Rapid pulse, dilated pupils, shortness of breath. Sherlock was confused. When he had diagnosed this about Irene Adler, it clearly meant Miss Adler had affections for him. But this wasn't the Woman. This was Sherlock himself, and how he had recently become around none other than Miss Molly Hooper.

"No, no, no." He muttered. If he knew nothing else in the world (a disgusting impossibility) it was that he, Sherlock Holmes, did not have emotions. No. No. No.

"Sherlock!" John's irritated, irritating voice came in.

"Mind Palace, John! Do you mind?" Was the retort.

"Seems how I've been talking to you for the past hour, yeah, I do mind."

Heaving a sigh he whipped his head around to face Dr. Watson, "What, John?" Each word came out clear and crisp.

"Molly texted – an hour ago – and said that there's a fresh corpse in that pertains to the case. She wants us up at the morgue. Now, let's go."

"Molly texted?" Sherlock's upper lip twitched, "Honestly, John. Why didn't you say something sooner?" He grabbed his coat and exited the flat with a flourish.

Resisting the urge to punch his flatmate, John followed.

Molly was waiting for them. "There you are!"

"John failed to inform me of this… this, ah, development. That's the word." There went his blasted heart again, beating out of time! He quickly deduced Molly. Dilated pupils. No. no. no.

Sherlock Holmes without the right word on the tip of his tongue? There's a first. Molly thought.

"He was in his Mind Palace." John said, oblivious.

"I see," Molly said with a light blush beginning to spread. Sherlock was staring at her, quite probably, no, definitely, deducing. If his eyes weren't so captivating, his gaze not so intense… she lost her train of thought. "R-right, then. Th-the corpse." She said motioning.

They followed her and she continued, "He turned up dead with the same fatal wound as the last one. Rope burns on the ankles, wrist, and neck. He was bound and strangled. Last night according to the report."

"Wrong," Sherlock said confidently.

"I'm sorry?" Molly replied nervously. Sherlock was less than two inches from her face. And then he looked down to meet her eyes, bringing them closer.

"The report is wrong. There is a coffee stain on his hand here, see. The last time he left his flat was yesterday morning. If you spill coffee on yourself, naturally you wipe it off. But he didn't have time. He was in a hurry. Where was he going? His attire suggests he had an office job. There's a slight variation in the skin tone on his left ring finger indicating he was married, but unfaithful. He removed his ring as soon as he left the house, but never had the opportunity to put it back on. His wife finds out, becomes angry because this is what everyone said would happen and poisons his coffee with an untraceable substance and hires someone to bind him with ropes and throw him in an alley to make it look like the other murders taking place recently. She is currently pretending to grieve to throw everyone off her scent. This man never even made it to work, causing his boss to call. After several rings and no answer, he decides to call the authorities. It's a busy workday, and the call has to wait. He figures this man is just taking a day off without calling in, anyway, but just wants to be sure. It's late when the call is made. The authorities find him in an alley bound, and assume that this case is related, but the report is wrong."

"Oh." Molly manages to reply, feeling foolish. She should've just asked Sherlock what the end of the cadaver was. Of course he knew.

Sherlock's eyes flicked up and down her form, "Molly, have I offended you?"

"N-no," she stammered, caught off guard that he cared if she were offended, "It's just – no."

"John," Sherlock quickly directed his attention to the other doctor in the room, "I believe I'll stay awhile. You catch a cab home."

"You sure?" He raised an eyebrow.

"John, when am I ever not sure?"

He shrugged apologetically and turned to go, leaving Sherlock with, sweet, shy, nervous Molly Hooper. His Molly. She had to be his. It was now or never.

"Molly," He began.

She looked up pulling him in with her big brown eyes.

He continued, "There has been a new, uh, development that I would like to speak with you about."

"O-okay," She stuttered.

"It is no secret that you have had affections for me for quite some time,"

Molly felt the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. He sent John away so he could embarrass her.

"No, Molly! Sweet, Molly don't cry!"

Had he just called her sweet Molly?

"The development in question is this: You have affections for me, and recently I have discovered myself reciprocating them. That, Molly Hooper, is the development.

She dared to look up at him with his ocean-in-a-raging-storm eyes searing into hers. "You don't meant that," She said in barely a whisper. Molly still wasn't sure that this wasn't some experiment of his. "How Normal People React When The Object of Their Affection Admits to Reciprocated Feelings" or something of the sort. Let him have his fun, but she'd learned not to get her hopes up.

"Dear, Molly. I've never meant anything more! All those times I've hurt your feelings deducing about a man you were dating - I never wanted you to be sad, I just didn't want you to be happy with anyone else. Molly," He gently cupped his hand under her chin, forcing her to hold his gaze, "How can I prove it to you?"

"I-I don't know," She felt the tears returning. This was becoming a cruel joke.

Sherlock admitted to himself that he didn't know how to make Molly believe him, so he did the only thing he could think of. He moved the hand under her chin to the side of her face, his other hand rising to parallel it.

She felt his soft, warm lips press against her own. Something like an objection had formed at the back of her throat, but immediately melted. How many times had she dreamed about this and now it was actually happening. She leaned into him placing her arms comfortably on his shoulders. Sherlock broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers.

"Do you believe me now?"

"Yes, but what does it mean? For us?"

"Molly Hooper," He was staring directly into her eyes, "I love you. I know now that I always will. I beg your forgiveness for every rude thing I've ever said to you. Thank you for loving me in spite of them. I want to be yours, forever, and I want you to be mine."

"Sherlock, I-" she what? Loved him? He knew that. She tilted her head back so their lips were almost touching and closed her eyes, "I want to be yours forever."

Sherlock closed the gap. He could feel Molly's smile against his lips. So innocent and genuine. He allowed himself a genuine smile before Molly broke the kiss. Sherlock kissed her lightly on her nose and then her forehead before turning to leave.

Back at the flat, John was waiting for him. "There you are. What took so long?"

Sherlock answered simply, "Molly and I were discussing a… development.