"Sherlock! What are you doing here?! It's three in the morning!"
Molly stood in the doorway of her flat as rain poured on the detective.
"Went to St. Barth, they told me you hadn't been in in a few days. I assumed you would be home. Judging by the state of your hair and your clothes you've been confined to your place for a while now."
"I never told you where I live." She said, trying to move the topic away from her appearance.
" Oh Molly you know me better than that. It was easy enough getting your address from the hospital records. So here I am. Can I come in?"
Without waiting for an answer, he walked passed her. She hung her head and sighed.
In the living room Sherlock couldn't help but assess Molly's current state of mind. Several packets of crisps we're strewn over the table and floor, as well as the leftovers of a kebab. He sniffed: the remnants of a fish and chips lay somewhere hidden from sight. Crumpled tissues covered what was left of the table and a blanket had been thrown on the couch. He touched it. It was still warm.
"Sherlock. What exactly are you doing?"
He turned around. She stood in the doorway. Her usual awkwardness was gone. Her eyes betrayed her fatigue. A fatigue that had nothing to do with the body. He gave her his case smile. She shook her head and leaned against the door frame. He stopped smiling and stood up straight.
"I...:I wanted to..." He swallowed. No matter how he tried, the words he had carefully prepared wouldn't come to him. He had worked so hard, too. John had refused to help, telling him that it had to come from him, that Molly would know otherwise. He wrung his hands and took a deep breath.
"Listen, Molly, I wanted to apologize."
She gave him a painful smile, biting her lower lip.
"For what, exactly? For using me like your personal assistant? For the mean words? For…" her voice faltered "For all the drugs? For making me hear you say it? "
Tears rolled on her cheek. She looked away. Her small fist were clenched by her side in anger. He hadn't expected her to react this way, which was something considering this was what he did, predicting everyone's reaction.
"For… For all of it, but especially the last bit. Molly. Molly, look at me."
She didn't move. He crossed the living room. He stood so close he could smell her hair. She trembled. He gently lifted her chin. The pain in her eyes shocked him. He'd seen the hurt before, but never so raw.
"I… I am truly sorry, Molly. I never meant…"
Before he knew it, he was kissing her. She pulled back and faced away.
"Sherlock, no. Please. Don't. Don't do this to me."
His heart quickened. He suddenly realised that he wanted her. He wanted her more than anything else but he wasn't about to force himself on her. He tried to step back. He looked down. She held on to his coat with her left hand, her right covering her mouth. She peaked at him. Something on his face must have betrayed him. She frowned.
"You're not acting, are you?"
He shook his head, unable to speak.
"And you're not on drugs either."
Another shake. She peered into his eyes, as if trying to decide what was really going on. Timidly, she stood on the top of her toes and her lips grazed his. He shivered.
"I'll regret this." She whispered.
She crushed her lips against his. He responded avidly. He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her closer. She moaned. He could feel her small fists holding on to the front of his coat. This was delicious. This was not what had come for. He was only making things worse. He didn't care. He lifted her up and, without breaking the kiss, carried her to the bedroom.