Molly was terribly bored to say the least. There was another charity fundraiser at Bart's Hospital that was mandatory for all employees to attend. Her date had bailed on her, and on top of that, things had been weird with Sherlock since the Sherrinford incident. It was obvious to anyone that she missed him, as he hardly came by the lab unless it was absolutely necessary. Even then, he wouldn't dare speak a word to her for fear of ruining what scraps of their friendship was left.
She had been upset at first over the phone call, yes, but she felt lighter and simply free since her one and only secret was out in the open. Sherlock knew she loved him and he had been so kind to her when he stopped by to tell her everything that had happened. Molly wasn't angry or even hurt anymore by the time he had arrived. She remembered holding him in her arms as he emotionally recounted the events. He didn't even resist her comforting kiss to his forehead. That was the last time they had a meaningful interaction.
Sherlock scurried down the corridor to find where the fundraiser was being held. He had just nearly escaped having to bring his parents to another musical. His excuse was just through those double doors. That was not the only reason he wanted to show up to this public event. A certain pathologist needed him whether she said so or not.
Once he learned that her date bailed on her last minute by listening in on her phone call, he took action. It just so happened to work out for him to get out of family bonding time. Granted, he loved his parents, but it was still to tense what with Eurus still not speaking and such.
After locating Molly in a beautiful off-the-shoulder, black a-line evening dress. Her hair was in loose waves, spilling over her shoulders. He loved the rare times her she allowed her hair down, only wanting to run his hands through it as he kissed her. Sherlock couldn't help but notice how miserable she looked, standing all alone by the platter of chocolate covered strawberries.
"Miss Hooper, you look ravishing tonight," he purred. That rich baritone voice speaking so softly to her, sent chills up her spine.
"Well, thank you, Sherlock," she replied. "You look quite handsome." And he truly did. Though Molly loved his unruly curls, she found that his hair slicked back the way it was gave him a very distinguished look. "What exactly are you doing here, though?"
"I'm only here to establish an alibi," Sherlock replied all too quickly.
"An alibi? For what?" Molly asked.
"This was my excuse to not have to suffer through a musical of disinterest with my parents," he answered.
"Oh," her voice was small. She had hoped he was here for her somehow. Molly knew he had overheard the fact her date backed out last minute.
"You look positively forlorn, Molly," he pointed out.
"Well, can you blame me? My date backs out last minute, I'm bored and I miss my best friend," she told him sadly.
"Where's your best friend?" Sherlock inquired.
"He's standing right in front of me," Molly gave a disheartened laugh. "Why don't you ever spend time with me anymore?"
"I wanted to give you space," he responded. "I figured it would be easier to distance myself so that when you realized I was nothing but a git who didn't deserve you, it wouldn't hurt as much."
"How could you think that about yourself? Sherlock, you know how I feel," Molly locked her eyes with his.
"Yes, I do," he stated. "And you should know how I feel because I miss my best friend too." With that, he swept her into his arms and they began to waltz. Molly laughed wholeheartedly for the first time in weeks.
"And how do you feel, Sherlock?" she asked.
"I feel that I cannot bear another moment without your smile and your morbid jokes. I never want to be without you, Molly Hooper, because I am deeply in love with you," Sherlock confessed.
"And I love you, Sherlock Holmes," Molly smiled. The waltz ended and a slower song began. The two of them just swayed together, unable to concentrate on anything other than the moment that had just unfolded between them. Their foreheads were pressed together, noses touching.
"What is it?" he asked, noticing a strange look on her face.
"Are you gonna kiss me or not?" she teased. Sherlock tightened his hold on her as his hand drifted up into her hair and pressed his lips fervently against hers. It was like a burst of clarity for Sherlock. It was clear to him now that this was meant to be. He did not believe in deities or fate, but he silently thanked whoever or whatever it was that created the woman he loved. She was his angel and he had promised himself to her from that moment on.