I could tell something was wrong as soon as he walked into my department at Saint Bart's. His eyes were red-rimmed and tear tracks shone against his pale cheeks. Sherlock Holmes, crying? It was unheard of. I made sure I watched him like a hawk as he worked as he seemed distracted and with all those chemicals he could easily kill himself with the wrong combination. At one point I had to leave the room to collect some papers and when I came back, he was sniffling slightly. I tried to partake in some polite conversation.

"What are you doing?"

"Exactly what I've been doing for the last 2 weeks.

"Not more case work?" I exclaimed.

"Yup. Analysing the murder weapon again. I'm missing something."

He wiped his eyes on his jacket cuff when he thought I wasn't looking and stared up at me.

"Why?"

"Do you want any help?"

He shook his head, making his raven inky curls danced around his albaster skin.

"I'm...fine." He stumbled slightly on the final word. Something was definetly wrong. Sherlock never stumbled or faltered. He was always so sure of himself.

"Do you wants some coffee? You look a little tired." I was being truthful. He looked exhausted and the purple bags under his eyes looked like bruises. He nodded and I went to get it, not forgetting to get some for myself. When I handed the cup to him, he smiled and looked so beautiful and sad at the same time that it broke my heart to look.

"Thanks." His voice wavered slightly. I placed my hand on his bony shoulder; it just felt so right. He shuddered at the contact but I think it was in a good way.

"Hey. Are you alright?" God I was being so stupid; of course he wasn't. His shoulder began to shake underneath my hand. He was sobbing!

"Hey. What's wrong?" I cupped his face in my hands staring into his wonderful silver eyes. He looked away.

"Don't look at me." he whispered.

I stroked his curls. He seemed to find this comforting and opened up.

"It's just everything. The case is driving me nuts. Everyone is calling me a freak 24/7 but they don't realise just how much it hurts. That and I can't pay the rent this month because I haven't been paid because I can't solve the case with those idiots taunting me and John's thinking of moving out and I'm tired and Mycroft's been bugging me again and I want some cocaine but I'm clean and if I even look at a packet, I'll get kicked off the case and I've run out of nicotine patches." He began to shake and I hugged him, protecting him from the evils of the world and stroking his curls. His tears soaked the gap inbetween my neck and shoulder. I began to sing softly.

"Everyday is so wonderful,

And suddenly, it's hard to breathe.

Now and then, you get insercure,

From all the pain

You're so ashamed."

At this point I tilted his head up to face me.

"But you are beautiful,

No matter what they say.

Words can't bring you down.

And you are beautiful

In every single way

Words can't bring you down

So I won't let them bring you down today."

I kissed him lightly on the forehead. When I pulled away, he seemed to miss my presence and grabbed my face pulling me down into a gentle kiss on the lips. He tasted so good. Like strawberries and mint and coffee and sugar and chocolate and there was a slightly eletric zing that was simply Sherlock. We kissed deeper and deeper, tounges exploring. Nothing could break us apart. The door opened. Well, nothing except that. There was a gasp and a click and as we broke apart we saw John Watson, Sherlock's friend, with his phone in front of him and a suprised expression on his face.

"How long has this been going on for?"

I walked up to him and slapped him roughly on the cheek.

"Don't you dare walk out on My Sherlock!"

"What?" he asked, confused.

"He said you were going to move out. But if I here that you have, I will kill you personly for abandoning him when he is so fragile."

"Oh, Sherlock I didn't mean it. I was just... " he trailed off.

"What are you going to do with that photo?" Sherlock growled.

John seemed to consider his options. "Probably put it on my blog. I mean you're a couple now." I glanced at Sherlock who stared at me. A faint blush had creeped into his cheeks making him look human, not the deathly pale prince I fell into love with. He still looked handsome and I cherished the sight of him. He didn't blush often so this was a rare pleasure.

"Err...you are a couple, right?"

"Well..." Sherlock rubbed the back of his neck. His elegant swan like neck that I just wanted to cover in kisses. "May as do this properly. Molly Hooper, will you go on a date with me?" I was so dumbfounded. It was my dreams come true. Sherlock Holmes was asking me out! I had to pinch myself to convince myself this was real life.

"Yeah." I nodded in a dreamlike state. "When?"

"Tomorrow? We could get some coffee. Real coffee. In a cafe."

"Ok. I'm not working and I have nothing better. Nothing could be better. See you tomorrow." I reached to peck him on cheek. Suddenly his eyes went wide and he grinned.

"I've got it!"

"Got what?" Me and John asked in usion.

"I know who the killer is!" he kissed me and raced out of the room. I watched him go with a smile on my face. I loved seeing him so happy. Our first date would be fun.