A short Sherlolly one-shot for Valentine's Day (totally didn't plan that by the way). Hope you enjoy!

Sherlock Holmes was up to something.

She finally admitted to herself. After the third night in a row he ever so casually left the room to take a call, she knew. He was rubbish at hiding things from her.

The question though was what. What exactly was he up to?

It had been a strenuous day at work and all Molly wanted to do was collapse on the couch, drink wine, and watch mindless telly. Upon entering the flat, the first thing she did was rip the shoes off her aching feet and throw them dramatically across the room followed by a loud sigh for effect.

"So bad day was it?" Sherlock was in the kitchen but had poked his head around the corner after seeing her shoes fly across the room and land dangerously close to the fireplace.

"Tiring more than anything," she replied, pausing to rub a sore spot on her lower back before hanging up her coat and unwinding the scarf from her neck. "We were short staffed and I think I stood for the entire shift." When she turned around, Sherlock was standing in front of her handing her a filled wine glass. She could almost cry.

Her fiancé was far from perfect but when it came to her needs Sherlock always seemed to be able to anticipate them even before she did. I have a lot to make up for he'd told her shortly after getting engaged. Molly always made an effort to show her gratitude for all the little things he did, knowing he needed the encouragement. Ever since one particularly disastrous Christmas years ago, she suspected that he had never felt deserving of anyone's love. He never expected that she would ever give him a present. Slowly during their relationship he was getting better at accepting her love in return. He didn't always try to wave everything off as though it didn't matter anymore. She made sure that he knew that he mattered to her, as she did to him. Taking the glass from him, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. He responded by wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her close.

After a meal of takeaway, which he'd picked up just before her arrival-again with his perfect timing-they settled on the sofa, Toby on one end, Sherlock and Molly on the other. Their legs tangled into a mass of limbs, their arms held each other in a warm embrace, her head rested on his warm chest. When she'd moved in, she'd brought her sofa and rearranged the furniture for the sole purpose of snuggling while watching telly, something she'd taught Sherlock how to enjoy. This is heaven she thought, sighing contentedly.

But the feeling lasted only momentarily when halfway through an episode of The Great British Bake-Off, Sherlock's phone buzzed, just as it had the previous two nights.

"I've got to take this," he said after glancing at the screen and untangled himself from her grasp.

Molly groaned as her comfort was compromised. "Again? Can't you take it in here? Who's calling at this hour?"

"Case," he responded over his shoulder as he headed towards the kitchen.

It wasn't like Sherlock to be secretive about work or anything. They just didn't do secrets, one reason being that they were both bad at keeping them from each other. This was a man who often paraded around the flat naked. Soon after the beginning of their relationship Molly had discovered his habit of not immediately getting dressed in the morning. He didn't hide anything from her. Secretive was simply not in his vocabulary.

Molly muted the television and strained to hear his low hushed voice.

"Yes….tomorrow…what time...she doesn't..." Whoever was on the other line was doing most of the talking, but from what Molly gathered Sherlock was arranging to meet someone in the morning. If it was a client why was he being so guarded?

Whatever was going on, it wasn't like any case he'd had before. Sherlock was always open about the cases he was working on, often going into great detail and asking Molly's opinion. They often worked through scenarios together, bouncing ideas around. Sherlock said it helped him to work through cases out loud. Now that Molly had moved into Baker Street she had become a sort of after-hours replacement for John, though the two still did most of the case solving. So what was different this time?

Sherlock hung up the call and Molly hurriedly unmuted the television not wanting to be caught spying.

He didn't offer an explanation as he re-entered the room and resumed his original position on the sofa next to her, but there was a noticeable change in his demeanor. Molly sensed a sort of distracted, nervous energy.

"Interesting case?" she asked innocently with her eyes focused on the television but her mind anywhere but.

"Not as interesting as this," he whispered into her ear after a long pause and wrapped his arms around her stomach.

The vibration in his voice prickled her skin and traveled down the length of her spine.

A classic Sherlock move: distract her with some pretty word in that sexy voice. He knew exactly the effect that his voice had on her.

Molly was no fool, something was going on and she was determined to find out what it was…but it could wait. For the moment she just wanted to enjoy the feeling of his arms around her and forget the day's worries. She allowed her body to relax again against him and before long she felt her eyelids grow heavy. Sometime later she was aware of a pair of strong arms carrying her to the bedroom and the feeling of covers being pulled over her body before she fell back asleep once again.

Molly awoke with a start and lay in bed unsuccessfully trying to fall back asleep. The alarm clock told her she had several more hours to sleep in before having to go in to work that afternoon, but her mind would not allow it as it still pondered over Sherlock's behavior the previous few nights. Instead of attempting to fall back asleep which she knew wasn't happening, she kicked off the sheets, stripped off the work clothes she had fallen asleep in, and threw on one of Sherlock's dressing gowns. The other side of the bed remained undisturbed meaning that Sherlock must have spent the night on the sofa. The sound of running water let her know that he was up and already in the shower. Not only was it unusual for him to be up this early, but also Molly couldn't remember a time when they'd slept apart.

Upon entering the kitchen, Toby ran up to her and began circling her legs.

"You hungry, buddy?" On cue the cat looked longingly at his empty dish. As she reached into the cabinet for his kibble, Sherlock's phone buzzed where it lay on the kitchen table.

The screen showed an unfamiliar number. Molly bit the inside of her cheek, wavering about whether to answer. She could still hear the water running in the bathroom. He wouldn't hear…

Curiosity took the better of her and she hurriedly grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

She couldn't have been more shocked to hear the familiar female voice on the other line. "Uh…hello? Molly is that you?"

"Y-yes."

"It's Janine. Remember from the Watsons' wedding?"

"Of course, yes I remember." Molly hadn't exactly been sunshine and rainbows towards the woman as jealousy reared its ugly head that day, but they'd managed to have a pleasant chat after having been introduced by Mary. "How are you?"

"Great, thanks. Congratulations by the way. You and Sherlock…wow! You know I should have known after the way he spoke about you at that wedding. He was so obviously jealous of your fiancé, I caught him staring daggers at the poor man the whole day." Janine let out a loud laugh.

"Thanks. I suppose I owe you an apology for that day as well. I'm sorry if I seemed mean to you. I guess I was as guilty of being jealous about you as Sherlock was about Tom."

Janine laughed again. "Don't worry about it. Sherlock and I were obviously not meant to be."

"I still can't believe what he did to you, leading you on and then that fake proposal!"

"Don't worry about it. The proposal didn't really happen. I would've said no for the record. We'd only been dating; well fake dating for a few weeks. Who proposes after a few dates? Anyways, that's all in the past now and I got my revenge on him…by the way is he around?"

"He's busy at the moment. Can I give him a message?"

Janine hesitated before answering. "No…no, I'll call him back later. It's, uh, for a case he's working on."

"What sort of case is it? He's hasn't told me about it yet."

"Oh, you know, something just came up. I've got to go. Nice talking to you, Molly."

She hung up before Molly could ask another word.

"Um…bye?" Molly spoke to the disconnected signal before angrily tossing the mobile back on the table. She filled Toby's dish and slammed the cabinet shut in frustration.

"Why is everybody being so bloody secretive lately?" Molly asked Toby, who ignored her and gave his full attention to eating his breakfast.

"Did you say something, Moll?" She hadn't realized that Sherlock had finished with his shower and was now standing in the kitchen with a towel wrapped around his waist. Beads of water fell from his wet hair onto his pale skin.

"Er…nothing." The sight of his half-naked form temporarily distracted her, but as he turned around to head towards the bedroom she remembered what had just happened and burst out, "Janine called."

He stopped in his tracks. "Did she want something?"

"She said it was something related to your case. By the way, was sort of case is this one? You've haven't told me anything about it."

"Oh, it's a boring one, the least interesting one in months. Didn't want to bore you with the details."

He disappeared into the bedroom before re-emerging minutes later dressed sharply in a black suit and maroon dress shirt. How did he do that? His decisiveness never ceased to amaze Molly each morning as she hemmed and hawed about what jumper to wear.

"You're up early today."

Sherlock had picked up his mobile and appeared to be sending off a text. "I've got to run. Meeting with a client."

"You slept on the sofa last night." It came out as a statement rather than a question. She couldn't hide the hurt in her voice.

At this, he looked up and gazed at her for a moment. "I brought you into the bedroom so you could get some sleep. You looked so peaceful I didn't want to disturb you."

He kissed her gently on the cheek and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. "Sorry, I'm late. I'll see you later."

She picked a lone cat hair off of his jacket before he walked towards the door.

"Sherlock-"

"Hm?" he paused to loop his scarf around his neck.

She was dying to know what was really going on. Why was he still in contact with Janine? As far as Molly knew they hadn't kept in touch.

But maybe she was just over thinking it. "Um…don't you want any coffee?"

Visible relief showed on his face at the question. There was something going on. He was worried that she would ask about it again. "No thanks. I'll see you at Bart's later." With that he threw on his coat and disappeared out the door.

Molly wasn't the jealous sort. She trusted Sherlock and was glad they each had lives and careers of their own. Everybody needed personal space. He must have his reasons for withholding information and would no doubt inform her when it was important.

To distract herself from over thinking, she decided to make a trip to the shop. The kitchen cupboards looked a little bare and she needed the exercise. She hurriedly dressed in the first thing she grabbed-a grey jumper and jeans-trying to take a cue from Sherlock and reached for her bag only to find it missing.

Molly visualized walking in the door the previous night and setting her bag on the floor by the door. It had to be here. After a quick search, she spied it lying on a heap on the desk chair. From the looks of it someone had been rifling through it and had done a poor job hiding the fact.

After reviewing the contents, she found her ID card missing from her wallet. Why would Sherlock have taken her ID?

Curiouser and curiouser, she thought to herself as she grabbed one of Sherlock's old scarves and headed out into the foggy London morning.

Molly was hunched over a microscope studying a bacterial culture when she heard the door swing open followed by the sound of footsteps that only belonged to one person.

"How was the meeting?" she asked not bothering to look up.

"Very productive."

While pondering over the vagueness of his answer, Molly was caught off guard when he suddenly walked around the side of the worktable and kissed her on the cheek.

Her eyes jerked up at him in surprise. Sherlock wasn't the sort to engage in public displays of affection, even in near empty labs. Molly didn't mind, as she wasn't the type either and didn't like the gossip that it caused. Besides they had plenty enough at home. Molly knew it would surprise people, as it did her, to learn that Sherlock was quite a touchy-feely sort of man as he kept that fact rather well hidden.

She studied his face for clues for this sudden burst of sentiment. There was a sparkle in his eye and a slight schoolboy grin on his face that he was trying (and failing) to hide.

"What happened to you?" she asked narrowing her eyes at him with suspicion.

"Nothing. I am in perfectly good health as always." Still smirking, he took the microscope from her grasp and began fiddling with the knobs to study the specimen.

Molly sighed and turned her attention toward filling out a lab report while Sherlock was occupied.

"By the way I won't be home tonight. I've got to travel outside the city for the case."

The Case. That's what he was calling now as if giving it the most generic name would hide what he was really working on. Sherlock Holmes was a bloody terrible liar.

While he was still focused intently at the microscope, Molly decided to take advantage of his distraction and gauge his reaction about her findings.

"Why did you take my ID this morning?"

Sherlock pulled his head back slowly pondering for a moment about how to answer before turning his head to meet her gaze. Molly crossed her arms and waited for his answer.

His mouth opened and closed several times before he finally reached into his coat pocket and pulled it out.

"Found it on the floor this morning and forgot to give it to you. Toby must have gotten in your things. That cat of yours is pretty sneaky."

Molly snatched the card from his hand and waved it at him. "Toby doesn't have thumbs. He can't open things. Don't try to frame my innocent cat when I know it was you who was the sneaky one."

Sherlock faked a hurt expression. "You trust your cat over your fiancé?"

"Of course." Molly replied without missing a beat. Then after glancing at the clock she realized how late it'd gotten. "I've got a department meeting."

She gathered up her papers and prepared to leave the room when he spoke quietly, "Molly, are you mad at me?" Gone was the humor and teasing in his voice.

"I don't know. Would you be mad if your fiancé was keeping secrets from you, planning mysterious trips, and giving you flimsy excuses?" She sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. "I love you, Sherlock. Have a good trip and be safe."

The door slammed behind her drowning out his reply.

With the flat all to herself that night, Molly decided to spend her alone time indulging in a few favorite things: a long, hot soak in the bath, 80s synth-pop on the stereo, a historical period drama on the telly, leftover chocolate cake given generously by Mrs. Hudson.

But as she lay in bed later, a sense of loneliness took a hold of her. The flat was more noticeably drafty without the warmth of Sherlock next to her. After retrieving several blankets from the closet, she lay back down and clutched his pillow to her stomach. Toby curled up next to her seeming to sense her mood.

They had been engaged for seven months. At first, there'd been some talk about wedding plans, mostly in the form of vague ideas thrown out about color schemes or venues. After awhile those conversations had stopped. Molly could pinpoint the moment to after a discussion about the guest list. It was the first time Sherlock had found out about her family, or lack thereof. He already knew about both her parents being dead and the fact that she was an only child, but the wedding planning had shown him that Molly one had one living relative, an elderly aunt living in Scotland, to speak of. Shortly after the realization he had invited his parents to London to stay with them. Molly knew he had done it for her alone and she was touched by his gesture. She had met them briefly only once before and had felt welcomed instantly. The week they spent at Baker Street was bliss for Molly who always yearned for the feeling that only real family could provide, the feeling of being included and loved unconditionally and she had felt that from Sherlock's parents. They were warm, caring people who set a great example for a happy and loving marriage.

Since that point, wedding plans weren't brought up. They were happy just being engaged. Or so she'd thought…perhaps Sherlock was having second thoughts.

She fell asleep debating whether to call just to hear his voice and reassure her that everything was okay.

Molly was awoken in the morning by that particular voice as her name echoed in the hallway and through the front door. The room had grown bright with late morning sunlight and she drew the blanket over her face to allow her eyes to adjust.

The next thing she knew Sherlock was swinging open the bedroom door. "I think we should visit my parents today, what do you say?"

She pulled the blanket away from her face too quickly and squinted at him with one eye open in the brightness of the room. His dark form was blocking the light from the window making it impossible to read his expression.

"What? Am I still dreaming?" It was a half joke, but the sudden desire to visit his parents was rather unusual for Sherlock and also strange considering what she had just been mulling over in the night.

"You do look half-asleep, but I assure you that you are not." He leaned down to smooth her tousled hair and kissed the top of her head. She grabbed onto the label of his coat breathing in his musky scent.

"You hate going to your parents'. And it's not even a holiday."

"I thought it would be nice to get away for a bit. John is lending us use of his car." He jingled a set of keys in his hand and sat down on the edge of the bed. Toby crawled into his lap begging for attention and was rewarded with ear scratching.

"Well…I guess it would be okay. Is your case over with?"

"Nearly." Sherlock stood and scooped up Toby in his arms. "I'll go see if Mrs. Hudson can watch this guy for the night." He left the room and Molly heard him slamming kitchen cabinets to feed Toby before heading down the stairs to 221A.

She leaned against the headboard, rubbing her bleary eyes. First strange phone calls, then a sudden overnight out of town, and now a sudden desire to see his parents just as he returned. She shrugged unable to come up with a reason for his behavior the last few days and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. Something told her she was going to need an extra dose of caffeine for the day.

Sherlock was unusually quiet in the car. At first Molly assumed it was due to concentration since that he wasn't used to driving, but after several instances of clearing his throat and appearing to say something before deciding against it, she knew there was something on his mind.

"Everything okay?"

"Of course," he spoke, eyes on the road with a slight twitch of his head.

"Did you have a good trip?"

"Tolerable."

It seemed one word answers was all she was going to get so she turned her attention back to the book in her lap and remained entranced in the plot until a bump in the road jolted her. As she looked out the window, she became instantly confused. They appeared to be heading south not west. It was just then that they passed a sign for Brighton confirming the fact.

"Sherlock, why are we-"

"We're making a slight detour," he interrupted as if he had been anticipating the question for the last hour.

"To Sussex?"

"Mm yes."

"Is this at all related to your case?"

"Y-yes…yes it is. That's it."

Something about his delayed answer told her it wasn't the whole truth. "Should I be worried?" Even though she spoke it with a smile, her concern was genuine.

"Of course not. You know I would never lead you into anything dangerous, don't you, Molly?"

"I just want to be a part of your life, Sherlock. I know what you do is dangerous, but that doesn't keep me from wanting to be with you. Whatever's going on…you can tell me."

He didn't offer a reply so Molly decided to change the subject.

"I haven't been down this way in years, not since we went on family holidays here when I was little. After my mum passed away we stopped coming, but before my dad got really sick when I was at uni we made one last trip, just the two of us, and spent a week on the coast."

"Yes, you told me."

Molly had forgotten sharing the story with Sherlock and was surprised that he remembered.

"Is it okay that I'm bringing you here?" He looked at her worriedly as if he'd done something wrong.

"Of course. Actually all I have are fond memories of this place. It reminds me of the happy times I had with my parents," She smiled reassuringly at him and put a hand on his shoulder.

It seemed to relax Sherlock a little, but he still remained silent for the rest of the trip.

When they reached the South Downs, Molly gasped at the beauty that surrounded them: hillsides in every shade of green imaginable, tiny cottages dotting the landscape, an expansive cloudless blue sky. It was still as gorgeous as she had remembered as a little girl. She cracked the window open to breathe in the fresh salty sea air.

They drove through several small villages. Sherlock was antsy, drumming his fingers nervously on the steering wheel as he maneuvered through the windy and hilly roads. He seemed to know exactly where they were going.

"It's gorgeous. Couldn't you just imagine living here? Why don't we stop and stretch our legs?"

"In a minute, we're almost there."

Shortly after, they pulled in front of a small white cottage that sat atop a large grassy hill. It had sweeping views of the lush landscape and just a short distance away she could see the Channel and its white-sided cliffs.

Sherlock cut the engine in the driveway. Molly looked around expecting to see another car thinking it was a client's house, but the place was deserted.

"Shall we?" he asked before opening the door. Molly noticed the brand new looking brass key on the ring for the first time.

As she followed behind him through the small garden filled with wildflowers, Molly felt nervous not knowing what to expect. "You're sure you have permission to be here?"

Sherlock put the key into the brand new looking lock and turned it slowly before holding the door open for Molly to enter first.

Molly cautiously stepped through the doorway and was surprised to find it empty-or nearly so. The cottage was more spacious than it appeared on the outside. They entered into a decent sized parlor that had a fireplace and built-in bookshelves lining the walls. Two bedrooms and a bathroom branched off of a central hallway that led to a small, but modern kitchen in the rear.

Stepping into the kitchen, Molly was taken back to see a table with a microscope and several glass beakers set up. The place was devoid of furniture except for this room. She was hit by a feeling of strange familiarity.

"Look they have-" Molly began when it suddenly hit her, the reason why he had brought her here. "Wait…what…why…" She spun around to find Sherlock smiling. He had been watching her closely the whole time, waiting for her to realize.

"Does this mean…" she was having trouble formulating words into complete thoughts.

Sherlock clasped his hands behind his back and nodded toward the table. "I knew you'd realize once you saw that. It was my special touch to make it seem a little more like home."

"You…you bought me a house." Shocked was an understatement for what Molly was feeling. Her body was frozen in place even though her mind was spinning.

He stepped towards her hesitantly, misreading her astonishment as disapproval. "You hate it. It's okay. I can resell it. We don't have to-"

"No. I love it. I mean…you bought me a house." Her eyes began to fill with tears.

"Really?" Sherlock asked, his face still looking uncertain.

Molly threw her arms around Sherlock's neck. "Of course really." He wrapped his arms around her waist and they stood still for a few moments in the silence of the empty space before Molly pulled back.

"Sherlock, is this what you've been working on? This is your case?"

A chuckle rumbled deep in his throat. "I guess I wasn't so good at hiding that fact."

Molly joined in with a laugh. "No. I mean I knew you up to something, but this…I had no idea." She walked around the room with new eyes. It was theirs.

"So everything-the phone calls, the meetings-was for all this?"

Sherlock nodded. "I hated keeping it from you, but I…wanted to surprise you." He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat and looked away sheepishly.

"You remembered me telling you about coming here with my parents."

"I know how happy you were here and I wanted to give you something to remind you of that. When I heard Janine was selling this place, I knew it was perfect."

"This is Janine's cottage?"

"Was Janine's. Originally she wouldn't sell to me, but when I told her why I wanted it…she relented. Of course, I'm going to reinstate the beehives out back. It was foolish of her to remove them with bee populations in such decline. I've been meaning to do a study of their behavior for some time. It's hard to do that in London."

"Sherlock Holmes, the beekeeper. I can see it." She chucked as she imagined Sherlock in the hat with the veil.

"Why'd you need my ID?"

"For the paperwork. I put this place in both of our names. There are still a couple things for you to sign before it's completely official."

"What about last night?"

"I came here to clear the place out. Janine was rather slovenly."

"So the idea of visiting your parents was just a ruse to get me here?"

"We can still go see them if you want. They have been nagging me for a visit for months. You've made quite the impression on them. I thought though that we'd sleep here tonight. There's a Li-lo in the car and some food. If you want."

"You thought of everything."

"Mary insisted on helping," he admitted.

"Mary knew?! No wonder she hasn't returned my calls lately, she's been trying to keep a secret." Molly suddenly felt better knowing why people had been avoiding her lately.

"We'll still live at Baker Street, of course. But whenever we need to get away, we can come here. And I thought maybe…for the Sex Holiday."

"Normal people call it a 'honeymoon'."

"Well I am not a normal person. Besides it's a more accurate description."

"Except if we have bees than 'honeymoon' fits also." Molly giggled at her own joke while Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I thought maybe these last few days that you might be having second thoughts about getting married," Molly admitted.

"You did? That couldn't be further from the truth. I've wanted nothing but since I asked you. I thought that maybe you were having doubts about marrying a man like me."

"Really? I can't wait to marry you, Sherlock." She reached for his hands and kissed them. "I wonder if anyone would believe me if I told them that Sherlock Holmes is the sweetest, most romantic and generous man I've ever known."

Sherlock grinned. "I wouldn't go spreading that around too much, might hurt my international reputation. Criminals would think I've gone soft."

Molly grabbed onto the collar of his coat, pulling him close. "I guess it'll just be our little secret then," she whispered into his ear before pressing her lips against his own.

Two months later…

"Have we got everything? I feel like we're forgetting something," she asked after climbing into the car and clasping her seat belt.

"Relax, Molly. We've got everything…and by everything I mean food. Clothing was optional wasn't it?" Sherlock smirked at her suggestively before putting the car into gear and pulling away from the curb. He'd been anxious to leave the whole day, nearly pulling Molly out the door in her pyjamas (or lack thereof). Molly scoffed and smacked him gently on the shoulder at his remark.

"I think it's just that I'm not used to leaving Toby this long."

"Don't worry. Mrs. Hudson will spoil him far too much. He'll be overweight by the time we get back."

He was right. Toby would be having a holiday of his own.

Molly looked down at the antique engagement ring on her finger which was now accompanied by a new shiny golden band. Another chuckle escaped from her lips.

Sherlock looked at her quizzically, "What are you thinking about?"

"When you proposed in the morgue."

"It wasn't supposed to be that way, you know. I had it all planned out with Mary's help-your favorite restaurant, that song I wrote for you-"

"But when you saw me standing over that corpse, you just couldn't resist," she teased.

"Oddly yes. And you didn't hate me for it."

Molly looked wistfully out the raindrop-covered windscreen. "I don't know there was something kind of romantic about it."

"Only you would say that, Molly."

"We're freaks, aren't we?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He grabbed her hand and kissed her on the ring finger.

Her husband.

The newly married Mr. Holmes and Dr. Hooper…it didn't seem real, but it was and she had never been happier.

She looped her arm around his and rested her head against his shoulder.

London faded away in the rearview mirror and the sun peaked from behind the clouds as they drove to their cottage by the sea.

I was worried Sherlock might seem too sweet in this story but then I thought about the hallway scene in TEH. I think in their moments alone together that he is the kindest and sweetest person because Molly is the person to bring out that side of him and he loves her. Hope I didn't give you a toothache from the sugary sweetness, but sometimes you just need it.

This was sort of inspired by the episode of The Office where Jim buys Pam his parents' house. As soon as I heard in HLV that Janine was buying that cottage I pictured Sherlock buying it from her eventually to stick with the canon. Also, that episode was titled "Frame Toby" so of course I had to have Sherlock blame the cat for something. ;)

The title comes from the song "Home Again" by Beach House:

Constant heart of my devotion
Must be you, the door to open
Home again, be here, be with him

Will I swim out of your ocean?