So, this is a thing that has been milling around my head for a bit. I don't know what to say about it really but it's quite emotional. Um, so I hope you like it. Let me know what you think, please?

much love,

day


State of Mind

Mrs. Hudson didn't give him any warning but he had seen the flicker of someone standing at the window when he pulled up and stepped out of his brother's car. He couldn't mistake that shade of auburn for anyone else nor could he feel the way he did about her presence as if she was someone else. It just wasn't how things worked between them.

People didn't talk about her enough, in his opinion. Not in the way that they should. Before he fell it was always something in the variation of belittling her position because of him and now it was more in a light that made it clear how much closer they had gotten. He supposed the later was a good thing. At least that was obvious, at least to his friends. Anyone else wasn't important but at times he did wish to let them in on a few more details as to why they worked.

Why it was much easier for him to slip into a comfortable silence with her when he was unsure of what to do or say. Why it was easier for him to work with her. They had become better about it though. If anyone had noticed the difference he would be proud, really. It wasn't so easy for him to act indifferent in front of people when he was annoyed, like when he was high and she slapped him.

He knew he had deserved that and he had almost stopped himself from saying what he had said to her, but he had been to irked by all of them tor really show how much he had wanted to take it back and make amends. He had hurt her and it was never easy for him to work his way into apologizing but he had made an effort when he was able to.

When he had went back to the hospital for the second time after he had gotten John to realize that Mary was their client. She was there watching over him, making sure that he was okay. She didn't say anything, but she sat there with him and he would open his eyes to her nodding off or looking at him with tears shimmering behind her eyes. She still cared for him and that's all he could ever hope for.

However, coming home to this version of Molly Hooper was not on his to do list. He acted silently and alone, even when Mary and John tried to come up. He bolted the door, whispering a hurried "I need privacy," before shutting them out and moving to the kitchen. He made tea, just the way she liked it and served himself a cup as well before moving quietly over to her.

Her body was tightly wound up, her gaze fiercely loyal in staying in the position it had been in looking out into the night. He almost felt bad for interrupting her thoughts but he needed to talk to her. He needed to be sure she hadn't completely disconnected. Molly Hooper was even capable of that. Especially considering the circumstances.

"Tea?" He asked, passing her the cup he had filled for her. She took it without another word and turned slightly in the way that she had been before. Only she had angled herself so that it was clear that she knew he was there and that she was willing to talk.

She took a sip of her tea and waited for him to start. When he just stood there silently, watching her carefully as he sipped his own cup she cleared her throat. "Sorry for intruding in your flat. Didn't think you would mind considering you were supposed to be wherever they were sending you after you killed a man." Her voice was empty of malice. She drank a little more of her beverage before turning fully towards him and continuing on, "I knew you'd be back, though at some point today. They couldn't really let you leave after...he came back."

"I suppose you're right, but if they did it would be a mistake. You know better than most that I know him and I can fix this."

"Are you sure you're willing to really fix this?"

Sherlock stopped, staring straight at Molly trying to decipher what exactly she was referring to. Was she still talking about Moriarty or was this something else entirely? Was this about her and him? Sherlock and Molly? He hadn't the slightest clue, but make no mistake about it. He would do what he could to make sure everything was right again.

"Yes."

They were quiet for a few moments. "He'll probably know this time around. I can't be safe forever, Sherlock." Her voice trembled when she said it.

Sherlock's face became expressionless. He had already thought about this, and he knew it was a great possibility. It worried him more that she had also thought about it. She would though, wouldn't she? She knew the way the world worked. You could make a mistake once but if you did again it meant that you were a fool and Jim Moriarty was no fool. He had to have been watching all of them and if he had picked up on Molly's attitude towards him he might have already known what Sherlock had slowly been leaning towards finding out for months now.

He cared more about Molly Hooper than most people would figure and he wouldn't let her be harmed, not when it could have happened when he had been stupid enough not to catch on to what was happening the first time. No, he couldn't slip up.

Sherlock took a step towards Molly and in one solid motion, took the teacup out of her hand. He placed it on the windowsill and ducked his head down towards her ear. He could feel her breath against his shoulder as he quietly whispered knowing that there were people trying to listen in to what he was saying. "I always protect the people that matter to me, you are the most important but don't tell anyone I ever told you that. They might talk." He pulled his head back and winked at her.

Molly smiled a watery grin at him, it was brief but apparent just for him. "We'll move forward together, just like last time?"

He nodded. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Molly Hooper." It was as he had his head pressed against hers that she saw it. The fear in his eyes, and panic that was slowly rising to the for front of his eyes as they watered slightly. It was just like the last time when she agreed to save him. Except this time they were both shaken by the possibility of him not being able to save her, but she knew he would try with all of the heart that he had - he had one, if the beating that she felt against her hand as she reached out and touched him told her anything. He told her everything.

It was erratic and messy and beautiful just like him. He was her beautiful, messed up consulting detective and even if she never got to hear him say the words to her directly she knew that he was afraid, that he wouldn't get to have a moment like this. He started to talk, his voice shaking as he whispered her name.

She shook her head against his. "Wait until it's all over. Then tell me, then I'll know if it's really true. I can't face it until it's over."

There was something sure about her voice in that moment. Even when she was fisting the fabric of his shirt tightly and he had her encased in his warmth as his palms rested behind her on the windowsill just barely flickering at her waist. It was something he would come back to when things were less hazy and be able to remind himself that he held true to the promise that he would tell her all the thoughts he felt, all the things he tried to delete for his sanity and remind himself that she was his conscience when he was being an idiot.

There had never been a person who could truly get to him as Molly Hooper did and perhaps that was the best way he would ever be able to describe her. She would be safe, and he would not lose her. He couldn't. He couldn't allow it to happen. He would break. That was the end of the story.