Molly let out a small sigh as she switched off the light in the lab at Bart's as she thought about what had happened with Sherlock earlier that day; his face when she told him that she knew that she didn't count to him gave her a tiny sliver of hope as he looked almost appalled when she had said so. However, she knew that she was being silly. What would the brilliant, intelligent and absolutely beautiful Sherlock Holmes want with her: a boring pathologist who spent most of her time around the dead; that's why she had wanted to become a pathologist after all, she wasn't good with people, and the deceased didn't expect anything of her.
Deep in thought she had almost had a heart attack when she heard that deep, sexy baritone voice that she loved so much: "You're wrong you know; you do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you… but you were right, I'm not ok." Molly didn't know what to say, unsure of whether he was being genuine, or if he was just manipulating her… but then she realized how desperate he sounded.
"Tell me what's wrong."
"Molly, I think I'm going to die."
At that moment Molly replied with the question that she had been asking Sherlock since the day that they had met. Only this time it was without exasperation as it sometimes was, without the dreading feeling that came with asking him anything as he would usually reply to any question that she asked with a snide remark about her appearance or things that she was doing wrong. It was asked with a pure longing to help the man who she had loved for what felt like forever; the man who could never love her back: "What do you need?"
Sherlock admired Molly in a way that she would never know, not because he didn't want to tell her how much she meant to him, he just didn't know how.
"If I wasn't everything that you think I am, everything that I think I am, would you still help me?"
"What do you need?"
Sherlock took two steps closer to Molly.
"You."
This word, this tiny three letter word was one that Molly had wanted to hear for a very long time. She felt a surge of confidence rage through her as she swiftly moved toward Sherlock, placed her hands on his cool, sharp cheeks and pressed her lips against his. At first Sherlock stood there frozen, unsure of what to do, eventually his primal instincts took over and his mouth started to move against hers. Unfortunately, just as he began to do so alarm bells went off inside Molly's head as she realized what she was doing and with who. She recoiled from the kiss abruptly and Sherlock stood there, dumbfounded. He squinted his eyes, opened his mouth, and then closed it just as quickly. Molly, embarrassed at her actions stammered as she didn't know quite what to do: "Uhhh um… I'm sorry I don't know what… I didn't mean to…"
She felt her cheeks burning as he backed away slowly and turned around, trying to walk away with at least some of her dignity in tact when she felt cool, slender fingers on her shoulders, drawing her back in. Sherlock turned her around and traced the palms of his hands down the side of her body until he reached her waist which was where he stopped. He looked into her eyes which were dilated as expected and allowed himself to smirk as Molly stole a glance at his lips. He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers once again, hers like melted chocolate as he drowned in their deliciousness. Passion grew in their kisses as Molly moaned into his mouth, music to his ears as he slowly pushed her back against the wall of the lab.
