And suddenly she didn't care. She started running without putting on her coat.
When she stepped outside she could see his figure in the dark, his coat waving the wind, his shadow becoming smaller and smaller. The sky seemed blurred and little clouds hid the moon away, she looked at her arms while little goosebumps appeared. Well, no time for a coat. She started running, not noticing her yellowish beautiful bow fell to the ground. When she came closer to the dark curly figure who already seemed to slow down, she said it:
"Sherlock."
He didn't turn around.
"Sherlock. I know, you can hear me, so stop, please." He stopped. His shoulders showed an upward movement, he must have taken a deep breath if one could see it through his coat. He still didn't turn around; Molly shook her head since she knew he was a grown-up child. Stubborn and vulnerable. Actually, he was the most vulnerable person she had ever met in her whole life. He never expressed his feelings, well, he did it quite rarely. At least he had thanked her; he had told her that she indeed did matter. She mattered quite a lot.
After Sherlock had left, had faked his death and decided not to come back for two years, she found Tom and as she had already explained, she did actually like him. Well, she got engaged to him instead of saying 'no, you will never be the man I love the most'. When she had given up any hope of him coming back, he found her in her empty locker room. And she felt it. Relief. Happiness. Love. There was no sense in denying it. But still, she was engaged now and there was no possibility to run back to Sherlock Holmes. Of all people, Sherlock was the one she loved but she decided to love him in a different way, to care about him, to comfort him, to love him as a …
He turned around.
"Molly", he almost whispered. His mouth was almost closed, there was a reddish glance in his eyes forming a contrast to their blueness. His chest moved up and down.
"Sherlock, why did leave?"
"There was no sense in staying."
"Well, there was no sense in coming back. But you still did."
"Molly, go back. I'm pretty sure, Tom's waiting."
"I don't care, Sherlock. And you can see that I don't care. You can deduce it, so don't pretend to care about me going back to Tom. Since you came back…"
"Stop it, Molly." She saw his back again. Here we go, she thought. 12 year old Sherlock. She stared at him.
"You've been lovely lately, you did change, you know. And so did I. I won't stutter facing you. I won't try to impress you anymore. I feel fine, I went on with my life since Sherlock Holmes left." That last one hurt him. She could feel his heart breaking but she wanted him to face the truth. She loved him but she could cope with that fact now. That was the difference. She grew up. They all changed since he left because for the first time in their lives they could start over and focus on themselves. Greg did. John did. Mrs. Hudson did. She did.
"You did."
"What?"
"You're right. You did change."
He turned around again. There was warmth on his face. These were expressions Molly had rarely seen before. Unlike the expressions she didn't realize he was moving closer until his coat waved around her and stroke her. His deduction skills were still quite amazing.
"Your bow is gone."
"What?" His long and bony fingers went along her cheekbones and placed her wavy hair behind her ear.
"Doesn't matter, that bow was ridiculous." He smiled.
"So are you."
He placed a kiss on her forehead before looking at her perfectly shaped face. When she opened her eyes, slowly, just to inspect the space that was left between their faces, he kissed her cheek and she felt the bony fingers of his right hand on her cheekbones. He was holding her face like he never wanted to let it go.
Then he kissed her. Insecure. He knew the theory but, he was right, he was lacking the practical experience.
