A.N: Hey Guys!

I am obsessively infatuated with Sherlock and I am a hardcore Sherlolly shipper, I decided to join the ship and write my own Sherlolly. Please note it will contain spoilers for season 3. I also want to take a minute to thank my beta readers: Midnight Angel414 and Sherlockdrinkstea. Thank you Georgia for all you hard work and kind words it meant the world to me.

I don't owned Sherlock or its characters; I just own the storyline of this fanfic and any OC.

Leave me a quick review…I love them almost as much as I love Sherlock.

Steffy2106

Chapter 1:

'Moriarty slipped up, he made a mistake. There is the one person he thought didn't matter at all to me was the one person that mattered the most.'

Sherlock's voice rang clearly in her head. As if he had just said it. Had it really been two weeks since he had leant in close and breathed those scintillating words in her ear?

Molly pulled some weeds out of the garden. What had he meant by it? Did she matter the most in his escape plan or in his life?

Molly sighed, shaking her head, willing her memory of Sherlock away. What she had felt for him had been poison to her heart and brain, making her blind to anyone else…leaving her in a desperate state of "maybe one day". But then he left and with him gone, she had started to reconstruct her life. She had met Tom and moved on. Or at least she thought she had. But when Sherlock had murmured those words, his blue eyes locking with hers, whispering that she mattered, she -

Something wet on her cheek brought her back to reality.

"Hi there Cujo!" She laughed patting the black Labrador's head.

He licked her face again. "Okay, okay we're good now." She wiped her cheek and turned to see Tom leaning against the bay window. "When did you get back?"

He shrugged, burying his hands in his pockets. "A few minutes, but you seemed lost in your thoughts. Feeling better?"

She nodded, standing up and brushing dust off her trousers. "I… yes thank you, if not for these bloody weeds suffocating my gardenias."

"We missed you today," Tom replied, reaching for Cujo's collar. "Is your headache gone?"

Molly gave him a guilty smile and nodded. Tom's parents had organized a big barbecue (as they did every so often) and Molly enjoyed going there, usually because they were like a family to her. They were such warm people who had adopted her like a daughter, but these days it didn't seem right. Looking at them made her feel guilty and she was not sure why. It wasn't like she was cheating on Tom or anything - and yet she had felt like a giant arse ever since Sherlock had returned.

Tom sighed as if he didn't quite believe her, but dropped it as he did every time. "This was for you in the post. I'm going to hop in the shower." He took a tentative step toward her, kissing her quickly on the forehead. "I love you Moll."

"You too," she whispered, but she couldn't help but avert her eyes to look down at the envelope in her hands. When she looked up again both Tom and Cujo were gone.

She walked back in the house, served herself a glass of wine and opened the envelope. It was an invitation for John and Mary's wedding. Molly frowned when she saw it said "Molly Hooper and guest". Wasn't it customary to send an invitation to both names when people were engaged? The invitation should say 'Molly Hooper and Tom Bailey'. Molly started to pat Toby. "It's getting complicated isn't it?" She was probably just overthinking it all. Mary and John only met Tom once; they probably simply forgot his name.

"Moll, sweetheart, I think we need to talk about something."

Molly swiveled on her stool to face Tom. "Sure." Her phone started to ring. "Just go on, the voicemail can pick that up."

Tom nodded. "I just wonder what's wrong. Did I do anything wrong? If I did I'm sorry."

"No, Tom, never! Are you daft? You didn't do anything, you're perfect," she said sincerely.

"It's just-" The phone started to ring again. Tom sighed with exasperation. Molly quickly looked at the screen. "It's Lestrade, I need to get that."

"Moll, it's your day off. We need to talk about –"

Molly raised a finger in a "hold that thought" gesture and answered. "Molly speaking."

"Molly, sorry we need you at the morgue."

"Why? Isn't Doctor Kane working? I'm off this weekend."

Lestrade sighed. "I know and I'm sorry but I had no other choice than to call you. I-"

Molly heard an angry voice in the background. "Is that Sherlock?"

Lestrade sighed once more and she could almost see him rolling his eyes. "Who else? He doesn't know Doctor Kane and refuses to work with him. He says that he needs his pathologist."

Molly heart rate increased at the possessiveness behind the term and she hated herself for that. She looked up and met Tom eyes. He had always been patient and understanding as far as her job was concerned but right now the only thing she could see in his eyes was anger and frustration.

"For any other case I would tell him to suck it up or to wait until Monday but- but I think this one will be quite polemical."

"He is a creature of habit," confirmed Molly, knowing she was going to give in, like she always did.

"Is it Molly Hooper? Give me the phone." She heard Sherlock's muffled voice.

"Molly?"

"Yes."

"We need you. How could anyone expect me to work with this pale imitation of a pathologist? This man is clearly a drunk."

"No, he isn't, not anymore."

"That's no concern of mine. I need the best and you, Molly Hooper, are the best I have."

Molly knew it was a backhanded compliment but coming from Sherlock she couldn't help but smile. "It's my day off," she said, not even able to convince herself.

"Is your personal life more important than justice for a murder? I thought better of you, Molly Hooper."

"Fine." She glanced at the clock. She wanted to shower and change before going to St. Bart. "Give me an hour."

"We don't have an hour to waste; we already wasted too much time arguing about getting you here."

Molly rolled her eyes, she could kiss goodbye to changing her clothes and the shower. "Okay, give me 15 minutes. It's the best I can do. Hello?"

"Sorry, it's me again; Sherlock said you were on your way."

"Yes, I'll be right there." She hung up and looked at Tom.

He shook his head. "Don't tell me. You have to go."

"It's for work Tom, you know that."

"I don't need to be a detective to know Sherlock Holmes requested your presence."

"It has nothing to do with him."

"Are you sure about that, Moll?"

Molly nodded, fidgeting with the end of her ponytail. Tom shook his head.

"We can talk when I come back," she added apologetically, reaching for her bag and keys. "I'm sorry."

Tom looked at her thoughtfully. "I'll be here, Molly…. I'll be here."