Author's Note: Alright. Here I was thinking I'd never write another Sherlolly… I clearly lied. I ended up loving my other piece and you all did too. I'm working on another challenge so here we are. This is for the ninth day of the 28 Day Ship It Writing Challenge hosted by Melting Pot on Facebook. Particular, day nine: the ship that is popular in the fandom but I just don't see. I won't admit to liking this ship, but there it is. (I'm adding this disclaimer: I'm not dissing this ship. I don't hate on ships. I'm simply saying that *I* don't ship it. I actually enjoy writing this ship.) I hope you like this quick little lovely tale and thank you for any feedback it receives. Also, thanks to starrnobella for reading this super-fast. Anything else wrong with it, that's all me. xxDustNight

Disclaimer: All non-original characters, plot points, quotes, and information belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the BBC. The story plot and dialogue belongs to me. I do not write for profit.

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After Everything
Rated: T
Pairing: Sherlock/Molly
Summary: Sherlock visits Molly at work, but it's more than just a cup of coffee he's offering to her.
Prompt: 28 Day Ship It Writing Challenge: Day #9 A Ship that's Popular in the Fandom but you just don't see

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After Everything

"Coffee?"

Molly looked up from her paperwork, slightly startled to find Sherlock standing over her with two styrofoam cups held aloft. She blinked as she sat back in her chair, surprised that she hadn't heard him come into the lab. As she continued to sit there staring up at him, she realized how rude she was being and nodded.

"Sure," she said brightly, reaching out for one of the cups. "I could use a pick-me-up right about now." She giggled, watching as Sherlock's lips quirked with a simple smile. She was just about to take a sip of the drink when she remembered John telling her how he put random chemicals in his tea from time to time.

As if sensing her hesitation, Sherlock quickly took a drink of his own cup and then said, "It's fine. I got it from the machine down the hall. Stamford was there. You can ask him."

Quirking an eyebrow, Molly chose not to comment. Instead, she took a sip and relished the true smile that took over Sherlock's regal features. It was nice to see him this way, especially when he was normally so clinical when he spoke with her. Today, he almost seemed unguarded, free and open more than ever before. After drinking a bit more of the coffee, she sighed and broke the silence.

"Thank you. What brings you to the Morgue today?" She figured she might as well get to the bottom of his visit. She had paperwork to finish and a few more bodies to examine before the day was through.

"I must confess," Sherlock began, turning so that he could lean back against the edge of her desk. "I did come here with ulterior motives."

Molly sighed. Of course. There was always an ulterior motive when it came to Sherlock. Setting aside her half empty coffee, she asked, "What case do you need help with today?" If nothing else, Molly was always willing to help him when needed. Sherlock knew it too. The bastard.

Sherlock's face fell slightly. "No. I'm not working a case. Well, I am, but I already know who the killer is and I'm just waiting for Lestrade to-" Here he paused and drew a sharp breath, obviously realizing he was rambling. "But never mind that. I came here to see you, just you."

"Me? What for?" Molly asked, standing from her chair. She smoothed out the wrinkles in her lab coat and walked over to the counter to find something to busy her hands with. Her heart began to race at the possibilities. Was he going to ask her to help him like before, or was there something else there too?

"It's a bit difficult for me to say this, Molly," Sherlock said slowly, following her over to the counter. Idly, he tapped his fingertips against the hard surface as if he were anxious.

Frowning, Molly set aside the petri dish she'd just picked up so that she could focus fully on Sherlock instead. Her heart fell at the strained look on his face and suddenly everything seemed to go numb. "Oh, please don't tell me you're dying. Or rather, that you have to die again…"

"No!" Sherlock almost barked, holding his hands up so she wouldn't keep going with that line of thought. "No, I am not dying or need of being 'dead'. That is not why I'm here today."

"Then why have you come?" she asked again, her voice quiet with a mixture of suspicion and worry. She focused on his eyes, the color of which was undefinable. She loved his eyes. Hell, she loved everything about him…

"Do you remember," he said softly, gently even, as he took a tentative step toward her. "The case with my sister?"

"You mean when she kept you captive and all those people died?" Of course Molly remembered that. It was a nightmare and a half trying to clean up that mess after they all came back. Sherlock nodded and she sighed before saying, "Yes, I remember."

"There was a certain conversation you and I were forced to have-" Here, she gasped and he was forced to take pause. Molly didn't dare interrupt him, though, too afraid he would stop or that she would burst into tears. A second alter, he continued. "I have thought much on the conversation and found that, given the circumstances, I was not lying as many would seem to think."

Molly's mouth went dry, her brain fritzing out over what he admitted. Shaking her head slightly to clear away the fuzziness, she asked, "I'm sorry, but what?"

"I wasn't lying."

"Yes, I heard you but-"

"You want me to say it aloud." He nodded, lipped pursed as he stared at her with more intensity than she was used to. "I can understand that."

"You can?" She was more than a bit breathless, unable to think even. What was happening?

"Yes. Okay." Taking a deep breath, Sherlock held it in his lungs for a moment and then exhaled slowly. "Molly Hooper, regardless of the circumstances, it has come to my attention that I was not lying when I told you that I- That I love you."

Here, Molly literally stumbled backward a step. In an instant, Sherlock was there, gently grabbing hold of her upper arms so she wouldn't tumble backwards. Her eyes searched his for a lie, even though she knew if he truly wanted to, he could fool her twice over. Not this time, though. This time he appeared more open than ever before.

"You're sure?" Molly hated to sound so unsure, so lost and insecure, but she'd been hurt by Sherlock before.

"I'm sure," he said, pulling her close so that she was tucked snuggly against his chest. With his chin resting on her head, she could hear his heart beating erratically. She suspected hers would sound much the same. She melted into the embrace, and as she did so, he murmured, "It took me far too long to realize it, but now that I have, my heart is so full of love for you, Molly."

"I love you too, Sherlock,' she said, wrapping her arms around him and holding tight. "I always have." She wanted to kiss him but somehow knew that would be too much. It took a lot for Sherlock to come to her like this, opening his heart and admitting his feelings aloud.

"After everything, I am glad to hear you say those words, Molly." He was trembling in her arms, but he did not try and move away. "What do we do now?"

"That depends on you, Sherlock," Molly told him, leaning backward just far enough so she could look up into his face once more. "What would you like to do?"

"I want to have dinner with you. A proper dinner where we sit down and have a conversation about ourselves," he whispered, almost unsure of himself. And maybe he was. Molly suspected he never asked someone out like this before. Despite his nerves, he carried on. "Is that something you would like?"

She nodded. "I'd like that, Sherlock. You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment." Staring up into his eyes, she felt all of her past worries simply fall away.

"That's...good. We shall make plans." He smiled, a true smile, and then released his hold on her. "If it's okay with you, I would like to stay and work in the lab alongside you."

"That's fine," she replied, almost shyly. Taking his hand, she led him over to the lab table. "I'd rather enjoy having your company while I worked through this paperwork. We can also make plans for dinner."

Sherlock lit up at her proposal, swiftly removing his long coat and scarf before taking the open seat next to her. As she settled in, he sent her a smile that warmed her very soul. This was really happening. He leaned close, close enough to place a kiss to her cheek. As her face flushed, he said, "After everything, I'm so glad to have someone such as you to love and be loved by in return."

Turning toward him, she took his hand in hers. "Me too, Sherlock. Me too." And then, together, they set to work, all the while quietly making plans for dinner and a future that looked brighter than either them could imagine.