Like I can
"You don't really understand it, Molly?"
A carefully wrapped Christmas present with her name on it, It had been carried from the strangely hesitant hand of Inspector Lestrade.
"What should I understand? Should I call Sherlock for a deduction? "
Molly tries to joke, but Greg for some reason becomes dark in the face. Silly, silly Molly, it does not take Sherlock Holmes to understand. We must not even observe, but we only need to see, see what is written in large letters on the face of man. In the silence that follows, she turns the package in her hands and then opens it, ignoring an implicit feeling of deja-vu that begins to make its way into her.
"Oh!" She exclaims, finding herself facing a pair of earrings that probably must have cost as much as a full salary.
Now she understands. But she does not understand why.
"He will never love you as much as I can love you," Greg admits simply, to the silent question.
Eyes wide open: surprise, uncertainty, curiosity.
"Can you love me?"
A smile: reassurance, sweetness, determination.
"I've loved you for a while now, Molly Hooper."
Author's note:
Hello, this is my first fic about Molly and Lestrade. I hope you like it. Sorry for the mistakes, English is not my first language, I'm Italian.
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