Not sure if it will be a one shot or not. I've had it sitting around for a while! Please enjoy!

I walked into his room shaking and more afraid than I had ever been in my life. He was in the hospital bed motionless. Sweat beaded over his forehead spilling into his dark hair, the curls that normally were near perfection laid flat and lifeless. His skin was pale, dark rings encased his closed eyes making them look sunken and lost. Oxygen tubes ran across his nose while a feeding tube rested on his soft, chapped lips.

The light green sheets were pulled up chest high and tucked around his thin body, one arm over the covers held an iv that was taped down to a board so that even the worst movement would keep it secure. The small hospital gown clung to his waif like body that harshly showed every meal missed.

I was only a few feet away, no one else was here but I felt as if my body wouldn't move an inch. I wanted to run, to not see him this way but I had to, I just had to. I took another step closer, glancing down I could see the catheter hanging under his bed. I felt a wave of sickness in my body and closed my eyes.

Sherlock.

To me this one name held power, sophistication, brains, cockiness, pride and many more. Seeing someone I respected and held so highly in this current condition made my body go numb. He is my perfection, I am in love with him.

I know to him I am just Molly Hooper. To him I am talentless, I am invisible unless he needs something, mostly just dead bodies or time in the morgue. I know he uses me. If that's the only time I get to feel like he sees me he can pretend to like my hair or think my lips look better with a touch of make up.

I opened my eyes and slowly made my way over to the small seat next to his bed. I sat down, it was hard, the seat bent forward a little too much. It smelled like bleach in here, I didn't like it. I didn't like Sherlock looking so vulnerable. I didn't like anything right now. I felt terrible, as if everything was my fault. I kept thinking about Jim and how stupid I was, how thinking someone, anyone for that matter would like me.

The only reason I said yes when Jim asked me out was because I thought Sherlock might see me, I thought that if someone else stood near me he might look over a little more.

Jim asked me out when I went for help one night, my computer was freaking out and he fixed it. We had talked briefly and the next day he had sent me an email asking if I wanted to go for coffee. I had said yes of course, I don't have people asking me out on a regular basis.

I didn't think it was weird when he asked about my coworkers, of course I talked endlessly about Sherlock at first and how amazing he was. I remember mentally keeping check and making sure that after the first conversation about him I didn't go on and on again.

I leaned forward and reached out my hand, brushing back a lock of sweat soaked curls. He had been out for over a week now, after the blast they found him under chunks of building. He had some head trauma but mostly it was internal bleeding. They had to put him in a medicated coma because the moment he came out of surgery and regained some semblance of consciousness he was trying to pull out his IV. Mycroft wasn't having any of it, he ordered the coma.

"Hey... you." my voice was trembling, why on earth was I nervous? Other than the police outside no one was near this room. It was just us, alone. I loved looking at him but not this way. I sat forward a little more, damn me to hell, I was starting to cry.

"Hey, I uhm... wanted to say hello." My throat was closing up a little.

"I miss seeing you at work, we had a fresh body yesterday. He was perfect for you."

I swallowed.

"I just wanted to say that, I know you don't care if I'm here and I know you don't care about me but..."

My voice broke off. At least he had no idea what was going on.

"I just care... so much... for you." I was now full out crying.

After the bomb blast Jim had disappeared, poof like a ghost. All they had found was a little blood, not even any of his henchmen were left behind.

I didn't tell Lestrade that the night of the explosion Jim stopped by my house and said goodnight. That's all he had said to me, goodnight and kissed me. After I found out everything that happened I went home sobbing. Jim had left a few things over at my flat, a normal gray shirt a pan that used to have cookies in it and a pillow.

We didn't have a very intimate relationship, but he really loved holding me on the sofa. The first few times I pretended it was Sherlock, after than Jim had started to really grow on me. It might have been slightly over a month but no one else cared if I got home safe, no one else called me at night or came up to me at work asking if I was having a good day.

Jim did.

"Sherlock, you must get better, you can't be like this." If I had makeup on it would surely be all over me now, the pink sweater I had on was now being used to wipe away my soaked face.

There wasn't really a way for me to tell him how much I loved him, it didn't really feel like the time or the place. He would be in the hospital for another two weeks at the least and that was hopeful.

John was better off, somehow the blast knocked him to the pool. He had broken his foot and had some burns on his legs and arms. He was already in his flat with Sarah taking care of him.

I wish I could take care of Sherlock but I didn't have the skills to help him in any area of his life.

I sat back a little and put my hands in my lap. I heard a knock on the door that made me jump and snap my head up, an officer was at the door, his body halfway in.

"Pardon me miss, but visiting time is over. Room is now off limits."

I nodded and stood, I could hardly feel my legs carry me out the door. With one last glance I looked back.

"I don't care if you like me at all Sherlock, I'm here for you. Here for you till your last breath."

Much love! Thank you for reading, if you liked it please let me know. I might make it a full story!