The reception had been lovely, but Molly was glad to be in her pajamas with a pint of chunky monkey. She had broken off her engagement to Tom shortly after the newlyweds departed for what Sherlock deemed as their 'sex holiday.' After popping in her favourite movie, 13 going on 30, she heard the familiar sound of a key in her lock. Toby's head perked up from his cat bed but quickly settled back down. Molly inwardly groaned, as Sherlock was the last person she wanted to see, but from how he left so early, she knew he would need some comforting as well.

"Molly?" he called out. She walked back into the sitting room with another pint but the flavor was his favourite, mint chocolate chip.

"Here, thought you might need this," she smiled at him.

"You're not wearing your ring," he pointed out.

"Just take the ice cream, Sherlock," Molly sighed. It was silent for a moment. "I saw you leave…are you okay? And don't try lying because I know when you are."

"You always see right through me," Sherlock remarked. "No, I'm not alright…too many sentiments in my head right now."

"Your pajamas are still in the bottom drawer if you wanna change first," she offered.

"Thank you," he replied before going off to change, both of their pints of ice cream still on the coffee table.

"So what are we watching tonight?" he asked, sitting down beside her on the sofa.

"Probably not anything you'd care for," she laughed halfheartedly. Sherlock picked up the case and read the synopsis. Molly bit her lips anxiously.

"Hm, interesting," was all he said. She hit play, wondering if he was going to spout inaccuracies about the movie like he usually did.

They ate their ice cream together in silence, but sat practically shoulder to shoulder…well, if Molly's shoulder could line up with his, it would be. She leaned her head against him after she finished her pint, a strong brain freeze making her wince in pain. Looking up at the man she had been in love with for years, Molly's heart beat fast and the butterflies in her stomach increased.

Surprisingly, Sherlock was very focused on the movie even after finishing his ice cream. Her head still rested against his shoulder. She didn't dare question him when he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him, his eyes never straying from the screen. Molly allowed herself to revel in the feeling of him holding her. She felt her eyes well up and held her tears back. No way was she crying in front of Sherlock Holmes. Molly wasn't sad about breaking up with Tom, but she was upset that she may never have a chance to have a family of her own.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock spoke softly in her ear. And that's when the tears fell. He noticed how hard she continued to fight them. "You don't have to hide your emotions, Molly, not in front of me. I'll take care of you." This only made her cry more, allowing herself to really feel the pain she had felt inside. The movie was just ending and she felt herself being rocked gently by the man beside her. He pressed his lips to her forehead, near her hairline. "It'll be okay again, someday. You'll find someone worthy of your love and have that family you've always wanted."

Molly was shocked at his attempts to soothe her, to say the least. She wanted to shout at him, to tell him he was the only one worthy of her love, but she continued to be rocked by him, his head now resting atop of hers. She may have just been imagining things, but Molly swore she felt a tear drop into her hair. Sherlock suddenly lifted her in his arms and carried her to her bedroom. He laid her down and covered her up, placing a kiss to her temple. He was turning to walk out but she made a noise of protest.

"What about you?" she asked, her voice breaking. "You're sad too."

"Molly," he sighed tiredly. "You always take care of me. I think it's time I take care of you for a change."

"Stay," was all she could manage to say. Sherlock slipped into bed beside her. They had only shared a bed once before on the day he faked his death, but that was much different than this current situation. Molly turned to face him and wrapped her arms around him, her head resting over his heart. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," he answered. It was more than okay to him. He found himself wanting more, needing more. Sherlock wanted to lose himself in her embrace. His mind was screaming at him in a voice that suspiciously sounded like Mycroft. Chemical defect be damned! He threw an arm over her as well, his fingers stroking her hair. He was aware for his feelings for the petite pathologist in his arms; he'd been aware since his return, even before then during his hiatus. Sherlock loved her, but felt undeserving of the love she so freely gave him.

Moments later, Molly seemed to have fallen fast asleep. Her breathing was even and the crying had stopped. She was calm and comfortable. Sherlock knew it was a risk, but he had to let it out.

"I love you, Molly Hooper," he whispered in the dark.

"I love you, too," she replied softly, surprising him. They both settled into a deep sleep that night, small smiles gracing their lips.