A/N: This story references His Last Vow. Avoid this story to avoid spoilers.
You, Molly
She saw her phone screen light up, as a name that never once called her and never would have, flashed incessantly before her.
Hasn't he left already? Why is he calling?
She had been informed, personally by Mycroft, that Sherlock was never going to be seen again. He was going to step on a plane to somewhere and never return. Molly didn't dare to ask if he meant it figuratively or not.
So this call, this flashing of the name Sherlock Holmes on her mobile phone baffled her.
Is this a hoax? A joke?
No, Sherlock Holmes had a cruel sense of humour but this would have been a little beneath him.
An emergency?
Her heart rate picked up. Everything about Sherlock Holmes was unexpected, but if she thought hard about it, it was never to any detriment. It may seem destructive on the surface, but really, his intention was never to harm. This was the part of Sherlock Holmes' heart that Molly saw before anyone else. Even before Sherlock himself.
"Hello?"
"Molly."
"Yes."
"Sorry I didn't say goodbye."
"It's okay. You never do."
"I didn't want to have to tell you I was going to die. Again."
"Are you?"
"I was…"
"But?"
"I've been offered an extension."
"So you're coming back?"
"Yes."
"I see. So, back to Baker Street…"
"No."
"No?"
"No, Molly."
"Where are you going?"
"Well, I'm already here."
"I don't understand…"
The familiar, almost nostalgic click of her door being picked nearly caused Molly to drop her phone. The door was pushed gently open and there he stood, his tall, dark frame forming a shadow at her doorway.
"Sherlock…" she whispered, still holding her phone to her ear.
He smiled. A soft, melancholic smile. His eyes had the tiniest glint, catching what little light there was from the sole lamp that lit Molly's flat. As he walked towards her, Molly could feel her heart crash and burn from the torrents of grief, relief, love and bitterness that battled in her ribcage.
"Why…are you in my flat?" she asked, gritting her teeth to fight tears.
"I had to see you." he answered quietly, gazing gently down at her.
"Did you…need something?" A tear slid from her eye, betraying her.
Sherlock leaned forward and gently kissed the side of her face where the sole tear had fallen. Molly shut her eyes and with both hands, placed them on his chest and gently but firmly separated him from her.
"Is…there…something…you…need?" she said in, slow, calculated breaths. Her hands remained on him with stiffened elbows to keep him at bay, to keep him away.
Slowly, his gloved hands reached for her wrists, lowering them back to her side. He stepped forward, closing the gap she had put between them. Then, he lowered his head, kissing her again, on the same side of her face. He kept his lips pressed against her skin longer this time, relishing the proximity he never knew he craved. Then softly, he answered her:
"You, Molly Hooper. Always you."
End