Cold. Darkness. Loneliness.
It's what he expected once it was all said and done. He was tipped off by the icy pain he felt in his heart whilst he smashed the coffin to pieces. Her words replayed in his head in the back of the cab.
It was three in the morning; probably not the best time for this, but what else could he do? A moment longer, and these raw feelings he spent so long locking away could very well kill them both.
Approaching her door, he started to change his mind and walk away. He changed it a few more times, oscillating on the pavement like the very clients he considered boring. Obvious relationship issues. His thoughts were interrupted by an unexpected turn of events.
"Sherlock, it's too bloody cold outside for you to be out here all night." Molly sounded exhausted beyond words, but he could see in her eyes that she was relieved to see him, though she'd never say it out loud. Mycroft had phoned her before his little brother's arrival, filling her in as best he could. She stared ahead, waiting for him to come in so that they could both be warm at the very least.
"I could just go home if you'd rather–" Sherlock began, his words cut off by her warm hands on his cold ones, battered and bruised.
"You are home," Molly said simply, shocking him. He followed her inside with endless possibilities awaiting the both of them.
Author's Note: this was a little thing that possessed me when I opened up a text post box on tumblr, and it flowed freely. I hope y'all enjoy it!