"You"
Was the last thing she heard before Sherlock planted a kiss upon her lips, pressing her slightly against the wall. It started off chaste, but was sooner deepened when she realised what was happening and had gotten over the shock.
Her bags dropped to the floor. And so did Sherlocks coat.
Molly pulled away, looking up into his eyes questioningly. To which Sherlock registered and answered
"I'll explain later."
Leaning back in for a second kiss, Molly laced her fingers through his hair, tips slipping deeper into the luscious curls. Sherlocks hands snaked around her waist to pull her closer. The atmosphere between them began to hotten up, as they grew closer, kisses becoming more passionate, it was then that Molly realised where she was, what she was doing, and who with..
She pulled them apart, not angry, just very confused.
"Wait, Sherlock, we can't do this here! And why in the first place?"
"I need your help."
"You could've just asked!"
"Keep your voice down!"
"Stop changing the subject!"
"No!" Sherlock tried leaning back in, almost forcefully.
Why was he being like this? Was he trying to win her over? He wanted her help, couldn't he just ask? And why on earth didn't she say any of this out loud?
"Sherlock, stop, stop!" Molly pushed him away now!
"What? Is it really a problem? Are you actually complaining?"
"Yes! What were you hoping to achieve?"
"Sorry, what? You're actually going to complain?"
"Oh get over yourself! What do you want?" Molly hadn't been angry before, but that was changing quickly.
"Remember what I said a few minutes ago? I'm going to die. Or I will, unless you help me..."
"Sherlock..."
"Please! Molly, I need you!" Sherlock sounded less cocky now, more, emotional... Hang on, wait, emotional. Was that really the right word to describe Sherlock Holmes?
That was when she saw tears pricking in the corners of his eyes. Molly knew he was a good actor, a brilliant actor, when it came to it, but this didn't seem like acting now. These seemed like genuine tears, as they started to fall.
Emotional? Apparently yes..
Molly couldn't do anymore that gesture him to sit down. However coming to the realisation that there was no where to sit, that the floor would have to do.
Sherlock slowly slumped down, taking Molly with him, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
"Molly, I need your help. Please." The crying started to slow.
"Yes. Why didn't you just say so. Instead of, well, that. And no, I wasn't complaining. I was just confused. You kind of just, sprung it upon me?! How could I react any other way except to ask why?"
"Yes. Good. But. About what I actually need you to do."
"Yes, right, sorry."
"When I say I think I'm going to die, I mean, I will, without the help. What I really need your help with, is, I need to fake it. My death. I need you, to help me, fake my death. There."
"Right... Where do I come in?"
"Several aspects really. And, well, there's one you can do right here, right now."
"Oh, what's that?"
"This..."
Sherlock planted another kiss, first to her forehead, and then to her lips, a real one this time. Not just to get his own way. Not just to win her round. Not because he needed something, but because he needed her.
He needed Molly Hooper. He always had done, he always will do. His Pathologist. She counted. She mattered.