He stood at her doorstep, feeling the weight of the world on his now thin and weak shoulders. Did he even dare to ring the bell? But his hands worked on muscle memory, the button pressed before he could think otherwise.
She stood drying her hands on a tea towel, hardly any surprise registering on her face.
"Oh, Sherlock. Come on in."
She returned back to drying the cups and cleaning the kitchen, probably expecting him to lay claim on her sofa. He was proven correct when she turned and was startled at finding him in the kitchen instead, standing merely a hand's distance away.
"Sherlock?"
Her whispered question was the last salvo that broke his resolve. Moving right into her space he hesitated while looking at her bemused face, and then threw caution to the winds as he put his arms around her and pulled her to him, hiding his face in the crook of her neck.
She remained still for a moment, then cautiously moved her arms till she too held him close.
As he remained pliant she slowly relaxed, her hold now more comforting. It further changed when he exhaled slowly into her hair, then deeply inhaled her essence. It was coffee and dishwasher soap with a slight undertone of her body wash. It was pure Molly.
He knew hugs, there had been a few he remembered. He had been hugged by Mary, by his mother, by Mrs Hudson. There had been that one hug with John during his wedding, that enforced hold by Graham.
But he now knew what it meant to be held in love's true embrace. It was comfort, safety, acceptance. It was a whole new feeling that he had kept himself away from. Coz he knew it would be addictive.
As he snuggled further into her he accepted that this was one addiction he was done fighting against.