"Stop the car."

Sherlock got off the car Mycroft provided for him and John to bring them back to Baker Street, the doctor taken aback by the sudden impulsive act. Or maybe not so impulsive.

"What?! Sherlock, what's going on?"

"You go on ahead to the flat. I have just one more case to solve tonight." Sherlock explained.

"A case? Well, why won't—" John began.

"No. No need to come with me. This case I have to solve alone." Sherlock replied while clutching to his coat pocket. "Taxi!"

This ride will bring yet another turn in the course of his already complex life.

With a deep breath, Sherlock knocks on the door to the flat he's considered as his second home, a bit surprised at how he's feeling quite anxious of what could possibly happen any minute now.

"For a moment!" said the voice from inside. The door opens, with the pathologist apparently getting ready for work.

"Molly." Sherlock smiled nervously. He could not help but feel relieved to see her again.

Apparently, and expectedly, Molly was not happy to see him. Despite her eyes being puffy from crying, Molly manages to keep a straight face as she stood by the door.

"Come in." She said somewhat coldly.

As Sherlock stepped into the sitting room, he began, "Molly, I'm here to—"

"Shh! Just stay there. Don't move. Don't speak."

Surprised, Sherlock closes his mouth, and shakes his head, as if in surrender, wondering what this woman is up to.

Molly starts to observe Sherlock, scanning him from head to foot, walking around him, as if "deducing" the Consulting Detective himself.

After some quiet, she speaks, "Alright, Sherlock, I forgive you. That's you came here for, right? I really don't want to make things too difficult for you. No need to explain. This kind of conversation is not really your area... However, to tell you honestly, I was extremely shattered by that phone call and I am definitely pissed off by what you made me do; I'm actually thinking of slapping you again but..."

Sherlock motions to speak, but Molly, taking another deep breath, continued with her speech.

"...but I won't. Not exactly the best thing you need right now. After all you seem to have been through. I think you've realised enough. Whatever your reason was for putting me through that ordeal, I have to trust you. No—I choose to trust you. Because we're friends, like you said. And friends trust each other."

She stops, breathes in and looks down with a pained expression on her face. Friends. For this I should settle now. Hearing him say 'those words' should be enough for me. I'd be a fool to expect more... Molly thought to herself, blinking back the tears.

Looking again at Sherlock, she shifts her lips into a smile, holds out her hand to him for a handshake.

"So! Sherlock, apology accepted. We're still friends." She tried to say firmly.

Sherlock gazes into her eyes with a soft and gentle smile, a smile Molly has seen before, when he wished her the happiness she deserved.

With a deep and tender voice, Sherlock spoke, "You never fail to amaze me, Molly Hooper. You can see right through me, most when others can't. You've been very courageous in speaking your mind and in telling me the things I need to hear; which I take for granted most of the time... I really haven't the slightest idea how on earth I deserve your friendship, but I swear, I'm eternally grateful for it... For you."

Sherlock leans down to Molly and plants a soft kiss on her cheek. He's done that before, but there's something that felt different this time.

"Thank you, Molly. But..."

Sherlock holds a finger up in the air and walks back and forth, trying to shake the nervousness off as he proceeds to the most important part of this case.

"You, Ms. Hooper, are still not as good at deduction as I am. Nope! You failed to notice one important little detail."

Oh, there he goes again. Molly wrinkles her brows and puzzled, asks, "What exactly do you mean?"

Sherlock puts one hand in his coat pocket and with the other takes Molly's hand and places something on her palm.

"This. This used to be on the lid of a coffin. Your coffin."

Wide-eyed, Molly gasps, "What?!

"Well, that's what remains of the coffin, anyway." Sherlock clarifies. "I've already smashed it to pieces, to make sure I won't find you in it."

Molly speechless and confused, glanced at Sherlock's hand still holding hers.

Sherlock continues, "No need to talk about it now. This is what matters."

Molly opens her hand and finds a small silver name plate carved with the words, 'I LOVE YOU'.

"I still don't understand, Sherlock. I mean, I sort of understand," Molly stammered, "but I don't want to assume anything, know I might just get..."

"Hurt again...?" Sherlock and Molly said at the same time.

Molly looked away as he continued, "No, I don't want to be the cause of your tears anymore, Molly. I've said those words before; not until I spoke them the second time did I realise it has meaning. I meant it. And I won't hesitate to say them again, should you need clarification or confirmation of how I..."

As Sherlock was talking, Molly stares long and hard at the plate, baffled... Yet at the same time, a feeling of incredible joy is starting to rise inside of her, along with the belief that there's something new, a beautiful kind of change happening right in front her.

"Sherlock..."

Molly moves forward, places her head on his chest and wraps her arms around him.

"...feel about you." He finished.

Sherlock felt such warmth and comfort that he could only respond with the same embrace...

Then it was as if time stopped, everything fell silent, and all he could hear was heartbeat. Two hearts beating together to the melody of joy, of... love.

Thanks, Eurus. But you're wrong. Sherlock thought to himself as he held in his arms the woman he tried to save.

Moments of the phone call, the coffin, of how he had lost... came flashing back to his mind.

I won... I won. Emotional context may destroy me, but it is also what keeps me alive. Molly Hooper keeps me alive.

Embracing her more tightly, Sherlock interrupts the comforting silence.

"Molly?"

"Hmm?" Molly answered while thinking, Oh, I could do this with this bastard the whole day—

"How would you feel about five..."

"Five what?" Molly questions.

He looks at her with a breathtaking gaze and with a sly smile and asks again,

"How would you feel about five children?"

Molly looks up at him in shock and exclaims, "Sherlock! We haven't even started to date!" she continued with a laugh.

He chuckles at the sight of brightness of the woman in front him as he thought, Not 'the' woman. 'My' Woman.

"Balance of probability, my love, balance of probability..."