Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or any of the characters.

Sometimes Molly Hooper didn't know what to say. And sometimes she couldn't seem to stop what she was saying. Those times usually ended badly. Then there were those times, those few precious moments when the perfect thing came out of her mouth. Today she had one of those moments.

Molly watched as Sherlock bent over the microscope, noticing the wrinkles in his face that appeared whenever John looked away. Sherlock Holmes was sad, sad when no one was looking. She knew that look, and she knew Sherlock. She couldn't let that look go without saying something and that was when the "perfect" moment began. And it started horribly.

"You remind me of my dad. He's dead."

It was meant to be supportive. It really was. Molly tried to backtrack quickly despite Sherlock's interruptions to get her stop. She had something to say and if this was the only time to make Sherlock Holmes listen to her, she was going to take it.

"No, sorry-"

"Molly, please don't feel the need to make conversation. It's really not your area," Sherlock interrupted.

As always, it stung and Molly berated herself for visibly flinching. She had made a commitment and she couldn't back down now. "When he was... dying, he was always cheerful. He was lovely - except when he thought no one could see. I saw him once; he looked sad."

"Molly..." Sherlock tried again.

"You look sad...when you think no one can see you." Molly glanced toward John at the other end of the lab. Sherlock followed her look and seemed a little uncomfortable, realizing that she had read him so clearly. Of course, he didn't have to pretend around her. Sherlock Holmes, the great consulting detective could be just regular Sherlock around Doctor Molly Hooper.

"You can see me."

"I don't count." It was true; Sherlock had never seen Molly as someone to put up a front with. She wasn't important enough, she figured.

That thought soon changed that evening.

"…You do count. And I've always trusted you…"

…

"What do you need?"

"You."

Perfect moments start with perfect words. If nothing else succeeded, Molly knew she had chosen the right words today. And while he'd probably never admit it, Sherlock had chosen the right ones too.

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