," he told her. Molly looked worried, and almost scared, as she met his gaze.
"What do you need?" she asked.
"If I wasn't everything that you think I am, everything that I think I am," Sherlock paused. With every word he spoke he took a step closer toward Molly. "Would you still help me?"
"What do you need?" Molly repeated. Sherlock came even closer and Molly forced herself not to take a step away from him as he did so. His gaze seem to look into her very soul and read her every thought.
"You," Sherlock said. Molly swallowed, hard. That word struck her right in the heart, and she didn't quite know how to respond. She stuttered a moment and slid her right foot backwards as he moved towards her again. She gasped as he gripped both her wrists, a bit tightly to tell the truth, and she dropped the bag she had been carrying. He pushed her up against the wall and looked her straight in the eye. Molly looked at her right wrist then her left as she struggled to break free of Sherlock's grasp. She looked back at him and took in a surprised breath as she found his face only a few inches from hers, an almost evil look on his face, and it terrified her.
"Sherlock…?" she said, her voice shaking from fear. He came a bit closer and she struggled a bit more, even though she knew it was pointless. "Sherlock, you're scaring me." His breath tickled the skin on her face. She stopped struggling and just left herself to unsteady breathing. "Sherlock." Her voice was meant to be cold, but it came out scared and trembling. His grip on her wrists tightened a bit and she winced a bit with a grunt. In the short moment that her eyes squeezed shut from the pain Sherlock moved even closer and her eyes widened as his lips gently touched hers.
Sherlock's grip on Molly's wrists loosened quite a bit as his lips pressed up against hers. Molly's arms slid down under Sherlock's grip and her hands stopped right under his. Sherlock's tonuge ran gently along Molly's lower lip and Molly moaned slightly at the back of her throat. Sherlock let Molly's hands go and set both of his on the wall by her head. Sherlock needed her help to fake his death, but the wasn't any reason why he couldn't show her that she really did count before hand? No, there wasn't.
Sherlock pulled back from the kiss and looked her in the eye. He noted that his heart rate had gone up and Molly was breathing unevenly. Molly raised her right hand and ran her fingers through his curly, knotted hair. Sherlock closed his eyes lightly as the touch made him shiver slightly. Sherlock placed a hand on her cheek.
"You do count," he said gently. Molly looked him in the eye. "You count more than any other woman I have ever meant." Molly could see in his eyes that he was speaking from his heart, and only from his heart. Which she liked.
"What do you need?" she said for the third time.
"I need you to help me fake my death…"
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Well, there it is. Please Review