Molly sighed as she picked up the full cup of coffee once again. Sherlock never drank it, but he always wanted it when he was there. His quick stops at the morgue got rather old, and sometimes she wished he would just stay and enjoy his coffee over a long chat with her about little nothings.
Sighing again as she poured the cold coffee in the sink, Molly took off her lab coat and reached for the door handle. Suddenly, it swung open and the familiar trench coat stepped inside. She jumped back in surprise, "Oh-Sherlock!"
"Why did you throw out my coffee, Molly? I was going to drink that, you know."
"What?" She paused, "Sherlock, I make you coffee every time you stop by the morgue and you never drink it."
"Yes I do."
"No you don't!" Molly responded.
He plopped himself down in her desk chair and gave it a spin. "I think I'll stay awhile, if you don't mind." Sherlock said, spinning the chair in the opposite direction.
Molly knew he wasn't really asking if she minded. He never asked anyone's opinion on what he did. "No, I don't mind. Why aren't you here instead of out chasing murderers or jumping off buildings?"
Sherlock stopped spinning and turned to face Molly. "I wanted to talk to you."
"What about?" Molly asked quizzically.
He stood and stepped towards her, "About the kiss."
Her face flushed at the memory. "That was—that was nothing. You were simply thanking me for my help." Molly looked at the floor, pushing her feelings farther down inside, denying herself the pleasure of thinking Sherlock had feelings for her.
"Did it really mean nothing to you, Molly Hooper?" Sherlock asked, stepping closer, taking her hands in his.
"No—I mean yes, I mean—", Then they were kissing. All efforts to hide her true feelings were destroyed as Molly relaxed into the glorious moment. As she broke the kiss to breathe, her mind dropped to Earth at a sickening speed.
Disentangling herself from Sherlock's arms, she stumbled backwards, steadying herself against the lab table. Breathing hard now, she said frantically, "I can't do this, no I can't do this again. No, not again."
Sherlock closed the gap between them again and lifted her chin so that she was forced to stare in to his crystal blue eyes. "Molly."
She thought to herself, heart pounding:
Molly, you can't do this. He's broken your heart too many times. He's Sherlock Holmes. He doesn't understand human emotions. He can't love you.
The words in her mind were like a dark cloud, but Sherlock's beautiful eyes were like a blast of sunlight, able to drive away even the worst of storms.
What if he does love you? Isn't this everything you've ever wanted? Isn't HE everything you've ever wanted? Nice is normal, and normal is boring, Molly.
The words inside gave her a sudden wave of courage and she broke the silence. "Sherlock,"
"Yes, Molly?" He asked gently.
"I—uh, I…" She stuttered
"I love you." They said in perfect synchronization.
Sherlock smiled as Molly slipped her hand into his curly locks and pulled him into a soft, tender kiss.
Where are you? –John
Molly smiled and held up Sherlock's phone, "You'd better go back, John's getting lonely."
He laughed and put on his trench coat, turning up his collar as he walked towards the door.
"Sherlock?"
"Yes, Molly?" He looked over his shoulder.
"Do you still want your coffee?"
