A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while now and I finally found a way to finish it. It's sort of for SammyKatz who wanted happy Molly fluff (but I'm still working on something more along the lines of what you suggested, hope this works in the meantime). In my head, Tobias is John Francis Daley (Dr. Sweets from Bones) hence the name, the title is from the Celine Dion song quoted at the start. Anyways, hope you like!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Make You Happy

...
Give you love without the pain
Show you light beyond the rain
Gonna make you happy
Gonna make you happy now
There'll be days when things go wrong
I'll be there to make you strong
Gonna make you happy
Gonna make you happy
-'Make You Happy,' Celine Dion
...

Molly Hooper was on a date.

This was not an unusual occurrence and it had never bothered him (much) in the past, but this time it did.

Because he could tell, even from a distance, that this time there was nothing – nothing – wrong with her date.

He wasn't gay, married, leading her on or unemployed. He made her laugh, he paid the bill and he opened the door for her as they left the café together.

He was everything that she deserved and he hated him for it.

Mostly, however, he hated the fact that he was unable to intervene; unable to protect what he suddenly realised he had left undefended and unclaimed.

Molly was his, Molly had always been his.

Now, faced with Mr. Perfect, he realised that he had taken that fact for granted. He'd never appreciated just how much she really did count until his position in her affections came under threat.

His shoulders slumped as he watched them disappear around the corner; Molly wasn't waiting for him to return, Molly had moved on.

A fact that became all the more apparent after his return from the dead and he was introduced to Tobias call-me-Toby-everyone-else-does Sweets, the man from the café.

If possible, his name made Sherlock hate him even more. He knew enough of Molly's sentimental nature to know that sharing a name with her cat would only endear Tobias (he refused to call him 'Toby') to her further.

And Tobias was doing his level best to consolidate his position in her heart: he would often drop in at the morgue during her shifts, usually with a coffee for Molly and he always managed to make her laugh or smile.

Sherlock couldn't bear it, but he had promised himself that he wouldn't interfere, not if it made Molly happy.

After everything she had done for him, he owed her that much.

"Are you feeling all right?" Molly asked quietly one evening, about two months after his return.

Sherlock glanced up from the microscope, attempting to look annoyed but failing miserably.

"It's just…it's been two months and you haven't said anything about Toby and…" she bit her lip nervously, "whatever it is, you can tell me," she added.

"There's nothing to tell, he's perfect," Sherlock replied, spitting the last word out as though is tasted bad as he turned back to the microscope.

Molly looked shocked, "Excuse me?"

"There's nothing wrong with him, Molly," he explained with forced patience, not looking up, "he's not gay, he's not married, he obviously cares about you very much." He paused, "It seems your taste in men has improved while I was away. I'm sure he'll make you very happy," he ground out, pretending to write down some results.

He looked up at her giggle and was surprised to find her struggling to contain her amusement.

"What is so funny?" he demanded.

"You," she said, controlling her laughter with an effort and smiling at him. She shook her head, "I never believed you when you said you always missed something but now…"

"What is it?" he demanded, interrupting her rambling.

"I'm not in love with Toby, Sherlock," she told him seriously.

His brow creased in confusion, "But-"

"He's my cousin," she told him, biting her lip in amusement as she watched him take in this information.

"Your cousin?" he repeated.

"Yes."

She giggled again as he slumped back in his chair, still trying to process this latest information: he had been so sure.

"He moved to London while you were…away," she explained, answering his unasked questions, "and it's been nice having him around, especially when…" she paused, "well, I missed you and he was a nice distraction," she confessed in a rush.

Sherlock continued to regard her in silence and, embarrassed, Molly started to move away; she had barely gone two steps before she stopped and turned back to face him.

"Why…?" she shook her head, "Never mind," she said with a small, embarrassed smile as she resumed walking.

Sherlock frowned; Molly was one of the most open people he knew and – although he often said things to the contrary – he hated it when she didn't share her thoughts with him.

"What?" he demanded, more harshly than he had intended, stopping her in her tracks. He cursed inwardly as he made a conscious effort to soften his tone, "What were you going to ask me?" he amended as she turned back to face him.

Molly scrunched her face thoughtfully as she regarded him, "Why didn't you say anything earlier?" she asked, "I could tell you didn't like him and I was certain you hated it when he came to visit me," she cocked her head to the side, "you don't usually suffer in silence, what was different about Toby?"

"He made you happy," Sherlock said quietly after a long moment, "I had no right – I have never had the right – to take that away from you."

"When has my happiness ever counted for anything?" she asked softly.

Sherlock surprised them both as he slammed his fists on the bench, "Your happiness has always counted," he declared, eyes blazing. "You have always counted, always," he insisted, "I may have gone about it the wrong way, but I have only ever wanted you to be happy." He made an agitated motion with his hands, "No one was going to make you happy, not until he came along," he added in a low tone, "no one was ever good enough."

He blinked a little in surprise to find that he was towering over her; he hadn't even realised that he'd moved, but he made no motion to back away. Molly stared up at him, looking stunned.

She took a deep breath, "Is this really about me being happy or is it about you having a say in the matter?" she asked, studying him intently.

Sherlock gawked at her, once again surprised by how well she knew him. No one had ever been able to see through him so easily or so artlessly as Molly Hooper.

"Both I think," he confessed, his voice sounding a little gruff after his impassioned outburst.

"Would you like to have a say in the matter?" she asked carefully.

Sherlock felt some of the tension in the room dissipate and he resisted the urge to smirk, "Would that make you happy?" he asked, his tone holding a hint of amusement.

She smiled, "Yes."

This time Sherlock didn't even try to hide his smirk, "Then I would very much like to make you happy."

Her smile widened and she surprised him by reaching up to kiss him on the cheek, "Good."

Blushing, she made to walk away but Sherlock caught her hand, pulling her back, "I think we can do better than that," he told her.

She looked confused and was about to respond when Sherlock silenced her with a kiss. She smiled against his lips and Sherlock slipped his arms around her waist.

He was going to enjoy making Molly Hooper happy.