A/N: I'm sure that every Sherlolly-lover who watched TFP came to the same conclusion about that scene. This is not what I originally intended, but I guess that means I get to tackle it again some time ;) Many thanks to beautywithin16 who looked over it for me :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Everybody Loves Somebody
…
Everybody loves somebody sometime
Everybody falls in love somehow.
Something in your kiss just told me
My sometime is now.
Everybody finds somebody someplace
There's no telling where love may appear.
Something in my heart keeps saying
My someplace is now.
- 'Everybody Loves Somebody,' Dean Martin
…
John raised his eyebrows as he carried Rosie into the room to find Sherlock lying on the couch with his back to the room.
"Can I ask you something?" he asked after a long moment, sitting down in his old chair.
Sherlock didn't even move, "If I said 'no' would it make a difference?"
John resisted the urge to smirk, "Has it ever?"
Although he couldn't see it, John could feel Sherlock roll his eyes and he suppressed another smirk as he busied himself with settling Rosie on the floor.
"Well?" Sherlock demanded, peering over his shoulder.
John looked up, "What? Oh, my question." He paused, "Well, I was wondering…did you ever…contact The Woman?" he finished lamely, kicking himself for his cowardice.
"No." Sherlock said flatly, turning his back on the room once more. "But that's not what you wanted to ask me," he continued, "you wanted to ask me about Molly. But there's nothing to tell."
John raised an eyebrow, "You've been avoiding her."
"Don't be ridiculous," Sherlock huffed.
"You haven't been to St. Bart's since the…" John paused as he considered the appropriate word, "since the incident and I was wondering what that meant."
"It means that I don't have a reason to go there."
"Really?"
"Really," Sherlock said firmly.
"You told her that you loved her," John reminded him.
"She asked me to," Sherlock muttered.
"But you meant it," John countered.
Sherlock shot him a disdainful look over his shoulder, "A confession given under duress has no legal standing."
"The first time was under duress," John conceded, "the second time you meant it."
"There was no second time," Sherlock said after a long moment.
John pursed his lips, "She only asked you to say it once, Sherlock, you said it twice."
Sherlock rolled over, "No I didn't."
"Sherlock…" John began in a warning tone.
"I hurt her, John," Sherlock said quietly, turning his back on John again, "I always hurt her. It's better this way."
"Oh, of course, it's better to break her completely," John agreed with barely contained sarcasm, "well, you are the genius."
Sherlock frowned as he rolled back over, "John…"
"No, really, you're right," John continued in the same sarcastic tone. "Better to hold out the carrot, to tell her how you feel and then beat her viciously with the stick of your reasoning and logic. Love is a defect, it's much better that you both are cured of it now before anything further develops between you."
Sherlock glared at him, "John."
John chose to ignore the warning in Sherlock's low voice, "As you said, she's practical and used to being alone. She'll cope, in fact, I'm sure that her crumbling before our eyes was merely the first step to her recovery."
"Stop it!" Sherlock hissed, sitting up.
"Why?" John challenged, watching as Sherlock began to pace, "If what you said doesn't matter, if she doesn't matter then why do you care what I say?"
"Because I meant it!" Sherlock all but bellowed, whirling around to face John. "I meant it…and I don't know what that means," he added in a quieter tone, sinking back down to sit on the couch.
John regarded him for a long moment, "For a start, it means you might actually be human."
"Not funny," Sherlock muttered, burying his face in his hands.
"I wasn't trying to be," John replied seriously. "Ignoring this isn't going to make it go away and hiding from her won't make it any easier when you eventually have to see her again. In fact, you'll only make it worse."
Sherlock looked up at him, "I hurt her, John."
"All that means is that you're the only one who can fix this," John replied smoothly. There was a long pause as the two men regarded each other, "So the real question is: do you want to?" John asked finally.
John's final question pounded in Sherlock's brain as he stood outside Molly's door, waiting for her to answer. He did want to fix it, more than anything, but he had absolutely no idea how to begin.
He was just about to leave, torn between relief and disappointment, when the door opened.
"Sherlock? What are you doing here?" Molly asked, concern evident in her tone despite the wariness in her eyes.
"It wasn't an experiment," he blurted out finally, Molly raised her eyebrows in surprise, "and I would never hurt you Molly, not if I could help it."
"Sherlock, it's fine-" she began, but he cut her off.
"No it's not," he said bluntly, "hurting you has never been 'fine' but I thought I was going to lose you and there seemed no other way." He ran a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, "And then you asked me to say...to say it and…" he shook his head, staring down at her, "…and it was suddenly too real."
Molly took a steadying breath, "I don't understand," she said quietly.
"I meant it," he said finally, just as quietly, "and that terrifies me," he added, hanging his head and dropping his voice so low that Molly barely heard him.
"Well then," Molly said after a long moment, "I guess you'd better come in."
Sherlock looked up, a little shocked at her comment and saw the compassionate understanding that he had come to count on shining her eyes. He gave a short, barking laugh in spite of himself as the absurdity of confessing his feelings in the hallway struck him.
"I guess I should," he agreed, stepping around her as she moved to let him inside.
The brief moment of levity disappeared as she shut the door behind him and they regarded each other in awkward silence.
"I, um, I came here with no expectations," Sherlock continued, not quite meeting her eye, "but I wanted you to know."
"Thank you," Molly said softly after another awkward pause. "I…I don't expect anything from you either, Sherlock," she continued after a moment, looking down at his shoes, "I realise that this is hard for you and…"
Sherlock didn't really hear the rest of her speech as his mind suddenly whirled through all the possibilities of how this conversation would end. Her tone and manner convinced him that she was going to let him go, that she expected nothing to change between them and that road only led in one direction: he would lose her.
Eventually, she would have to move on and find someone else. The only change in all of the possible scenarios that his mind came up with was how long it would be before she left him forever.
An outcome that was completely unacceptable.
"No," he said finally, cutting her off.
Molly looked confused, "No?"
"No," he confirmed.
"You didn't even let me finish," she protested.
"I've changed my mind," he continued as though she hadn't spoken.
Molly looked crushed, "You have?"
Sherlock nodded curtly, "Yes. I have come with expectations." He took a step towards her, "I expect things to change between us, I expect that will be difficult and that it might not be what either of us imagine but I am not going to lose you. I meant what I said, I mean it now and I expect that I will mean it tomorrow."
He took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eye, "I love you, Molly Hooper."
Molly closed her eyes as a lone tear made its way down her cheek, "And I don't want to lose you," Sherlock added, taking another step towards her.
Molly gave him a watery smile as she opened her eyes, "You've said that already."
"Then it must be true," he replied with a small smile of his own.
"I don't want to lose you either," she said softly, "I love you," she whispered against his chest as he gathered her in his arms.
"Well, that's very good news," Sherlock said finally, kissing the top of her head as he tightened his hold on her.
Molly gave a short laugh through her tears, "Yes it is," she agreed, closing her eyes as she returned his embrace.