Jim was back, and so was Sherlock. She didn't know what to make of it, so she simply settled for ignoring her feelings and struggling on – as she always did.

Until Sherlock barged into the lab, gripped her shoulders and promised he would see that nothing happened to her. That was when she eventually lost it, extricated herself from his grasp in a vain attempt to hide the tears that were now falling freely down her cheeks.

He tentatively wrapped his arms around her in an awkward attempt to offer his comfort. She let him, counting each of her shaky breaths until she managed some semblance of control.

xxx

They'd come so close to losing each other again, but now it was all over. Jim was gone for good this time, and yet she still couldn't quite believe it.

Sherlock didn't utter a word as he escorted her to her flat, his hand shaking ever so slightly around the cup of coffee she'd made especially for him.

She felt like crying, though she didn't know why. Her heart leapt in her throat when he closed the distance between them and brushed his lips at the corner of her mouth.

Something snapped inside of her, something she'd kept locked away for so long.

He didn't pull back as she was expecting, simply contented himself with following her lead. In the morning he placed a soft kiss on her temple, then vanished out of the door.

xxx

The two of them started spending more and more time together once John's daughter was born.

Sherlock dragged her from a crime scene to another, often followed her home in order to discuss one of their cases. They never openly addressed what was going on between them, but she didn't really feel the need to.

If anything, it would only made Sherlock panic – and that was the very last thing she wanted.

He didn't protest when her overnight bag found a permanent place in his bathroom. Nor was he embarrassed in the slightest when his landlady walked on them curled up on the sofa with his head resting in her lap.

Molly blushed crimson, but Mrs Hudson only gave her a knowing smile and dug out another teacup from the cupboard.

xxx

Greg invited her for a drink after a case, Sherlock having excused himself for some unclear reason.

"You look good," he announced at length. "Are you seeing someone, by any chance?"

She paused, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "I actually am," she replied slowly, finding a smile of her own.

"Good for you. He's a lucky guy, I hope he's aware of that."

Molly didn't think he was – but then he was Sherlock, so it didn't count.

Is Lestrade behaving himself? he texted her halfway through the evening.

Of course he is, she texted back. He's not you after all.

That's a bit redundant, don't you think?

She chuckled between herself and slid the phone back into her bag.

xxx

When his daughter was a couple of months old John was back to solving crimes, much to Sherlock's delight. Molly knew how happy he was about it, even went as far as teasing him on a couple of occasions.

She was watching the two of them as they discussed the bruises on the victim's body when John trailed off mid-sentence, his eyes fixed on the cup of coffee Sherlock had taken the habit to bring her whenever he showed up at St Bart's.

"Oh, dear. Greg had told me you were seeing someone, but I had no idea…"

Sherlock furrowed his brow and considered his friend with bland interest. "Problem?"

"Not at all. What were you saying about those bruises?"

Molly hid her smile behind the Styrofoam cup, then went to fetch the lab results she'd obtained earlier.