Sherlock was on a case with John when they notice Molly coming out of a florist holding a single dark pink rose.
For some reason Sherlock got sidetracked, and started following the petite pathologist instead of concentrating on the case, leaving a confused John behind.
She went to the graveyard, placing the rose on a grave, kissed the headstone, and dried away a stray tear before leaving.
It wasn't much of a puzzle as to who was in the grave, it was however a puzzle to Sherlock why he had felt a sudden surge of despair as he'd seen the tear roll down Molly's cheek.
Sherlock soon learned that Molly walked by her fathers grave every Sunday, sometimes before work, and others after, depending much on how her schedule looked, but go she did.
He thought about her words, her words from the day just before his fall 'you look sad, when you think he can't see you.'
Sherlock started looking at her, really looking, and his heart clenched when he realised how she looked sad, that behind her always cheery smile, there was sadness, the consulting detective hated himself for missing it, for always missing something.
He started going by her fathers grave, he'd taken the time to read about the colour of roses, and their meanings.
Dark pink as it turned out, showed appreciation, and grattitude, it was a thank you.
Before he knew it Sherlock started a rutine of his own, leaving a single yellow rose on the grave every Saturday.
The yellow rose could mean jealousy, but it also meant a promise of a new beginning, and thank you.
He'd told her thank you many times, but he found that he could never tell her enough.
Sherlock went to Mycroft, it went against all his reasons, but he needed help, and Mycroft was the only one who could provide it this time.
He told Mycroft about the small cottage Molly had grown up in, Sherlock had heard her tell him about it once during one of her visits after the fall, she had tended to tell him about her childhood, an unconcious way of calming herself down as she patched him up.
The cottage Molly had grown up in had been sold, her father had lost quite a lot of money, and they'd been forced to move, Molly had cried.
He asked Mycroft to get it back, to have it renovated, to set up a few bee hives in the back yard.
Mycroft had raised his eyebrows at his brother at the mention of the bee hives, to which Sherlock had given his brother the - don't be dense brother dear - look, the only answer Mycroft needed to confirm his suspicion that Sherlock had every intention of going to live with Molly Hooper.
When Sherlock had left and Mycroft had called up a few contacts, quickly setting the plan into motion, the British Government gave a knowing smirk. He knew this outcome had been inevitable for quite some time, only waiting for his brother to come to the same conclusion, which it seemed he had finally done.
Molly had found herself thinking of the yellow roses that suddenly showed up on her fathers grave, in a way it had scared her, but when nothing had changed over the five Sunday's they'd been there, she started relaxing, although still wondering as to who was leaving them.
When Sherlock stormed into the morgue, with his Belstaff brushing theatrically behind him, and she found herself beeing dragged off to a big black car, the rose, and the thought of who left it there, left her head.
The thought returned however when the car drove up and stopped in front of her old house, yellow, and dark pink roses occupying the frontyard beautifully.
She turned to a nervous looking Sherlock, he was biting his lower lip but soon opened his mouth to tell her that he didn't want to see her sad anymore, that he'd had Mycroft place a few bee hives in the backyard, both good for the flowers and his own boredom.
He informed her that he'd still go on cases, and that he would keep 221B for experiments, and for recieving cases, but that he'd very much like if he could live with her in the small cottage the rest of the time, he even promised to buy milk.
His face fell when he saw the tear return, but when a sincere smile formed on Molly's lips her realised that this wasn't a tear of sadness, nor loneliness, it was of happiness.
She almost crashed into him, throwing her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
The consulting detective was - to say the least - shocked, not only that Molly had been so straightforward, but of how much he enjoyed the feel of her mouth moving over his.
The last thing he saw before closing his eyes and losing himself to Molly Hooper, was the knowing smile of his older brother, stepping out of the house to greet them welcome.
