A/N: It's the last day of Sherlolly appreciation week... Today the theme is free choice. It's an AU fic, pre- TEH. As usual, please review if you like what you read!
The living room was dusty, but Molly could still sense some of Sherlock's presence.
'Molly, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?' Tom asked. Molly stared at the black velvet box, her eyes teary.
'I am, so sorry Tom. I can't do it.' She whispered and grabbed her bag. 'I'm sorry, I have to leave.' She headed outside, grateful for her leather jacket, and got into a cab.
' 221b, Baker Street.' She said to the cabbie. 'As fast as you can.'
Molly pushed the memory of earlier that night away. She came here quite often. She missed Sherlock desperately and thought it was a good idea to replace Sherlock with a bad copy. Tom. Well, things didn't work out the way Molly thought when she first started dating him.
She sat down in his chair, her legs pulled up. She didn't care that she crumpled her way too expensive Red Valentino dress, black with cherries, daisies and honey bees. She fell in love with it the moment she saw it at Harrods and was very sure Sherlock would love it too.
'No! Tom would love it too! Not Sherlock.' Her mind screamed. 'You're in love with Tom, not Sherlock!'
Sherlock was alive, she knew that. Mycroft had told her. He couldn't tell her where Sherlock was and how he was but knowing he was alive was enough. She told herself that she moved on. It was just that everyone else saw that she hadn't.
Someone climbed the stairs, but Molly didn't hear the sound. She was lost in thought.
'Molly?'
In the middle of the room, stood Sherlock Holmes. Like Molly remembered him with his Belstaff coat, dazzling eyes, and beautiful curls.
'Sherlock?' She said surprised. 'When…. How…. You are back!'
She stood up and wrapped her arms around him. 'How are you?' She whispered.
Sherlock was uncomfortable with this sudden outburst of emotion. 'Fine.' He answered. 'I like your dress.'
She smiled widely. 'Thank you.' I thought you might. 'How was Eastern Europe?'
His smile faded. 'I don't want to talk about it.' Molly could see the pain in his eyes and instinctively reached out for his hand. She was surprised he actually welcomed the warmth of her touch instead of pulling away like he usually did.
They looked into each others eyes, not letting go of each others' hand. 'How are you, Molly?'
'I ran away from a restaurant tonight. My – I think now ex- boyfriend was proposing but I didn't want to have that kind of a future with him.'
'What kind of future do you want to have, Molly?' Sherlock asked. 'Because I know what kind I want. When I was away from home I didn't miss my parents or John or Mycroft the most. I missed you the most.' He let go of her hand and turned away. 'I apologize for my stupid behavior in the past.' Molly couldn't believe it. Sherlock never apologized. 'I hope you can forgive me.'
'I will.' She smiled. 'When I have ended things with Tom, would you like to have dinner with me?'
Sherlock smiled. 'I'd love to.'